CHAPTER ONE - A NEW ORDER
"Well, you accomplished what you set out to do at last."
"No, it was never my intention..."
"You set out to destroy my train. And you accomplished that mission in a spectacular fashion. Well done, Mr., Layton! Enjoy your victory while you can."
Layton remembered the conversation as though they had had it yesterday. He could recall every word of it. Though Cavill was cordial, as she always was, he believed he could feel the hatred in every word.
She had agreed with him. She had acquiesced to his new vision. She had done everything but bowed down to him.
But the hatred was still there nonetheless.
And he didn't even blame her for it.
In a way he had set out to destroy her train. To destroy a class system that separate one type of person from another so cleanly you could practically draw a line between who was 'acceptable' and who was not.
But that was all he had set out to do. He hadn't set out to literally destroy Snowpiercer. Nor to hurt Melanie Cavill in any way. The train still needed her. Like a child needed its mother. She had built it, and she knew it better than anyone else.
And now she was back where she professed she was happier. In the engine room, stroking and working and coddling her creation, while he had to deal with the daily grind of running this new society and governing the people in it.
She had shown him, in black and white terms, what he was in for. She had made no bones about it. Running the train was a messy business. Sometimes people got hurt. Sometimes, based on your actions, they died. Sometimes they were enemies. Sometimes they were friends. But you never forgot they were people.
And those decisions were needed every day. Sometimes several times a day. No one ever seemed to be completely happy with your choices. And on any given day, half the train wanted you dead.
"Enjoy your victory while you can." Were her parting words to him.
He had thought they were a warning. Some hint that a clandestine plot was afoot somewhere to take back control.
But after a few days of trying to sort out his new role, he better understood her words.
There had been no time to celebrate a victory. As soon as he took control, people started coming to him. Not because he was now the new leader of the train and a solid, authoritarian figure for them to turn to, but because she was nowhere to be found.
At first they came asking for her. He simply told them the truth. He had no idea where she was. He had sent them to Knox, who sent them right back to him, telling them he was the one to take their problems to now.
And they took that advice to heart.
From the moment he got up in the morning to the moment he finally was able to shut them out in the early morning hours, they never seemed to stop coming.
Nor did the problems.
He had delegated as well as he could.
The engine belong to her. But for decision making and reporting of issues, he had appointed Knox.
He had sent Roche and Till to deal with the looters and other decedents, giving the two of them free reign to take any matter in hand however they saw fit. Both were fair minded and level headed. He had no doubt of their qualifications for the task.
The Breechmen helped fill in for the muscle of the train's new security detail, happily taking to that task. Especially if said problem was from the Tail.
He had set up a minor authority among the Tailies, giving them discretion to deal with any matters among that group. Lights and Pike headed that group.
He had set Ruth over first class. She seemed most qualified to deal with them and their problems.
Audrey held authority in Second and Third classes, as they seemed to respect her.
And at the end of each day they reported back to him the happenings of the day as best they could and schedules allowed.
For the first few days, things seemed to run well.
Hectic. But well.
Sadly, it seemed it was his own people he couldn't seem to get to behave themselves.
Not that he blamed them.
The Tail was getting its first taste of freedom after nearly seven long years of being nothing short of slaves to everyone else on the train. To say they felt a little animosity towards everyone past their Tail section door was an understatement.
Layton had gone back to the Tail several times to try and talk to his one time comrades. But after living in the Tail for so long, you developed a sort of sixth sense about people. You just instinctively seemed to know when you were welcome, and when you were not.
And in the Tail, he was now viewed as an outsider.
They no longer saw him as 'one of them'. He was now, more 'one of THEM'. One of their oppressors. And many of them looked at him with nothing but suspicion in their eyes.
But still he tried.
He had tried to lead. He had tried to maintain order, just as she had. A new kind of order, but order.
That had all lasted for about a week.
After the first week of the hectic, sometimes chaotic pace of his new life, he had come seeking her out.
