Gun Mage 4: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth

by Logan Jacobs

  It was still early enough that many of the sidewalks hadn’t been cleared yet. Barnaby bounced around in the snow as he chased the few flakes that were still falling while I followed at a more sedate pace. I was happy to see that there was only another inch or so of snow, though I had no real idea if snow could slow down a train or not.

  We reached the end of the street, where the barricades had been replaced with yet more guards. I was starting to wonder where Riley and his partners were finding all these people willing to serve as private security, but with the money they had, they could probably afford to bring people in from other towns. Or wait for them to show up, like Darwin and I had.

  Barnaby stopped long enough to study the new guards, then turned and bounded back up the street toward the Green Parrot. With a sigh, I turned and followed and then lost sight of him for a moment when he ducked down a narrow alley. I thought he might be chasing a rat or a squirrel, but I found the silver dog tending to his business behind a row of garbage cans.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy,” I snickered as the dog finished and then sniffed around the cans.

  Barnaby gave me a disdainful look, then trotted proudly back to the street. With his own needs tended to, we walked slowly back to the inn and up the steps. Emma greeted us with a squawk as we stepped inside and Barnaby replied with a quiet bark. I tipped my hat to the bird as we walked past, then followed the Weimaraner up the stairs.

  Sorcha was dressed when we returned, though her hair was still tousled from the night’s activities. She smiled as we reentered the room then held up the shredded remains of a paper sack.

  “Apparently, Barnaby liked the treats,” she said as the silver dog moved to her side and wagged his tail.

  “He ate them all?” I asked in disbelief.

  “I haven’t found one yet,” she replied.

  “When did he do that?” I demanded as I glared at the dog.

  Barnaby wagged his tail some more, then glanced hopefully at the remains of the bag.

  “Next time I’ll hide them where you can’t find them,” I sniffed.

  There was a knock on the door then, and I opened it to find a middle-aged man with a lap tray like the one that had been used to deliver our dinner the night before. I stepped back to let him inside, and he carried our last room service order to the desk and set it down. With a flourish, he removed the lid to reveal two plates with some sort of breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, a basket of flakey rolls, and a pot of coffee. There was also a plate of steak cubes for Barnaby that looked like they’d barely touched the grill. The waiter gave us a knowing smile as he took in the disarray in the room, then quickly retreated back into the hall.

  “It smells good,” I noted as I carried Barnaby’s plate to a corner and set it down.

  The Weimaraner started to eat before the china even touched the floor, and I backed away before I lost a finger. I shook my head at the display, then turned back to the desk to examine our own breakfast.

  “It’s called Eggs Benedict,” Sorcha replied as she picked up a plate and retreated to the bed. “Viv said we absolutely had to try it.”

  I studied the sandwich as I carried the tray with the rest of the food and the coffee over to the bed. It didn’t look special, just two poached eggs and ham on a flat, round piece of bread filled with holes. There was a yellow sauce over the eggs that dripped onto the plate and I tried to sniff it before I carefully set the tray on the bed between the two of us.

  “Oh, this is good,” Sorcha said in surprise.

  I picked up the plate and the fork and cut a piece for myself. The poached eggs were perfect, with a yolk that was just runny enough for dipping but not so soft that they bordered on slimey. The ham was tasty, with just a bit of clove flavor that gave it a zing, and the bread was fresh-baked and perfectly suited to soak up everything. But the highlight was definitely the sauce, which was creamy, buttery, and slightly lemony, and made my taste buds stand up and sing for joy.

  “Holy…!” I exclaimed as I savored the first bite.

  “Right?” Sorcha laughed. “I wonder if we could convince the chef to sell us a gallon or so of this to take with us. I could eat this on anything.”

  “So could I,” I agreed enthusiastically.

  We polished off the Eggs Benedict and scraped every last drop of the sauce from the plates. The idea of having this sauce every morning was very appealing, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it probably didn’t travel well and wasn’t easy to make, or surely everyone would be eating it all the time. With a sigh, I set my clean plate back on the tray and picked up my cup of coffee.

  “I really should go back to my room,” Sorcha sighed as she sipped daintily from her cup. “We’ll have to be at the station soon so Darwin can have his look around. You know he won’t let us board the train until he’s studied everything.”

  “That’s not such a bad thing,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, I’m not complaining,” Sorcha said quickly. “Well, maybe just a little bit. I do wish we could spend more time here in this room, together.”

  “And with lots of that sauce,” I teased.

  “That, too,” Sorcha laughed.

  Barnaby barked and thumped his tail against the floor to make sure we knew that he was to be included in that group as well. Sorcha finished the last of her coffee, kissed me on the cheek, then stood up with a look of regret.

  “I’ll see you in the lobby in half an hour?” she suggested as she walked toward the door.

  “I’ll be there,” I promised.

  “Bye.” She blew me another kiss before stepping into the hall and quietly closing the door.

  I poured myself another cup of coffee and looked around at the mess we had made. And, I realized, I wasn’t smelling or looking so fresh myself. With a sigh, I heaved myself off the bed to do my own bit of cleaning before I had to face the rest of the travelers on the train, not to mention the ex-trooper and his granddaughter.

