by Logan Jacobs
“I guess I should have something in case the mutants return,” I conceded.
Darwin handed me the Marlin as well as the Glock he had strapped to his belt.
“Just reloaded the Glock,” he noted.
“Won’t you need it?” I asked.
“I’ve got the Winchester,” he replied. “I’ll be fine.”
I accepted both guns, then picked up the canteens again.
“I’ve got to get some more water for Sorcha, and then I’ll head back to the engine,” I explained. “I’ll send word when we’re ready to move again.”
Darwin nodded, then glanced toward the banker.
“Maybe we can work out who might be behind these attacks,” Darwin hinted.
“I’ll bet Joker would be happy if you did,” I noted. “He might offer you more than a job, then.”
Darwin grinned as I stepped back outside, just as a blast of wind enveloped the train. A few flakes rushed inside before I managed to close the door, but Darwin ignored them and Ahmed didn’t even notice. Rather than drop into the snow, I jumped over to the cattle car and stepped inside.
The horses looked bored now that the train had stopped moving, and the sheep and donkeys were clearly irritated at the constant interruptions. Their complaints, along with the squawks from the chickens, followed me as I tried to pick my way through the animals toward the water barrels tucked into the corner. After a few head butts and even a nip on the shoulder, I managed to refill the canteens without any further abuse.
“We’ll have you out of here soon,” I promised the menagerie as I stepped through the front door, then slammed it shut before the ram could follow after me.
I dropped to the side of the rail again and made my way back toward the engine. I noticed that most of the linemen had moved closer to the train, and one man had even crawled beneath one of the cars. Despite the precautions, I knew the men wouldn’t stay outside much longer, not with the wind picking up and the temperature starting to drop.
As I neared the engine, I spotted a figure near the front of the machine. It looked like one of the linemen, but he was leaning over the wheels at the front of the train. For a moment, I thought he might be checking the train just as Riley had done before we left Scranton-Barre, but then I saw him lift one of the heavy hammers and bring it down on part of the train. The metal clanged and sparks flew out, and then the man started to lift the hammer again.
Chapter 12
“Hey!” I shouted as I started to run toward the man as the second blow smashed into the wheels.
The lineman looked up and saw me charging toward him. He grimaced, then raised the hammer again. I heard someone behind me shout something, but I already had the rifle raised by that point, and as the lineman reached the apex of his swing, I fired the Marlin.
Firing the gun accurately while running through the snow was not the easiest thing I’ve ever tried. The first bullet went wide and pinged off the side of the engine, but the lineman stepped back in surprise as the ricochet caught him in the thigh. I finally stopped and planted my feet as the man tried again, and the second shot caught him in the chest.
The momentum of the swing carried him forward and he landed face first against the side of the engine. He dropped the hammer as he fell forward and it clocked him in the back as he slid toward the ground.
“Hex?’ Sorcha asked as she stuck her head out of the engine.
“He hit the engine with the hammer,” I explained as I ran toward the man.
Sorcha leapt from the engine and followed me toward the lineman. He was still pressed against the cold steel, but I could hear him groaning as we drew near. I stopped and raised the rifle one more time, but Sorcha swept past me and leaned over the man.
“I think we can save him,” she announced as three more linemen with hammers ran up.
“Why the hell did you shoot him?” one of the newcomers demanded.
“He hit the train with the hammer,” I snapped.
I exchanged angry glares with two of the men while the third walked calmly toward the train and examined the damage.
“He was trying to dislodge the piston,” the third man announced. “At least, that would be my guess.”
“What would that do?” I asked.
“Train wouldn’t move,” the third man, one of the older linemen, replied as he looked at the saboteur. “Now, why would you go and do a thing like that, Gerald?”
Gerald, now on his side thanks to Sorcha, was looking gray beneath his tanned skin, but he only squinted at his questioner, then spat out a wad of blood and mucus.