He had tried to leave her alone up until then. Made himself swear he wouldn't go to her for help.
It wasn't that he believed she honestly wanted to see him fail. To come crawling to her, admitting she was right. To admit he wasn't the leader they thought he was. He couldn't be what they wanted him to be. It was more, that in his own eyes, he had failed. Going to her for help, to him, was the ultimate sign he had failed.
He quietly sighed to himself as he stood outside the door Knox had directed him to. Inside the room, she was tinkering with some piece of equipment in a panel. But what caught his attention wasn't what she was working on in the panel.
It was the sound.
Inside the room Melanie Cavill was humming softly to herself. It was a light, happy tune, that seemed to be rather short and kept repeating itself every few minutes. But she kept the tune going as she worked, her fingers easily dancing their way through wires and over circuits as she pampered her beloved engine.
He watched her for a few minutes. He found he actually liked seeing her this way. She seemed to have few cares or concerns past what she was working on. And there was no stress associated with the task for her since she was more than capable of completing it. To her, what she was doing, was simple enjoyment.
Basically, she was happy.
And he was about to take that away from her, too.
He almost turned and left. He felt he had already done enough to the woman for one lifetime. She likely didn't even want to see him.
But he stopped himself. If nothing else, he felt he owed her one, good 'I told you so' out of all this.
He was about to knock on the door of the room she was in when she suddenly seemed to sense someone watching her and turned around.
She had looked a bit surprised to see him, but she didn't say a word. She simply tilted her head a little to the side, as though studying him, or waiting for him to make the first move.
"Ms. Cavill." He had formally addressed her. The time had come to swallow his pride and to ask for advice from the only other person on the entire train qualified to give it.
He had expected malice. He had expected rueful delight at his failure. At the very least, some cutting statement from her.
But she in fact said very little. She listened in silence to his problem, offered a few words of advice, then just a quietly turned and headed back to her work.
The next time he came, he came with a small gift for her. A 'thank you' for her previous help. It wasn't much. A small green scarf he thought she might like that he found in a shop in The Market. There had been teal one there he had considered, but Audrey had cautioned him against it as she stood beside him, helping him make the selection. Suggesting it might bring up bad memories.
And again he had asked for her advice. And just as stoically she had given it, and then retreated just as quietly back to her work. Though, as he noted, with his gift.
The next time he came to ask her to have dinner with him. Asking if they could talk. He always tried to afford her a certain amount of respect. But it always seemed to come off badly, like he was trying more to placate her because he needed her than treating her as an equal. On Audrey's advice, he had thought a less formal setting might work better between them. It might feel less like him coming to her as the leader of the train approaching his power rival.
"Just two people on a train having a meal together." She had said with that trademark smile of her's that hinted that the suggestion was anything but what she was indicating.
He had considered it for a few days, but as matters escalated, he finally decided to try Audrey's suggestion.
She seemed to consider the request with the same icy cold presentation she always gave him. It wasn't rude, or demeaning. It just lacked one single ounce of feeling. He felt like to her he could have been anyone. From the highest engineer to the lowest person on the train. The reception would have been exactly the same solely because it was 'him'.
But to his surprise, she accepted his invitation to dinner that night, though with the same icy formality.
He had arranged it in one of the dining cars, so that neither one of them would feel compressed or trapped. But he had also requested privacy, so they could talk without being disturbed.
To his utter surprise, she came in a simple, but elegant, black dress. But she didn't wear one single piece of jewelry to accent her attire. Instead, she had chosen only one accessory.
His gift.
She had draped the scarf casually over one shoulder of the dress and pinned it there with a small clip.
He had tried to be the perfect gentleman. Pulling out her chair. Complimenting her on her appearance. Asking her about her day.
But no matter how things may have seemed outwardly, aside from sitting at a table together, little else had changed. She was sitting as formally as one could in a chair, and the conversation could easily have competed with the temperature outside in his opinion.
