Béla lay in the boxcar watching the scenery rumble past. Her body tingled as though it didn’t know what to do with all this available restorative energy from all the exciting sexual activity a few hours earlier. The lazy swaying and bumping of the boxcar as it traveled down the tracks didn’t do anything to help her relax. She had already raped Jeff twice since they left New Hope, and was wondering if he was up for it again.

The Great Bard Geoffrey was having considerable difficulty working his goddess’ sexual appetites into his understanding of her divinity. Béla wasn’t concerned about whether or not he would work it out. Jeff was incredibly imaginative. Besides, she hadn’t had any trouble instigating a ritual spring orgy among the druids when she had lived among them… It wasn’t really her fault if they turned it into a ritualistic sexual sacrifice – but blood does make a really good fertilizer…

To have something to do, and to keep her mind occupied with something other than Jeff and the (hopeful) recovery of his prowess, Béla decided to practice her teleportation. It was getting easier.

She took two empty vials and lay down in the sunlight and the buffeting breeze coming through the open side door. Concentrating on one of the vials, she filled it with blood from her veins. Then she filled the other one and put them both away in the first aid kit. They would probably need them in the next town if someone stopped their railcar, which was likely, as the next town bordered the river going around the equator.

The air, while still refreshing as it passed over and caressed her body, was becoming more humid, the smell of marshland more evident as they neared the equator. After all, that was where most of the water was.

After another hour of travel, and one more sexual assault on Jeff, the railcar swayed sharply as it was suddenly shunted onto a sidetrack. The automatic brakes engaged at the same time as buffers noisily pressed against the sides of the car. The sudden swerve and lack of forward motion somersaulted Béla off of Jeff, on whom she’d been relaxing after her last orgasm.

“Ride’s over,” she heard Jeff grunt from somewhere behind her.

Béla looked around to see where she landed and discovered she’d rolled completely over with her bare legs smacked up against the front of the railcar and was almost standing on her shoulders.

‘Oh, Joy! My favorite position!’ she thought sarcastically. ‘Pile driver!’

She leaned sideways and flopped down on the floor. There were voices of men approaching outside the car, then someone was striking the metal side with a hard object, possibly a rifle barrel or a wooden club.

“Anybody in there?” someone called out.

Looking around, Béla grabbed her shirt and slid her arms through the openings. She had no idea where her trousers were and she was already feeling annoyed that some illiterate ass hole had run their railcar into a freight stop when the pennant on the front of the car was plainly YELLOW, indicating PASSENGERS, and not blue or green, indicating cargo or livestock.

Jeff pulled out the replenished first aid kit and hopped down out of the car. He held it out for the rail guards to see. Béla stuck her head around the corner and looked around, then hopped down behind him. The guards looked at her with some disdain mixed with lust. Béla glared back; she knew what she smelled like. She liked how she smelled and didn’t care if the guard liked it or not!

The guard on the right put the barrel of his rifle under the front of Béla’s half-buttoned shirt and pulled it aside, admiring her slender torso and tight belly. He stared at her lack of pubic hair longer than was politely necessary.

“Please, do not anger the goddess,” the Great Bard Geoffrey said. “The last person who assaulted her is a pile of ash on the road leading north from New Hope.”

“New Hope is under quarantine,” the guard told them, “as are all the northern communities. No one is allowed to bridge the equator.”

“I have the cure for the wasting disease,” Bard Geoffrey announced. “It is a gift from her mother, the Goddess of Light.”

Jeff held the red and white case in front of him and opened it. He produced the two vials of Béla’s blood.

“You may test it if you like,” Bard Geoffrey informed them. “You should dilute it, first.”

“We don’t have the disease here,” the guard told him. “We turn back all who approach, whether they are sick or not.”

“It looks like somebody has it, though,” Béla said, interrupting them.

The guard looked at her, then looked to see where she was looking. High above, on the other side of the equator river, a fire was burning in a town square.

“We need to go there,” Jeff said, urgently. “We have the cure. We can save them!”

Jeff tried to push his way past the guard.

“It won’t do you any good!” the guard said, shoving him back. “You can’t get over the bridge!”

“What do you mean we can’t?” Jeff asked, anxiously. “We need to get to Southern, to get a transport…”

Béla interrupted him. “Jeff,” she said, quietly, but with urgent intent, “nobody can get across the equator. At least, not here. The bridge is too damaged to cross.”

Béla had raided the mind of the senior guard and saw the horrifying destruction by his own terrified people. He had been unable to stop a railcar with three families in it. As it approached the far side of the bridge, someone had thrown an explosive device, derailing it. He had watched helplessly as the railcar and everyone in it plunged down and disappeared into the swift black water, far below.

Béla looked at the guard, still mind-linked with him.

‘The disease is in the water supply now,’ she made him think. ‘Soon the whole world will be infected. There will be no stopping it without our help!’

“There is nothing I can do,” the guard said helplessly. “Even if I were to attempt to return, I would be shot by my own people.”

“Well, I can get across without using the bridge,” Béla told him. “What kind of reception would I get if I suddenly appeared in that Town Square up there?”

The guard had no idea. “Most of the people who have guns are guarding the perimeter,” he informed her. “You might possibly be overcome by brute force, but you probably won’t be shot. At least, not right away.”

“Are there any of you here who are sick?” Béla asked, “Please tell me. I… we can cure them.”

“Those of us who get sick go out from the station to die in the fields,” the guard replied, “away from those whom they would sicken. They live with each other, in the death camp, there.”

He pointed to a colorful patch of tents several miles north and to the east of them. Off to one side of the encampment raged a bonfire.

“That looks like a good place to start,” Béla told Jeff. She noticed that there were no rail tracks going near the encampment. “It looks like we get to walk there.”

On the orders of the senior guard, whose mind Béla had merged with, they were released on the north side of the station with directions to the settlement.