Free Spirit by J. P. Hightman

carrying an injured Josiah Jurey on his back. Tess looked over at the foreign man and realized this was the first time she’d had a good look at him. She couldn’t tell how old he was, but he was unusually tall, sharp and striking-looking, with features she decided were Italian, and he wore a long duster coat and black boots. He had the swagger and air of an elegant outlaw, and, as he threw off his coat, it was clear he had a greatly overdeveloped physique. He was almost monstrously big, but Tess confessed to herself he looked somewhat heroic. It was rather a comfort to know he was there.
    The Giant and the Skeleton, as she called them, had survived for the moment. The foreigner set Josiah Jurey down on the snownearby, holding his head up. Jurey was hurt badly, perhaps mortally, but his alert eyes were on the woods. “Is witchcraft done this.”
    â€œSir?” Tess watched the old-timer curiously.
    â€œThere shall be a time of renewal for them. We should strike now. While their energy is spent.”
    Tess looked up at Tobias, who shook his head, shouting down to the large man, “Sir, can you leave him for a moment? I see here…many other people who need help.”
    â€œThis must be done first,” said Jurey, and he pulled the giant closer. Tess watched as the foreigner listened and nodded, and took from the old man a fistful of crosses and necklaces, amulets of some kind, which he pocketed. Then Jurey gave him something else, but Tess couldn’t see what it was. She was not entirely sure if the other man was taking Jurey seriously, but he seemed to accept each item solemnly. Then, as Josiah Jurey lost his last strength and closed his eyes, the foreigner eased him down and pressed one of the crosses into the old traveler’s hand.
    Immediately, the foreigner pulled from his belt a long pistol (one of many), and loaded it. He headed past Tess, off toward the woods, away from the wreckage.
    Tobias stood on the train and watched the tower of a man striding away. “What does he think he’s…” He shouted to the foreigner: “We have need of you here. Sir? Sir!”
    â€œWilder,” the man said without turning back.
    Tobias was aggravated. “Wilder? That’s your name?”
    â€œIt’s the name I’ve taken.” The foreigner continued on, as several injured people moaned for help near his path. He would not be taken off course. Whatever Jurey had told him to do, Wildertook it as a life-or-death matter. He was fast disappearing into the woods.
    â€œThat man is mad,” Tobias complained. “Bring some people over to assist us, Tess, quick as you can.”
    As Tess stumbled past Jurey’s thin body, his eyes suddenly opened. In shock, she stared down at his white face and gaping mouth, as his breath poured out of him and shrouded him like smoke.
    â€œChild,” he whispered. “Whatever it is that gives you strength, they will take it from you. Don’t give it up. Find anything that gives them strength…and seize it.”
    His slackening breath took away the remainder of his words. His dead eyes unleashed a tear that froze upon his face, and Tess hurried away, not looking back, wading through the snow toward the next car.
    Her voice shook as she cried out, “Does anyone know of a way to call for help?”
    The plea was picked up; she heard people shouting it everywhere. No one knew how to get help quickly, and Tess was beginning to feel ill from the ocean of fear and worry all about her.
    She knew Tobias would sense the emotions just as strongly. Their empathic tendencies, as he often called them, seemed louder, deeper, clearer here in the woods. Tess felt overwhelmed by the bursting, sorrowful passion of so many wounded. And it was the fright she sensed—shrill, icy, coming in flashes of blue light—more than any pain, that threatened her most.
    She heard a voice from inside one of the cars, a male voice.