by Logan Jacobs
“Are you going to use that dog to get out of anything you don’t want to do?’ Freya teased.
“I promised to take care of him,” I quipped. “And if that happens to involve a lot of walks, then a lot of walks he shall have.”
Both of the women laughed, but Barnaby had heard his name and stuck his head out from the bunk room.
“Go on,” Darwin told the dog. “I’ll sit with those two while you go take care of your business.”
The Weimaraner trotted happily to my side so I could scratch his chin while the women pulled on scarves and hats. They also made sure they had the Glocks, and after checking the magazines, they followed me back outside.
“Wow, it got cold in a hurry,” Freya noted as she rubbed her arms. “So how do we want to do this?”
“We should have at least one person on the roof again,” I mused. “And probably someone who will stay near the folks clearing the snow. I was thinking Barnaby and I could just patrol along the rail.”
“I can go to the roof,” Freya replied. “I’ve still got the telescope in my pocket anyway.”
“I guess that leaves me with the mob,” Sorcha remarked.
“They love you,” I snickered. “They’ll probably work three times as fast if you promise to let them walk you to the inn.”
“But then what would you do?” Sorcha teased.
“I think I could find something for him to do,” Freya offered. “You know, the horses would probably appreciate some exercise. Oooh, and then you could brush them down and make sure they’re properly fed.”
“Don’t forget to make sure the stalls are clean,” Sorcha added. “More shoveling there, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll be happy if I never see another shovel ever again,” I declared.
“Then I’ll guess you’ll just have to be my escort to the inn,” Freya replied. “And I guess that leaves gramps with the horses.”
“Though Barnaby makes an excellent escort,” Sorcha pointed out.
“That’s true,” Freya pondered. “You might be back on horse duty, then, Hex.”
“Come on, Barnaby,” I said as I turned to the dog. “We know when we’re not wanted.”
I set off with the dog by my side, the rifle in my hands, and the women’s gentle laughter in my ears. Despite my closing statement, I was still grinning from their teasing and for a moment, I imagined what it would be like to have both women in bed with me. As that amazing scene popped into my head, I heard footsteps in the snow behind me.
I stopped and turned around to watch Sorcha try to high step through the snow pack. The mage didn’t look very happy about it, and if her frown was anything to go by, she was probably wishing she had offered to climb to the top of the car instead. She caught my grin and tried to hide her frown, but the snow was not her friend.
“Bloody hell,” she blurted out as she stepped into a pocket and sank several feet.
“Oops,” I offered as I held out a hand.
The Irish mage struggled in the snow, then finally gave up and took my hand. When she was back on more solid ground, she dusted off her jacket and pants, then studied me.
“So what were you daydreaming about?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I replied innocently, though I could feel a blush of red starting to creep up my neck.
“Well, I certainly hope it wasn’t Barnaby who put that grin on your face,” she replied with a lifted eyebrow. “Or should I be worried that I’m about to lose my place to a rambunctious dog?”
“I was just picturing what might happen at the inn,” I offered lamely.
“Uh-huh,” she mused. “And who did you imagine yourself with at the inn?”
“Oh, well, you,” I said quickly.
The Irishwoman studied me closely, with an expression I was learning to dread.
“And?” she prodded.
“Well, um, maybe Freya,” I admitted.
“You should talk to her,” Sorcha insisted. “I think you’d be surprised.”
“We have talked,” I noted.
“You’ve exchanged jokes and double entendres, and maybe mentioned having sex as something you think you might enjoy trying with each other, but you haven’t really talked,” she huffed.
“We didn’t really talk,” I replied. “Okay, well, maybe we did. I mean, you told me what your magic would do.”
“Right, so talk to Freya,” the mage encouraged me. “Ask her what it’s like with a mutant with rabbit in her genetic makeup.”
“You wouldn’t be offended?” I asked.
“I would not,” she stated. “I thought I cleared that up already.”
“Maybe when we’re in Willsport,” I suggested. “I’m sure we could find a few minutes to just talk.”
“I’m sure you could,” Sorcha agreed with a mysterious smile.
We were near the flagman by then, who had started to pace alongside the train in a bid to stay warm. He stopped to watch our approach, and I saw his face light up when he caught sight of the Weimaraner. He waved at the dog, and Barnaby plowed happily through the snow to greet his new best friend.
The flagman was cooing to the dog by the time Sorcha and I joined them, and when he first looked up, he had a smile on his face. That quickly turned to a look of surprise and then alarm as he took in the rifle I carried. The guns had been so easily accepted by everyone else on the train that I hadn’t thought about what someone from Willsport would do if they saw one.
“Is that--” the man murmured.
“Just for show,” I assured him. “Use it to scare away the mutants if they get too close.”
“But is it real?” the man pressed.
“No, no,” Sorcha assured him. “A stage prop.”
“Oh, okay,” the man said quickly. He clearly wanted to believe the gun was a fake, and he gave us another cheerful smile as he forced his eyes away from the rifle and back to the train.
“We just thought we’d keep an eye out for trouble,” I announced. “Since we’ve already run into mutants once today.”
