Artful Evil

by C. G Harris

  A noise began to approach through the settling cloud. Something like Babe Ruth beating his way through a forest of old, metal trash cans with a baseball bat. Bug Face growled out clicks and clacks of what had to be profanity and fury. Whatever he said, I had a feeling it wasn’t a concern for my safety.

  I turned and scampered further into the building. There had to be a way out of this mess. The Woebegone workers had abandoned the place faster than cockroaches in an apartment fire. There must be a way for me to escape.

  I waved a hand in front of my face and fought to keep myself from coughing. After a couple of seconds, I came to a wall, then a door. I jerked it open and dove inside, slamming the door shut behind me. Good news—the air was clear and breathable. Bad news—it was only a room. The door hadn’t led outside the way I’d hoped.

  The place looked like some sort of break area for the Woebegone workers in the warehouse. It contained a few lockers and tables, but no chairs. The vending machines held nothing but crusty meal replacement bars and a countdown timer on the wall began to click down from ten minutes as soon as I walked through the door. Worst break room ever.

  Bug Face inched closer with every moment, and there was no other way out. The sound of tearing metal and shattered glass unnerved me even more than the countdown timer. I had no other choice. I would have to stand and fight, but without my Whip Crack, I wouldn’t have much of a chance. I hurried over to the lockers and started jerking them open one by one, hoping to find an item to use as a makeshift weapon. A pipe, an old wrench, maybe a bazooka. In the fifth locker, I hit pay dirt. I couldn’t help but laugh. Seemed the local union had a walkout planned. I could hardly blame them, considering the contents of those vending machines. Not even one bag of Fritos.

  I grabbed the large, plastic bottle. It was about the size of your average household cleaner, minus the spray nozzle. Too bad. The ability to squirt this stuff would be better than a bazooka.

  I twisted off the lid and waited by the door, poised to launch my chemical warfare objective.

  The tearing and breaking got louder then paused. Bug Face had finally dug his way through the carnage to my side of the warehouse. Now he was trying to figure out where I had gone. It only took about six seconds before one of his mantis-style cleavers cut the door in half, and a sickly, green limb kicked the rest of it out of the way, leaving room for Bug Face to come inside.

  I held my ground, crouched just to the side of the door. As soon as Bug Face showed his ugly green mug, I let him have it.

  I squeezed the bottle of DEET, and threw it at his face, splashing the wet chemical all over his head. Bug Face reared back, trying desperately to wipe the oily compound away. It wouldn’t kill him, but to Bug Face, DEET was pretty much like getting maced, tear gassed, and pepper-sprayed all at the same time. He wouldn’t be happy, but I hoped to buy myself enough time to sneak past him and out of his warehouse.

  I ran toward the front of the building. Bug Face had cut quite a swath in his fury to get at me. I barely had to duck or dodge any debris at all. Once I was past the wreckage, I saw the bisected table with the painting and my Whip Crack nearby. To my surprise, so was Alex. She stood just inside an exit, next to the big rolling door that Bug Face closed to trap me inside.

  “What did you do?” Alex’s face was a mask of fear and astonishment. “I thought they were going to be pissed about the car, but this...”

  I holstered my Whip Crack, grabbed the crate containing the painting, then sprinted toward the door.

  “Yeah, well, one of them is still here, and he’s an armored tank of slashy anger. Let’s get out of here before he introduces himself.”

  Alex held the door for me so I could squeeze though with my bulky payload. “Have any trouble with your party goers? I was worried when I saw one of them had wings.”

  “We can trade war stories later.” Alex followed me out and slammed the door, eyeing the roadway, then the sky behind us. “For now, let’s get this thing back to Hula Harry’s. The longer we’re out in the open, the more likely we’ll pick up a tail.”

  I agreed with a nod and started off in a jog.

  Alex followed suit, keeping her head on a swivel while I concentrated on not falling on my face.