“We need some answers,” I said to Sorcha. “So I guess that means we save his sorry ass.”
“Get him into the engine,” she said. “I’ve got what I’ll need in there.”
After I exchanged glares with the other two linemen, they reluctantly scooped up Gerald and carried him toward the engineer’s cab, then tossed him unceremoniously inside.
“I’ll go get Darwin,” I suggested as Sorcha started to climb into the cab. “I’m sure he’ll have a few ideas on how to question this guy.”
“I’m sure these two gentlemen will stay with me to make sure everything is safe and help me with the surgery,” Sorcha replied in the deeper tone that indicated she was using her magic.
The two linemen blinked, then slowly climbed into the cab with Sorcha. She winked at me, then disappeared into the cab. I looked at the remaining lineman, who had gone back to studying the wheels of the train.
“Did he do anything that will keep the train from running?” I asked as I walked over to his side.
“Not that I can see,” the man replied. Despite the gray in his hair, he still looked like he could crack rocks with his bare hands, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for any mutants that had come up against him.
“You said he was trying to destroy the piston,” I remarked as I looked over his shoulder.
“Easiest way to stop the train from here,” he replied, “but you have to get inside this box first. He got close, but you kept him from doing any real damage.”
“What do you know about Gerald?” I asked.
“Not much,” the man mused as he stepped away from the engine and finally turned toward me. “He’s got a wife and a passel of kids. Heard that the wife was sick, but I couldn’t tell you what with.”
I pondered that for a moment, then started back toward the passenger car yet again. I sighed and decided that what trains really needed was an easy way to talk to people in the other cars. Surely, someone in the pre-magic era had solved that problem.
I was just past the coal cars when I saw Darwin marching toward me with the Winchester in his hands. We met halfway in between, and the ex-trooper gave me a raised eyebrow rather than ask the obvious question.
“I caught one of the linemen trying to sabotage the train,” I sighed. “Sorcha’s doing what she can since I figured we should try to get some answers out of him instead of just leaving him by the tracks.”
“That I can agree with,” Darwin commented. “Especially if there’s going to be any more attacks.”
“I figured you’d want to be there, since you’ve done this before when you worked for the state troopers, and you already got Ahmed to talk,” I added.
“Well, that wasn’t that hard,” Darwin chuckled. “But, yeah, I’d like to take a crack at this guy.”
“It’s possible his wife is sick,” I mused as we started back toward the engine. “Maybe someone offered a cure or to pay for her medicine.”
“Or the money to pay for it himself,” Darwin added. “But there’s only one person out here who can tell us.”
“What do we do with him after we talk to him?” I asked as I peered around the snowy surroundings.
“We arrest him,” Darwin said with a shrug. “And when we arrive in Willsport, we turn him over to the authorities.”
We made it back to the engine with only a few angry looks from the remaining linemen, and while I was tempted to return the sta
res with one of my own, Darwin walked confidently past the crew without bothering to even glance their way. It was far more effective, I realized, then swapping angry glances, and I soon patterned my own stride on the older man’s.
We climbed into the engineer’s cab and found the engineer snoring quietly in one corner while Sorcha dabbed at Gerald’s wounds. The two linemen were still there, though they looked unsettled by whatever they had seen Sorcha do. As soon as Darwin and I arrived, they ducked out of the cab, so the only other stranger was the coal man, who sat by the engineer and watched the Irishwoman save yet another member of the crew.
“Can he talk?” Darwin demanded as he peered at Gerald.
“I can talk,” Gerald snapped, then groaned as Sorcha rubbed a stinky yellow liquid onto his torso. “Damn it, that stings.”
“It certainly does,” Sorcha agreed.
“So who put you up to this?” Darwin demanded.
Gerald shook his head, then leaned back against the engine.
“Next question,” Gerald growled.
Darwin sighed and took a seat on the floor of the cab as well. He studied the lineman for a moment, then waved Sorcha away.