  Barnaby and I were the last ones to arrive in the lobby. Sorcha looked radiant, and I wondered if she had picked up some sort of magical soap while she and Freya had been shopping. Despite my own best efforts, I knew I still looked like I had been up all night, something Freya clearly noted. She smirked as she studied me and then winked at the Irishwoman.

  “You went with the big hat,” I noted in an attempt to divert her attention.

  “I did,” the rabbit woman agreed as she patted the furry ball on her head.

  “And you really can tuck everything inside,” I added in surprise as I saw that only a few stray curls hung next to her face.

  “I think this is my new favorite hat,” Freya replied as she modeled it for me and Sorcha. “And it’s remarkably warm. Those other women don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

  “Now you’re making me wish I had bought one,” Sorcha sighed. “But I don’t suppose we’ll have enough time to go back.

  We all glanced toward the older man, but Darwin ignored us as he made his farewells to Viv. Both the ex-trooper and the ex-dispatcher looked disappointed that he was leaving, and I heard her say several times that Charles would always be welcome to stay at the inn whenever he wanted and for however long. Emma’s head bobbed in agreement, and I saw a look of regret cross the older man’s features as he turned away from his long-time friend and headed to the door.

  Freya slid up next to her grandfather and wrapped a sympathetic arm around his shoulders. I saw her lean in close and whisper something, and a grin appeared on the ex-trooper’s face for just a moment. Sorcha and I both nodded to Viv, then followed the pair out into the street.

  The stableboy had already brought the horses around, and the two bays whinnied when they saw us. Freya reached them first and gave each horse a quick ear rub and a few friendly words before she unlooped the reins from the post and led them down the street with the rest of us close behind.

  Our arrival at the station was closely watched by at least six guards that I could see, though I had no doubt
that more were scattered around the station in hidden spots that no one else knew about. I tried not to act nervous, but it was difficult with that many people staring at you with suspicious eyes, and even though I reminded myself that we had every right to be there, it didn’t dispel the agitation I felt.

  We approached the guard at the entrance ramp, a shorter man with a smith’s body and a bald head that appeared to be turning blue in the cold, and each of us plastered a stupid-looking smile on our faces. The guard was unimpressed and carefully positioned himself to keep us from entering the station.

  “We have passes,” Darwin declared as he motioned me forward.

  I walked up to the guard and pulled the passes from my jacket pocket. I held them out, and after a brief hesitation, the guard accepted them. He scanned them very carefully, then turned a critical eye on our little group.

  “You don’t look familiar,” he announced as he waved a hand at our rough attire. “How do I know you didn’t steal these from the real guests?”

  “Son,” Darwin said after several long seconds had passed, “I’m really not in the mood for this type of nonsense right now. You have the passes, so let us in.”

  The guard stiffened, and after taking in our appearance once more, he turned his gaze back to the passes.

  “I think these are fakes,” the guard declared.

  “Have you even seen a real pass before?” Darwin demanded.

  “Gramps,” Freya said quietly.

  The short guard drew himself up to his full height, which didn’t quite put him eye to eye with the ex-trooper. My own hand drifted toward the pocket with the Colt revolver even as the other guards started to finger their own weapons.

  “Sorcha,” I whispered as I glanced toward the Irish mage.

  “I think I can handle him,” she replied quietly as she moved closer to the guard and the ex-trooper.

  As Sorcha prepared to argue our case, a carriage pulled by a pair of matched grays pulled to a stop nearby. I saw the guards all straighten their spines, and one fellow even checked his hair quickly. A moment later, Joker Riley stepped out from the carriage and looked around the surrounding area. Satisfied with what he saw, or didn’t see, he turned his attention to our little group and the guard that refused to let us pass.

  “I’m glad to see you here already,” Joker declared as he joined us. “I was just here for a last look at the train, and if it all looks good, I was going to send it out early.”

  “We were just showing our passes to the guard,” I remarked with a nod toward the short man.

  “Ah, excellent,” Joker replied as he snatched the passes from the guard and gave them a quick glance. “I’m trying to decide whether to stick with the figure of Atlas or maybe go for something more dramatic. Prometheus delivering fire has potential.”

  Riley thrust the passes back at me, then started to walk up the ramp. We scrambled after him as he strode toward a pair of wide doors on tracks that had been pushed back at Joker’s arrival.

  “I’m Joker Riley, by the way,” Riley announced as he turned and tipped his hat toward Sorcha and Freya. “And may I say that had I known that Mr. Theriot and Mr. Darwin had such lovely companions, I may not have offered the passes so freely. At least, not until I had met their companions and been allowed to spend some time with them.”

  Before the girls had a chance to respond, we walked through the door, Freya gave a low whistle as she took in the sight on the other side, and as I joined them, I was tempted to do the same.

  We were on a long platform next to the rails, and the gleaming cars of the train stretched down the tracks in front of us. Most looked like long boxes with wheels, though it was clear they all had a different purpose. I spotted a flock of sheep and several donkeys being loaded onto a car that was little more than carefully spaced wood planks. I felt a tinge of sympathy for the horses as I thought about all the cold air that would flow through, and patted our steeds on their necks in commiseration.