“Oh, have you?” the flagman asked as he stared at the box car. “Well, we don’t normally have any trouble this close to the city, but sometimes the cold weather drives them closer to the town, especially if they’re having trouble finding food.”
“So we’ll just keep an eye out,” I replied as Sorcha and I continued on with Barnaby between us.
“A good idea,” the flagman called after us.
“Crap,” I muttered when we were out of earshot. “I should have stuck with a handgun.”
“Just stick with your patrol idea,” Sorcha soothed. “Stay close to the train and no one else from Willsport will even notice the rifle. And once we’re underway, we’ll just tuck the rifle out of sight and leave the station before our friend back there can do anything. Besides, with Gerald under arrest, the police will have their hands full sorting through that story.”
“Which also involves guns,” I pointed out.
“I doubt anyone will need to mention that,” Sorcha mused.
“Still, we shouldn’t spend a lot of time in Willsport,” I sighed. “Maybe we should leave as soon as we’re off the train.”
Sorcha looked up and scanned the sky, then shook her head.
“We’d be better off waiting until morning,” she insisted. “And if we really need to, I’m sure we could find a place to hide inside the city until morning.”
We were near the front of the train, then, and I could see the impressive dent the extra hands were making in the snowdrift.
“I guess I’ll check the other side,” I noted as Sorcha found a nearly snow free spot in the middle of the track where she could watch not only the workers but the surrounding fields and forest as well.
“Talk to her,” the Irishwoman called out after me as I started my patrol along the other side of the train.
I whistled for Barnaby, and we started down the other side of the train where the rail ran next to the edge of a gully. With all the snow, it was h
ard to tell how deep it really was, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. At one stretch, I was nearly plastered against the train in order to squeeze along the edge of the drop off.
Barnaby, however, was in full puppy mode, and he bounded along dangerously close to the edge until he finally got too close and slipped down the side in a mini avalanche of snow and ice. The Weimaraner yelped in surprise as he started to slide down the hill, but when he tried to break free of the snow and head back up to me, he found he was stuck.
“Barnaby,” I called out in exasperation as I tried to see if there was a safe way down to the dog.
I took a few tentative steps and set off another mini avalanche that nearly knocked me down. I managed to pull myself back to the top, but Barnaby started to bark as he struggled to free himself.
“Calm down,” I ordered as I studied the terrain once again.
The Weimaraner stopped barking but whined when he found he couldn’t move at all from his current spot.
“I need rope,” I declared. “I’ll be right back.”
The silver dog started to bark again as soon as I started to walk away from him. I took the two steps back and tried to reassure him, but he was determined not to be left alone. Fortunately, his barking had attracted attention, and I heard a pair of boots land on the roof of the car behind me.
“Trouble?” Freya asked as she walked toward the edge closest to me.
“Not of the mutant kind,” I quickly assured her. “Barnaby’s gotten stuck in the snow. I was going to get some rope, but he started to bark and won’t stop.”
“I’ll go get the rope,” Freya offered. “You just talk to the dog.”
I heard Freya’s footsteps retreat, and Barnaby watched her departure with sad eyes. He barked a few more times, then started to whine again, and I found myself baby talking to the dog just to keep him from going crazy. Barnaby finally settled, and once he was convinced that I wasn’t about to leave, he started to enjoy himself again.
“How do you want to do this?” Freya asked as she shimmied up next to me with a long length of rope.
“I would say I would go in there and grab him, but I think I might get stuck as well,” I replied.
“Maybe we can pull him out,” Freya suggested. “Don’t you cowboys use nooses all the time to round up strays?”
“Lassos, not nooses,” I corrected. “And yes, I’ve used them, but that was on a cow. I don’t want to choke Barnaby.”
“We’ll take it slow,” she said. “If he starts to get into trouble, we’ll stop and try something else.”
“All right, troublemaker,” I called to the dog, “just let me get this around your neck and we’ll pull you out.”
The Weimaraner barked but remained still as he watched me tie a loop in the end of the rope using a honda knot. Freya watched carefully as well, then stepped back when I signalled I was ready to throw the lasso. Despite the cramped quarters between the edge of the gully and the rail car, I managed to wrap the rope around the canine on the first throw. Barnaby remained calm at first, but as soon as the lasso tightened and I started to tug, he started to bark again.
“This is all your own damn fault!” Freya yelled at the dog.
Barnaby went silent and stopped to consider that. In the meantime, I was able to slowly ease him out of the snow. It looked horrible, I’m sure, but we were finally able to pull the dog back onto the track. The dog stood up and shook himself off as soon as he was free of the snow, and coated both Freya and I in an icy bath.
“I’m starting to understand why some of the elders were thinking about putting you down,” Freya huffed as she brushed slush off from her face and jacket.
Barnaby wagged his tail and then set off along the edge of the track at a more sedate pace with his nose to the ground.
“Well, maybe he learned his lesson and he won’t jump into any more snow drifts,” I suggested just as the Weimaraner’s nose brought him perilously close to the edge again.
We both watched, but the silver dog backed away after a moment and continued toward the back of the train.
“Is this what you pictured when Sorcha convinced you to go west?” Freya asked.
