Read Fiction River: Fantasy Adrift for Free Online

that had been built by the Incas stretched up mountainsides. Small villages huddled in the distance. At overlooks, a group of women with long braids sat on the gravel, selling weavings and jewelry. We didn’t stop to sample their wares.
    We crossed the river on a temporary bridge that had been built to replace the one the water had washed away. It felt solid enough under the tires, but slick enough to freak me out. And the swollen water raced and roiled beneath us. I’d never seen rapids like that. Or heard them. The sound made me feel like I could come out of my skin.
    The taxi dropped us off at the train station, near the ticket booth. Behind us, the river roared. Shops sold rain ponchos and corn and coffee.
    Dad picked up tickets that someone had already bought and paid for. He steered us down the sidewalk, toward the gate to the train.
    I swung my backpack over my shoulder and leaned close. “You want to tell me about Juan? He seemed scared.”
    “He has a reason to be.”
    Shootings. People missing. He sure did have a damned good reason. “Some people would say that bringing your teenager into this mess is dumb and dangerous.”
    “Are you calling me dumb?”
    “No.”
    “Are you complaining?”
    “No. I don’t know.”
    He handed me my ticket. “I didn’t have anyone to leave you with.”
    “I could’ve stayed with Amber.”
    “Not with her mother sick.”
    “So you’re saying I’d be a burden? Or that they couldn’t keep me for long? Because they would totally never say that.” They might think it, though. And it would probably be true. And then my only choice would be foster care, where I would rot because no healthy family would ever take me in. Hell, maybe I’d end up in one of those conspiracy theory internment camps.
    He sighed. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
    “Because if you did, I’d have never seen you again,” I said.
    “It’s selfish. I know.”
    “It’s human.”
    He shifted the weight of his pack on his shoulders. Winced.
    “Hand it over.” I reached out.
    He made a face, but he gave it to me. “Anyway, I wanted you to see all this.”
    “Broadening my education?”
    “Ha ha. When else are you gonna have the opportunity to come here, Leah?”
    There was something he wasn’t telling me. We both knew it. I let it go for now, mostly because we’d reached the gate and the train was boarding and if we didn’t move our butts, we were going to be left behind.
    I threw the packs onto a luggage rack inside the door and got a load of the train car. Great big windows not only where I expected them, but also in the roof. Seats in groups of four, two on each side with tables in between. Which meant some people would be facing forward for the ride and some would be facing backward.
    Like us, apparently. I settled in the seat beside Dad. There was nobody across the table from us. The doors closed. The brakes hissed and the car began to move. Canned announcements floated from speakers, first in Spanish, then English.
    We left the town behind. Waiters dressed in smart outfits took drink orders and brought banana chips and chocolate. People made friends with their seatmates. Played cards.
    Dad nudged my shoulder and pointed. Through the windows in the roof at the peaks of the Andes, wisps of clouds circling them like crowns. And through the side windows, at the river rapids surging over boulders and the bejeweled green of the rainforest. All of it so beautiful. I wished I could feel the beauty more.
    The last of the blue faded from the sky. We arrived at Machu Picchu Station in the dark. The sound of the river and a crush of people welcomed us. The town of Aguas Caliente was built on a hill. We wove our way up, around market stalls and boticas, and found the hotel. Someone had made us a reservation for a room on the second floor. It was small and white, with two double beds. Even inside, the air felt damp and thick.
    No notes on the floor.
    We ate dinner at a restaurant at the bottom