“Let’s start with an easy one,” Darwin stated. “The why.”
“The why?” Gerald repeated.
“Why were you willing to stop the train in the middle of nowhere?” Darwin expounded. “You know most of these men, and you knew you were likely leaving them to their deaths if you succeeded. You also have a family of your own that you would be abandoning, unless you had some plan to make your own escape. Of course, that would lead to more questions if you suddenly turned up at your family’s house in Scranton-Barre after everyone else was killed, so you must have had something else in mind. But first, explain why.”
Gerald chuckled but said nothing.
“Tell us about your wife and kids,” I suggested.
“What about them?” Gerald demanded.
“Your wife is sick,” Darwin noted.
Gerald rolled his head, and then looked at Sorcha.
“Tell us about your wife,” Sorcha commanded in her deeper voice.
“She’s sick,” the man stated as he focused on the Irish mage. “Real bad. She’s been to the doctor and a healer, but neither one knows what to do for her.”
“How long has she been sick?” Darwin asked.
“Not long,” Gerald sighed. “It started out as just a stomach ache, but then it seemed to spread. She can’t even get out of bed anymore. I had to leave the older kids in charge when I left.”
“Did someone offer to help your wife?’ Darwin pressed.
“They said they would send her to a specialist,” Gerald replied. “Fancy doctor at the rich people’s hospital. Said they’d fix her right up.”
“And in return?” Darwin demanded.
“Make sure the train didn’t make it to Willsport,” Gerald finally admitted.
“Did you know about the other attacks on the train?” I pressed.
Gerald shook his head.
“That seems hard to believe,” Darwin chuckled. “We know for a fact that a character named Brother Anselm was looking for someone to stop the train so mutants could attack.”
Gerald huffed as Sorcha wiped a wet cloth across his scratches. Even from where I was, my eyes watered at the acidic sting, but I had little sympathy for the lineman as he winced and tried not to cry out.
“Don’t know any brother Anselm,” Gerald finally squeaked when Sorcha sat back.
“Blonde fella, blue eyes, good looking,” Darwin offered as he watched Gerald’s face.
Gerald shook his head again and then moaned.
“You should avoid moving too much,” Sorcha warned. “You’ll be achy for a bit yet.”
“Can’t you just give me what you gave him?” Gerald begged. “Let me just sleep this off.”
“Talk to us first, and then you can sleep,” Darwin stated.
“Talk,” Gerald murmured as he looked around the cab. “Talk is cheap.”
“Then it won’t cost you anything,” I pointed out.
“I’ve told you what I know,” Gerald replied. “They offered to get help for my wife if I could stop the train from reaching Willsport. No one mentioned mutants or ranchers or scavengers. Just stop the train.”
“Did they tell you to do it at a specific place?” Darwin demanded.
“No,” Gerald asserted.
Darwin and I both looked at Sorcha, who gave a slight nod to show that Gerald was at least telling the truth about that.
“So anywhere along the way,” Darwin clarified.
“Anywhere before Willsport,” Gerald asserted.
“But you knew that stopping the train meant it would probably be attacked,” Darwin continued.
Gerald finally looked ashamed, and his gaze drifted to the floor for several heartbeats.
“You were willing to kill everyone on the train on some vague promise of help for your wife?” I asked. “Why would you think they could even help her when none of the doctors or healers you’ve already been to could help her?”
Gerald suddenly found one of the buttons on the remnants of his shirt to be intensely interesting.
“Ahhh,” Darwin exhaled. “Let me take a guess, and you can tell me if I’m correct. Someone claimed that they had caused your wife’s illness and they were the only ones who could cure it. In return, you were supposed to stop the train. You took your wife to see your regular healer and doctor, and, as you told us, neither could figure out what was wrong or how to fix it. So, you figured this person’s claim was true, and you decided you would stop the train, no matter how many of your friends ended up dead because of that.”
Gerald finally looked up and regarded the ex-trooper with a speculative gaze.