“What, you mean riding an illegal train while carrying a load of illegal guns, accompanied by an illegal mutant, a renegade mage, a crusty old man, and a trouble making dog?” I teased.
“Something like that,” Freya laughed.
“Well, no,” I admitted. “I think I pictured a lot of nights alone with Sorcha under the stars. I mean, I knew it would be dangerous, what with mutants and scavengers and who knows what other troubles, and that made me worried. But I sort of liked the idea of traveling alone with Sorcha.”
“Oh,” the rabbit woman replied and it was hard to miss the note of disappointment in her voice when she said it.
“But I’m glad it turned out this way,” I added. “I can’t imagine making this trip without you or Charles. Or Barnaby, for that matter.”
“Well, at least we rank higher than the dog,” Freya chuckled.
“Freya,” I murmured. “I know we originally told you that you couldn’t come with us, but I’m glad you did. I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with you.”
Freya finally turned to look at me, then, and she studied me with the same look that I had seen Sorcha use. I waited for her to reach a decision and hoped she saw the truth in my eyes.
“I’m glad I came, too,” she stated. “I don’t think I could have made this trip on my own. And I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with you as well.”
“Maybe we should spend some more time together, then,” I suggested. “Without the crusty old man, or the renegade mage, or the trouble making dog.”
“I think I’d like that,” she said as she finally smiled. “But maybe we can have that discussion once we make it to Willsport, and I can finally get warm again.”
“And on that note, I should probably find Barnaby and get back to watching for bad guys,” I laughed. “Obviously, the sooner we get to Willsport, the better.”
Freya walked with me to the back of the train, where Barnaby had struck a pose to watch several small birds dart among the trees. He didn’t move until I whistled, and then he only did so reluctantly. Freya waited until the dog was back by my side, then she kissed me on a cheek before she started to climb back up to the top of the passenger car.
I could still feel the warmth from Freya’s lips as I started back along the other side of the train, where at least there was no drop off for Barnaby to fall into. The dog ranged ahead, sometimes with his nose buried in the snow, but he would periodically stop and look back for me, just to make sure I was still following him.
We made two more circuits of the train and I was starting to regret volunteering for patrol duty when I saw Barnaby stop and stare toward the front of the train. His ears perked up, and then he started to bark as he charged forward. I ran after him, the rifle ready in my hands, and then I heard it as well. Angry voices and the distinctive sounds of a fist fight. We hadn’t spotted anyone emerging from the trees, so my first thought was that the linemen had started to argue amongst themselves.
But as we neared the front of the tree, I could see that there were too many people involved for this to be a dispute between the workers. Some of the people carried homemade signs as well, like the ones the protesters in Scranton-Barre had carried. I spotted Sorcha, the Glock in one hand, while she tried to use her magic to turn back some of the protesters. A handful of the locals seemed to be listening to her, but there were more following the track from the city, and they looked angry.
Most of the linemen were still shoveling as fast as they could, but a few had decided to stand up to the protesters and that was where the fistfight had broken out. The linemen seemed to have the edge in the battle, but as more protesters arrived, I wasn’t sure how long that would continue. I hated the idea of firing on the protesters, but I needed to protect the linemen first.
I pointed the Marlin into the sky and fired a
single shot. The unmistakable crack of the gun could be heard even over the roaring voices and the puffing of the train. Some of the protesters continued to yell, but most faltered and looked around, uncertain what the sound was or where it had come from. The linemen, used to the sound now, took advantage of the protesters’ disorientation to knock a couple more locals to the ground and then force the rest back.
“Go on back to Willsport,” I warned the crowd. “You can protest all you want there, but right now, we need to get this train moving again and get it to the station.”
“We don’t want your train!” someone cried out which was met with cheers from the other protesters.
“You may not, but a lot of people do,” one of the linemen retorted. “Now get out of the way or we’ll run you over.”
“We won’t--” I started to declare but a howl went up from the crowd and whatever else I had planned to say was drowned out.
“Hex!” Sorcha called out. “They’ll kill each other!”
“And there’s more on the way,” I warned as I spotted another small group moving along the rails.
“What’s that thing they’re pushing?” Sorcha asked.
“It’s…” I stammered. “I don’t know what it is, but it can’t be good.”
“It looks like a really big gun,” Sorcha pointed out.
“I think it is,” I replied.
“I’ll go get Freya and Darwin,” Sorcha suggested as she started to back away from the crowd.
“I’ll try to get closer to that… thing,” I said. “I hate to shoot these people, but I might have to if they try to use it.”
Sorcha nodded and turned to run back toward the passenger car, but I barely glimpsed her departure. Barnaby had given up on barking and instead stood with his head lowered and growled at the new arrivals. A few fists had been thrown since the lineman had threatened to run over everyone, but mostly it was just shouting at the moment.
My bigger concern was the really big gun that the new arrivals had brought out. The group had stopped well behind the first wave of protesters, and I could see two people work to ram something down the front of the jumbo barrel, while someone else tilted a tin over a spot on the back of the barrel. I raised the rifle, then realized I had no idea what the range was. Taking a chance, I fired at one of the men loading the front of the barrel. The man jumped and grabbed an arm, but someone else quickly took his place.