  Just ahead of the animal car was another pair of long box shaped cars that were completely sealed except for the open doors. A small group of men loaded boxes and equipment into each car, including a carriage and a stack of additional rails. I’m sure some of the cargo was just for show, but I had a better appreciation for Riley’s concerns over how much weight the train could pull.

  Ahead of the cargo were two more cars, though these were open on top and filled to overflowing with chunks of charcoal. A group of men stood at the top of the car closest to the front and seemed to be having an animated discussion about the coal.

  But what really caught my attention was the first car in the line. The engine, as Darwin called it, did not look like a mere box on wheels. It looked like a long, sleek barrel, painted black, with a series of pipes and smokestacks along the top. It looked powerful, like it was ready to run, and the plume of smoke that poured into the sky from the largest stack seemed to confirm that.

  “I’m going to do a walk around the train,” Riley announced. “You can go ahead and make yourselves comfortable in the passenger car. Oh, and don’t forget to take your… ah, gear with you.”

  “I’ll get the horses on the cattle car,” Darwin announced as he started to hand over any bag or box that held a gun, “and then, if you don’t mind, I’ll join you on that inspection.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I offered.

  Riley looked like he was about to protest both suggestions, but Darwin handed me the box with the original Winchester and a bag and shook his head.

  “I know what to look for,” Darwin stated. “And someone needs to make sure everything in the passenger car looks good.”

  I started to complain, but Darwin walked away, and Joker just snickered. The businessman followed after the ex-trooper, and I saw their heads bow together in conversation.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with the girls,” Freya chortled.

  “I guess this last car must be the passenger car,” Sorcha added as she looked at the long box with windows that was the last car in the line. It had been painted a dark green and windows with brass trim ran along most of the length. Most of the windows had curtains that were still closed, but we could see padded rows of seats and even a pair of passengers through one of the few open curtains.

  “So, where’s the door?” Freya asked as we stared at the passenger car.

  We watched as another man swept by us and stepped onto a small step at the front end of the train and then up onto a narrow platform. A moment later, we saw him walk past one of the windows as he made his way through the train car, and the three of us grinned at each other. We hurried over to the step, and hauled ourselves up onto the narrow platform, where we found the door. It was painted in the same dark green as the car, but it also included vines painted in gold around the edges and the name Scranton-Barre Railroad in large gold print.

  Sorcha slid the door open and peered inside, then stepped into the passenger car. Freya, Barnaby and I followed as politely as we could, though we were all curious to see what it looked like on the inside. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the car was actually rather pleasant. It had been panelled in a light colored wood from floor to ceiling and a rug in the same green and gold as the door ran down the center of the car between the rows of seats. The seats were bare wood benches with backs that had been nailed to the floor, but fitted cushions in dark green promised a reasonably comfortable ride.

  The seats didn’t extend the full length of the car but ended at a thin wall on either side of the aisle. I could pick out two sliding doors on both sides of the aisle beyond that, but I couldn’t see what was inside.

  “You must be the extra security,” one of the other guests noted as he looked up from the notebook he had been writing in.

  “We are,” I agreed. “Does it matter where we sit?”

  “Nope,” the man said as he waved toward the seats. “First come, first serve. There are bunks in the back if someone wants one of those, though I saw Hank heading back there a minut
e ago so at least one of those is probably already taken. I’m Jack Shelton, by the way. I’m the surveyor for the company.”

  Jack Shelton was a good looking man with dark skin and closely cropped hair. He smiled at our little group as he set his notebook down and offered a hand to Freya and Sorcha, and I caught a whiff of coconut and rum.

  “I’m Hex Theriot,” I offered as I watched Shelton toss the bags the ladies had carried onto a rack that ran along the length of the car on both sides.

  The racks had been fastened to the walls just below the ceiling and seemed to hover over the seats near the windows. As I tossed the load I carried onto the rack as well I decided I didn’t want to sit in the window seat, no matter how much fun it may be. I was sure I would forget the rack was there when I stood up and I would probably crack my head against it. Fortunately, the windows were wide enough that no matter which seat you took, you would have a nice view of the world outside.

  “Sorcha Callan.”

  “Freya Darwin.”

  “And this is?” Shelton asked as he patted Barnaby.

  “Barnaby,” I replied as the Weimaraner drooled all over Shelton’s hand.

  “When I heard we were adding four passengers, I thought that meant four people,” Shelton laughed as he rubbed the dog’s ears.

  “My grandfather is doing an inspection with Mr. Riley,” Freya declared as she looked around. “Oh, I almost didn’t see you there.”

  I followed Freya’s gaze and spotted the second passenger we’d seen while we stood on the platform. This was a man with olive skin, black hair, and a crooked nose. He’d barely looked up when we’d clattered inside, and even now, he spared only the briefest glance in our direction.

  “That’s Ahmed,” Shelton informed us. “His family’s bank has helped with the funding for this project.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ahmed,” Sorcha said pleasantly.

  Ahmed nodded and returned his attention to the book he was reading.