It would have been hard for anyone watching them to even imagine that a few short weeks ago she had actually helped him bring them to this point. She had told him she agreed with him, that her way of doing things wasn't working anymore, and maybe it was time for change.
But by the time she walked out of the communication room after he had addressed the train for the first time as its new leader, he could practically see the wall come up between them. She didn't exactly treat him like an enemy. To him, she treated him more like...a nuisance.
Enemy. Nuisance. Just a general irritation. It was the last thing he wanted her to view him as. In the past few days he had come to the conclusion that the train needed them both. Maybe her way hadn't been the best choice. But his certainly didn't seem to be making things any better.
Maybe what was going to work, was them working together. And that was what he hoped to make her see by the end of the meal.
But not even half way through the meal, he decided quite firmly he had had enough of her formality with him. Again, she wasn't being rude, or condescending. But her attitude towards him irritated him just the same.
"Melanie."
It was the first time in the whole evening he had called her by her first name.
She looked up from her plate, a little surprise poking through her otherwise frozen expression.
Layton leaned slightly on the table. "I know you don't believe me, but I honestly did not do any of this to hurt you. That isn't what I was trying to do."
Melanie Cavill set her fork down on her plate as she casually folded her hands in front of her, carefully studying the man across the table from her for a few seconds. Finally it was in a low, level tone, that she addressed him.
"Then exactly what was it you were trying to do, Mr. Layton?"
Layton was somewhat surprised by the question. She rarely ever ask one. She usually just listen to his problem, offered advice, and left.
Even through the entire evening, she hadn't ask one question of him. She had, in fact, said very little. Leaving him to carry most of the conversation.
"I was trying to make a change. The right one." He answered her, trying to keep his tone just as level, but respectful. He wasn't looking to get into a fight with her.
She again fell to studying him across the table before she spoke again.
"And was it?" She finally asked.
Layton set his gaze on her across the table, equally assessing her this time. "I thought it was."
"And now?"
"Now I'm not so sure."
She leaned back in her chair, relaxing her position just a little, but still studying him. "Why not?" She ask.
Well, she wanted an answer to that, he was going to give it to her. In spades.
Layton leaned a little harder on the table. "Because no matter what I do, no one seems happy with my decisions. I try to appease one group, someone else cries foul. I try to give them what they seem to want...freedoms, more openness, more liberties...but the more I give them the more they want from me. I try to make them see we all need to work together, but all they seem to do is complain and fight among themselves. No one's happy, and everyone hates me."
To his surprise she actually favored him with the smallest trace of a smile.
"Welcome to leadership, Mr. Layton." Was all she said in reply.
For the rest of the meal, while not exactly escalating to a happy, pleasant encounter, it did seem to relax just the smallest bit. While he still carried most of the conversation, she talked a bit more. But the discussions were general. Nothing too personal. And he pulled back from bringing up his initial reason for this particular meeting.
But that was perfectly fine by him. He found he liked talking to her. As he always knew, she was extremely intelligent, and she liked to debate matters. And as long as the conversation stayed within unspoken parameters, the evening went on pleasantly enough. Once or twice he ventured outside the lines, bringing up small matters about the train or issues that concerned him. But the moment he broke the rules, she was quick to let him know, essentially shutting down and giving him little more than slight sounds to indicate her agreement or lack of such for what he had said.
Soon after that evening, he found himself seeking her out more and more. For some reason it didn't seem as stilted talking to her after that. It was almost as though in some unspoken way, they had come to an understanding of each other that night.
But he didn't just come asking questions anymore. Now he gave her updates on issues that arose and rather than just asking her advice, he would offer his own solution, and then ask for her opinion.
He gave her credit that never once did she ever use the situation to her own advantage. She never bargained an answer or any advice. She seemed to genuinely only have one concern.
The same one he had.
The well-being of the train and it's passengers.