  “Remind me to stop helping you with these little adventures,” Alex grumbled. “I like my face where it is. I’m tired of your angry friends trying to tear it off.”

  I chuckled. “Think of all the fun you’d miss. When was the last time you got to drive a Cadillac in Hell?”

  Alex huffed. “Cadillacs are fine. I just don’t like all the suicidal complications.”

  I hopped over a bent piece of rusted angle iron and smiled. “Picky, picky. Next you’ll want a wet bar too.”

  “More running and less talking. This isn’t the only job we have to do today, and I’d like to be in one piece when we get to the next one.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I shook off the remnants of another spectacular dumpster landing outside the rail yard near the Oregon Sea Port. I had all but given up the thought of using the Envisage Splice with any dignity. If there was a dumpster, a cesspool, or even a poodle sized pile of dog doo, I would land in it. Presently, my boots marinated in the remnants of a ranch dressing soaked salad that had baked in the sun too long. At least it was better than poop ... barely.

  “Don’t you think we’ve had enough excitement for one day?” I scraped my boot in the gravel to remove the remains of my unwanted roughage. “Why are we back in another train yard?”

  “Relax,” Alex said. “Unlike your missions, this one is well-planned and does not involve scores of Hellion guards or stealing cars on the fly.”

  I scoffed. “I wouldn’t say there were scores of Hellion guards. A bunch, maybe even a horde, but definitely not scores.”

  I looked up from my foot scraping to see Alex eyeing me with that I’m about to do something painful to your body look.

  “Or scores are good. We can go with scores.”

  Alex looked away and kept walking. “I just want to be sure our train is on time. It should be pulling out this afternoon. I don’t want anything going wrong with this operation.”

  “What could go wrong?” I said almost under my breath. “We’re going to crash a train right in the middle of a city and kill hundreds of people. Seems like a bullet proof party to me.”

  This time Alex did turn around to face me. “I am getting a little sick of reminding you of why we’re doing this.” She paused. “Actually, I don’t know why I keep using the word ‘we.’ You haven’t done anything but complain since I came up with this idea. It would’ve been nice if you had lifted a pinky to help, but I didn’t even ask for that. I’m trying to secure both our positions in The Agency. The least you could do is be a little grateful for it.”

  I wanted to say something helpful, but I couldn’t even make myself look her in the eye. Bottom line, Alex had decided to willingly kill lots of people, and I was not okay with that, no matter what it did for our reputation at The Agency or my cover and credibility in the Denarii Division. I had to stop her, and if not her, then I had to stop the train. And since Judas grounded me by taking away my Splice pin, I had no idea how I would do either.

  When I didn’t meet Alex’s gaze, she snarled out an angry groan and kept walking.

  “This is our train. Try not to screw anything up while I’m gone. I have a contact in the dispatcher’s office. I’m going to find out if anything’s been delayed. You stay here and pout or whatever it is you’ve decided to do on this job.”

  Alex stormed off toward the main building in the yard while I hung back, trying to make myself invisible. I watched as crews checked the open cars and the locomotives set to pull them. They worked the train back and forth, adding the last of the hoppers, all empty coal carriers, and a few box cars on the end. Nothing remarkable. Nothing to sabotage from here either, at least not in a way that would stop the trip from happening. I stayed to the shadows, watching helplessly as Alex’s mi
le long battering ram built itself and got ready to leave. The actions of the yard staff looked so innocuous. They had no idea they were loading the shell into a cannon.

  I watched as the rail workers operated like a well-built machine, everyone doing their part ... all but one man standing next to the end of the line. Better dressed than the rest of the yard crew, in jeans, a polo, and nice coat, he seemed to loiter, glancing up and down the line. No one expected him to work or give orders. He was just a part of the landscape, yet there for a reason. The whole scenario felt familiar somehow, but I couldn’t lay my finger on why.

  Before I could figure it out, Alex came jogging toward me looking almost giddy. “Everything’s on track.” She snorted. “No pun intended.”