“Something like that,” Gerald said with grudging respect.
“And who made this offer?” I pressed.
“Don’t know,” Gerald huffed. “Just some no-account cowboy who said he worked for someone else.”
Sorcha shook her head slightly, but Darwin didn’t press Gerald right away.
“Why did you shoot Hank?” Darwin asked instead.
Gerald blinked in surprise at the sudden change of topic, then his face went blank.
“Didn’t shoot Hank,” Gerald said blandly.
Sorcha shook her head again, and Darwin let out a dramatic sigh.
“Now, I don’t need any magic to know that’s a lie,” Darwin declared. “In the old days we used to run GSR tests. That’s gun shot residue tests. See, when a gun is fired, it doesn’t just release the bullet. It also releases bits of primer and propellent into the air, and even tiny fragments of the casing themselves. These bits are too small to be seen with the naked eye, but with the right chemicals, it’s easy to show that someone recently fired a gun by testing for the residue. And you know, there’s an easy way to test that doesn’t require an electron microscope. I’ll bet I could put together a test using just what Sorcha has in her pouch.”
Gerald started to finger his button again though his eyes were locked on Darwin. The ex-trooper picked up the pouch with the supplies and started to sort through the vials. He finally pulled out the bottle with the yellow liquid and another one that looked like liquid silver. Both, I knew, stung worse than an angry wasp.
“All we have to do is slather these on your hands and wait several minutes,” Darwin announced as he pulled out yet another bottle.
“Geez, Gerald,” the coal man said from his spot next to the engineer. “Just admit you fired the gun.”
“Fuck,” Gerald muttered. “Okay, fine, I shot Hank.”
“Fuck, Gerald,” the coal man muttered. “Why the hell would you shoot Hank? He always bought candy for your kids.”
Tears started to drip down Gerald’s cheeks, and he scrubbed at them with his fist. Darwin gave him a moment and then pulled one of the scalpels from the bag.
“Why did you shoot Hank?” Darwin demanded.
“He caught m
e trying to unhook the last two cars like what happened on the last run,” Gerald sobbed. “I figured if I did that, the engineer would have to stop the train, then back up. People would just figure that someone in Scranton-Barre didn’t do their job correctly. And while everyone else was working on that, I could close off the valve. Train wouldn’t be going anywhere, and no one would be able to point the finger at me.”
“But Hank had a hangover,” Darwin suggested.
“He found me between the cars and asked what I was doing,” Gerald sniffed. “I tried to say that I was just checking the connection because I had seen it bouncing around, but he got angry and said I was lying. I knew he was going up front to rat me out, so I started to follow him.”
“He was getting the extra spikes,” I said sadly. “If he was going to report you, he would have done it after the track was repaired.”
“I don’t know,” Gerald replied. “He was really angry. When he saw me following, he started to yell and I didn’t want anyone to wonder why he was yelling. So I shot him.”
“With the Welrod,” Darwin clarified.
“With a gun,” Gerald said in a puzzled tone.
“The one you tried to hide by tossing it into the cattle car,” I added.
“Yeah,” Gerald agreed. “I didn’t want to get caught with a gun, especially once they found Hank.”
“But why did you leave Hank’s body on the train?” I asked. “Why not just toss it off?”
“Hank was my buddy,” Gerald declared. “I couldn’t just leave his body out there.”
“So where did you get the gun?” Darwin asked.
Gerald went silent again and refused to look the ex-trooper in the face.
“I know you didn’t just pick it up at your favorite emporium,” Darwin continued. “Even out here, people don’t openly carry guns or own guns. And while I’m sure there’s a black market for them, I know you don’t have the money to pay for one even if you did know where to buy one.”
“And the Welrod is pretty rare,” I added. “Which means it would cost even more.”
“And yet it was absolutely perfect for the job,” Darwin continued. “You could have shot everyone in the engine and no one would have known anything was happening until the train stopped.”