Soon he stopped having to seek her out. On her advice, the nightly meetings between himself and his appointed delegates took on a more formal tone. The meetings now had a strict time schedule, and everyone who held a position was expected to attend and give a report of the activities under their jurisdiction.
Thus were Snowpiercer's council meetings born.
At first she had not attended the meetings. But after several requests from him, she finally did agree to sit in on one meeting.
Her attendance did not meet without some resistance. The strongest coming from Ruth, who after her very first appearance, stayed behind to have a few words with the train's new chancellor.
"What in the bloo...what was she even doing here?!" Ruth fumed at him as soon as the others left. "What are you thinking? Bringing her back here? It looks like...like we're just going back to the old ways. Or did she just set you up like she did Mr. Wilford? To be her puppet while she continues to control the train?"
"It's not like that, Ruth." He stated. "Now you may not like it..."
"Well, you've got that right, Mr. Layton. I don't like it at all."
"...but no one knows this train better than Ms. Cavill. She ran it for nearly seven years."
Ruth quickly straighten out her teals as she huffed at him. "I am well aware of what she did for seven years, Mr. Layton. Though it's more of a lied to the entire train while she...played her little game on all of us. And lets not forget that she left poor Mr. Wilford to die on a platform while she stole this train. Why is she even still wandering about as free as a bird? She had her trail. Why hasn't she been executed?"
Layton didn't like his new head of hospitalities tone one bit. It positively dripped with a unsatisfied thirst for revenge.
"The train needs her, Ruth." He stated calmly, hoping to make the woman see the logic in the circumstances. "And no one on this train is going to be executed."
"There are still those aboard, Mr. Layton," The woman answered him coolly, "who want to see justice done. Melanie Cavill has committed a list of atrocities on this train, and she needs to answer for them. Not..." Ruth waved her hand in the air. "...just go on about her life as though nothing matters."
Layton wasn't in the mood to argue with her. "Fine." He finally consented. "But for now this train and all its passengers needs Melanie Cavill more than it needs justice. And that's the cold, hard truth. We need her help to keep order. You say there are people on this train that want to see her dead? Well, there are also people that want to see her right back where she was. Running things. And sometimes, to keep peace, both sides have to give a little. Now, she's not going back to running the train, Ruth. But she will have her say at these meetings. And her opinion will be respected."
The head of hospitality looked positively livid. But true to her title, Ruth quickly regained herself and gave him a tight-lipped smile, although he bet it took every ounce of strength she had to keep it there.
"Very well, Mr. Layton." She replied calmly. "You are, after all, our new leader."
Layton returned her falsely calm expression. "That I am, Ms. Wardell."
"Yes." Ruth huffed out. "But I suppose we'll see how long that lasts if you keep...consorting with her."
She didn't give Layton a chance to answer as she quickly turned and formally marched herself out of the room.
Layton didn't even wait for morning to talk to her about the conversation he had had with Ruth Wardell. The whole vibe of it set his teeth on edge. This woman wasn't just looking for justice. She was looking to settle a score. And in his experience, these were the most dangerous of people.
He knew she had had her quarters behind the engine room. Small and cramped as any of the other regular crew quarters. But when she had relinquished control of the train, one of the first things she had requested was a change of quarters. She stated she needed more room now. A place to 'spread out'. To think.
When he had agreed, he had made one of the conditions seeing the room she wanted to appropriate for herself. She had described it as a small, simple room with a bit more space than the average cabin. She said it was an abandoned space that no one used, so she wasn't forcing anyone out. But when he actually saw the room, he had his doubts.
The room wasn't that far from her current cabin, but it had been so clandestinely designed into the structure of the car it was housed in, it was easy for one to walk past it and never realize it was even there. Layton didn't feel for a minute this was a design by accident.