  She turned her gaze toward the train, her grin unwavering. “This is actually going to work. I can’t believe it.” She grabbed my arm and shook it like she had just been called down as the next contestant on The Price is Right. She was so excited, she even danced a little, hopping jig. It about made me sick.

  How could she be so excited about killing innocent people? Alex—the partner I had come to know and trust. The woman I would have laid my life down for, but now ...

  I managed to paste on a plastic smile and went in for a congratulatory hug. The moment I threw my arms around her, Alex stopped dancing. For a second, she did nothing, but then she hugged me back. It was about as awkward a moment as awkward got, but I pushed through and then stepped away from her.

  “Thanks for doing all of this. I know I haven’t been all that grateful.”

  Alex eyed me with suspicion. “Not that I don’t appreciate the sudden gratitude, but why the change of heart?”

  I shrugged. “I had a moment to think while I watched these people work the train. Everyone’s life is temporary right? Why am I getting so hung up on rushing a few of them to their final destination? This is going to be great for our careers. We can make it up to them later. Maybe Dan can give them free Cokes, at least the ones that end up in The Nine.” I laughed, feeling sick to my stomach. “Really, thanks for setting this up. You can count on me to have your back from now on.”

  Alex still didn’t look all that convinced, but her infectious smile would not be stamped out by my B-movie acting or anything else.

  “All right then.” Alex grabbed hold of my arm, reestablishing our physical connection. I couldn’t help but feel the familiar jolt of electricity at her touch, although, now it felt tainted and sickly. “Let’s head back home to celebrate. All we need to do now is wait until the train hits the last waystation before Bozeman. We’ll meet it there, force the engineer to get it rolling, then kick everyone off, and watch the fireworks.”

  I nodded. “Like I said, sounds pretty bulletproof.”

  I smiled, turning my attention forward as we walked out of the yard, feeling the familiar shape of a metallic lapel pin hidden in my hand.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Getting back to The Judas Agency without Alex noticing her missing lapel pin had been easy. As long as we were together, the jump back went like it always had. Returning the pin before she noticed it was gone would be a different story. In the meantime, my newfound computer skills came in handy for finding the right location for my little sabotage operation. Skills might be a strong word. There was a considerable amount of cursing, shouting, punching, and even a few creative threats involving the program’s circuitry that I was not proud of. All in all, it brought me to the place where I now stood. The Strough’s Bridge over Trestle Creek. It was a ragged gouge in the Earth deep enough to hide a high-rise building and twice as wide. The bridge was an all metal marvel of I-beams, cables, and steel plates. A behemoth of modern engineering, and I needed to bring it all down.

  I climbed over the guardrail about a quarter way down and tried not to think about what the fall would do to my body if I slipped off the slick under-framing. It was almost dark, making it harder to see, but the rocky bottom was still there. I would heal, in theory, but that almost made it worse. Surviving a fall meant I would feel every bone-breaking, organ-exploding moment of impact. A sensation I had no desire to experience.

  The beams underneath the bridge were massive. Much larger than they seemed in the photos. My evil computer showed me which ones to compromise, but even with the right intel, this would take a while. Not good. Every moment I had Alex’s pin in my possession sunk me in the circumstantial evidence department. She would either think I stole it to get here because I didn’t have mine, true, or think I stole it to keep her from following me. Not true, but I probably would have if the first part weren’t necessary.

  Nothing to do about it now. I was here. Time to go to work.

  I tried to make myself comfortable in a crook of the support structure and laid my hands on either side of one of the beams. My Topside power was pretty lame as superpowers went. I could rust out metal with my hands. Not as cool as Alex’s fire power, but I had been practicing. At first, I could only manage a little hand shaped surface rust, but after a while, I was able to rust through sheet metal with a fair amount of effort. I had no idea how long it would take to rust all the way through these heavy support beams. Considering they were designed to carry tons of cargo, I definitely had my work cut out for me.