While she carefully allowed him limited access, keeping him mostly in the front area, he did manage to look around enough to get a general feel for its size. The room seem to span a little more than half the car it was situated in. There was a front room, where he was standing, which was actually divided into a small sitting room and the kitchen, with windows on the outside wall that let in light. In the rear was a door that he guessed led to the bedroom. There was a small space between the front area and the rear door that he couldn't see, but he suspected had two rooms off to either side of the small hallway that led to the bedroom. One of which he guessed was the bath and the other a small storage room.
Overall, there was nothing overwhelmingly spectacular about the room.
But the feeling he had gotten when he first stepped into the room was that he had been lied to. That the room was anything but abandon. Though someone had done an excellent job of making it look that way, there were certain signs he quickly noted that suggested otherwise.
For starters, the room was insanely clean. If no one had used it for nearly seven years, as she claimed, there would be dust on some level. He had sat down on the sofa under one of the windows and gave it a light, appraising pat, as though testing its firmness. But what he had been looking for was, again, any dust. But he swore not so much as a single spec floated up into the air from his action. The other thing he noted was that she had said the room had been used at one time for storage. But the carpet showed no such wear patterns. There were no marks where anything heavy had been left for extended periods of time on the floor, or any signs of anything large ever being removed from the room either.
The other issue he had was the smell. A room abandoned for nearly seven years would have at least some sort of musty, unused smell. But this room clearly smelled as though the air had circulated in it. And regularly.
He had questioned her on some of those points, but she had quickly explained it off, stating she had had the room cleaned, in anticipation of his answer. And that if she were not allowed the room, surely it would be gifted to someone else. Therefore, a cleaning was in order.
He didn't for a second either miss the way she made that statement. Although in her usual emotionless way of talking sometimes, there was no denying the underlying current when she suggested he might give the room to someone else, putting just the minorest hint of expression on the word 'gifted'.
Walking around the area, he wanted to simply find out what the room really was to her. This was no random selection. This room meant something to her. Something important.
"It is a nice room." He commented, looking it over again. "In fact, I sort of feel it growing on me."
He almost smiled at watching the effect the statement had on her. It was like watching an animal suddenly rising up to defend its territory. And that was what struck him the most. She treated that simple, random comment as though it were a personal attack. Like he was stepping in to take one more thing away from her.
"You ask if there was anything I needed or wanted." She replied, keeping her tone in check with some effort. "I only asked for one thing. This room. And now you are going to stand here and purpose to take it from me?"
Layton backed down immediately. He had thought it nothing more than a small joke.
But she viewed it as an attack. A betrayal.
"Slow down." He quickly replied, holding his hands up to ward off any attack, verbal or otherwise. Maybe it was best to just play it straight with her. "It was just a joke, Ms. Cavill. I'm not purposing taking anything from you. It's just..." he watched her slowly draw her anger back in, but not completely, "...the room seemed important to you. I'm just curious as to why."
She took a moment to consider his statement. But Layton could already see the damage was done. The mistrust came back into her eyes as she stared at him. "It's just a room." She replied in her ever flat, emotionless tone. "If you want it, you can take it. Or you can give it to someone else."
OK. It was time to make amends. No doubt about it.
"The room is yours." He stated quickly. "You can do whatever you like with it. And for the time being, until you settle in, you can keep your forward cabin as well."
He had a vague hope of some sort of appreciation from her for his offer. But all he got was a slight nod before she turned and walked back out to the corridor. He wasn't the least bit surprised to see her standing there when he stepped out of the room himself. No doubt to simply make sure he left.
He hadn't been in the room since that day.
"I like what you've done with the place." He stated amicably as he stepped inside after she opened the door to him.
She kept her cool veneer in place, but he didn't miss the smallest trace of a smile on her lips.
In truth, the room did look a great deal more 'lived in' now. Several weeks now since the last time he had stepped foot in that room, she had completely taken over her new space. And he had to admit, there was no denying the room was totally her's.
In regards to her living space, she had never been what he would call an 'organized' person. Especially for an engineer. But now that she had the room, she took 'spreading out' to the extreme. He had no idea from her previous small cabin that she had so much stuff. But it wasn't a lot of knick-knacks, random figurines, statues, or the occasional lamp that now occupied the room.
It was books.
There didn't seem to be a single flat surface that didn't in some way find itself occupied by books. She had even had several shelves installed in the front area where she had rows of them carefully placed.
And it certainly wasn't that the place was cluttered. It was just since the last time he had seen it, now it was filled. Now it felt like she lived there. Like the space was truly and uniquely her's.
He turned to her with a small smile after looking about the front room. Again, the only area she let him venture into.
"So, it looks like you've settled in quite well."
"Are you here for a reason, Mr. Layton?" She asked.
Layton sighed quietly to himself. What did it take to get one friendly conversation out of this woman?
"Forgive me." He stated with as much formality as he could return to her. If she wanted bluntness, he could give it to her. "I was making 'small talk'. Something normal people do sometimes."
An eyebrow raised at the comment. "And we are not 'normal people', Mr. Layton. Now perhaps..."
But at that point Layton decided he had had enough from her. He had come there to try and warn her. To help her keep one step ahead of people who meant her harm. But she was bound and determined, as she always seemed to be, to simply dismiss him out of her presence as quickly as possible.
"What is it about me?" He suddenly cut her off. Something he almost never did. "What is it about me you just can't get past?"
He thought at first she would deny even knowing what he was talking about. But instead she fell to that maddening way she had of studying him.
"Come on!" He nearly shouted at her, frustrated at this power game between them. "Put your cards on the table, lady. What it is about me you just plain don't like?"
Her answer actually surprised him. "I don't trust you."
Layton paused for a moment, but then suddenly laughed at her answer.
"You don't trust me?" He stated. "Lady, if either of us had the right to make that statement, it isn't you."
He found he actually liked the flare of anger he saw come up in her eyes. Good. He couldn't wait to see what lay under that mask she constantly wore around him.
"You!?" She pushed back at him in the same tone. "You don't trust me? For what possible reason? What single possible reason could you have to not trust me? Have I lied to you? Hurt you? Deceived you? Betrayed you?"
Layton stepped right up to her. "Betrayed? You want to talk about betrayal? You drugged me! The one time I let my guard down with you and you didn't waste one second using it against me!"
"I wasn't trying to hurt you!" She snapped back in her defense. "I told you that."
"You drugged me, and you put me in a drawer! Why...just give me one good reason why I should I ever trust you again?"
"You were in danger!" Cavill all but yelled back at him. "You were just to stupid to see it. You were blindly chasing the most dangerous secret on this train, and you were to consumed by your...mission...to realize what you were doing. What revealing it could do. You were going to collapse a whole social structure overnight. Do you have any idea what that would have done? What it would have led to? Your own kind may have loved you for it, but almost everyone else on this train would have gladly slit your throat at the first opportunity. The safest place for you was in the drawers. I was trying to protect you! I was trying to keep you safe!"
"You were trying to keep your secret safe. And you would do anything...to anyone...to keep it. So stop trying to make yourself sound so noble that you were somehow protecting me. I can take care of myself, lady."
From the look on her face, Layton quickly realized that somewhere in that short speech, he had simply said the wrong thing to hit the right nerve.
"Get out." She hissed at him. "Just. Get. Out."
Layton sighed to himself. It didn't really matter, he decided in the end. He was pretty much done anyway.
"Gladly, lady! Because I didn't come here to fight. But that's all you seem to ever want to do with me."
"I am not the one who started this." She seethed at him through clenched teeth.
"Don't care." Layton fired back. "But I'm going to be the one to end it. Good night, Ms. Cavill."
Turning he quickly left the room, but stopped outside when he realized he never got to his main point of the visit. To warn her.
He was still lost on that thought when something shattering behind the door snapped him out of the moment.
He turned back to the door over his shoulder with a small smile.
"Well, well, well, Ms. Cavill," he stated to himself as he walked off down the corridor, "it appears you do have a temper after all."