  BNSF was the only railroad who used this line, and our train was the next one scheduled to make the trip across. I just had to be sure the bridge failed when it arrived. If all went well, it would be a wild west style train crash into the ravine. No people to hurt, no buildings to destroy, no rivers to pollute. Just a small creek and a whole lot of steel and coal dust. It should be a spectacular show.

  I sat there concentrating all my effort into my hands, feeling the metal beneath my palms begin to bubble and flake. It went from smooth and weathered to fat and brittle. It would take a lot more time to wear all the way through, and I needed to rust through more than one, but this would work.

  Evening came and went as a full moon took the place of the twilight glow, allowing me to see the remaining girders I needed to rust before I left for the night. My mind raced as I sat there, swirling with thoughts of Alex. I wanted to believe deep down that ambition had blinded her. She was a good person; I had to believe that. But having a position at The Judas Agency meant safety and security. A place to live and belong. A situation very few Niners got to enjoy. It was too much for Alex to gamble against.

  The hug at the train station haunted me too. It was not a passionate kiss or a profession of true love, but Alex had taken it for more than it was—a veiled ploy to steal her lapel pin. Worse than that, I wanted to feel it too. I wanted to believe there was something between us, but this whole train idea had my head screwed on sideways. What if she wasn’t the woman I thought she was? What if The Agency really had turned her heart cold? I could never be with someone like that ... could I?

  A noise brought me out of my ruminations, and I lifted my head to the tracks above me. It wasn’t possible, yet there it was. The unmistakable click-clack of an oncoming train. I stopped pouring power into the last beam and turned my ear to the sky. It came from the West. The wrong direction. A locomotive headed that way would run headlong into our coal train way before it got to my bridge disaster. That was unless the other train triggered the collapse first.

  I scrambled out of my perch, no longer worrying about the long trip to the rocks below. If I fell now, it would be a blessing compared to being tangled in a mass of screaming steel and locomotive parts.

  As I clambered up off the rusted bits of metal, the bridge groaned and creaked under its own weight. Suddenly, I worried that I had taken away too much of its stability. If it collapsed before the train got here, all would be lost as well. Maybe Alex was right. I didn’t think my plans through all that well. I had become so focused on rusting out the bridge and seeing a crash that I never considered any other logistics.

  The clacking got louder as I made it onto the top of the bridge. I started running as soon as my feet hit the railroad ties. Flagging the t
rain down crossed my mind, but even if I got the engineer’s attention, they would never be able to stop in time. Plus, how would I explain that I knew the bridge was unstable? No. I just had to get out of the way, hide, and watch the consolation show. I was just about to hide in a nearby stand of brush when another thought hit me. There would be a conductor, and an engineer, and maybe passengers on that train. What if I had sabotaged a passenger train full of people, thereby causing a disaster even bigger than the one I wanted to prevent?

  I ran faster. My heart and thoughts raced. Images of passenger cars filled with screaming people plummeting to the rocky depths below filled my head. Chance or no chance, I had to try and stop that train from reaching the bridge.

  Lights came into view around the bend. I started waving my arms like a wild man as I ran, but something didn’t seem right. The lights were too dim, too low to the ground, and there were two of them. Didn’t trains only have one big light in the middle?

  I slowed to a jog and watched as the lights got closer. It wasn’t a train at all. It was ... a truck, on the railroad tracks. It took a moment for my brain to rectify the dichotomy. A maintenance truck running the line. And if the driver saw me ...

  I dove behind a bush and prayed I hadn’t been noticed. The truck approached, click-clacking along the line, louder and louder, then it passed by without slowing down, heading straight for the bridge.

  I simultaneously stood up, crouched back down, opened my mouth to shout, and shut it again several times. What if the bridge failed under the truck’s weight? What if it didn’t? Did I stop the truck and save the driver’s life or let him go and hope the bridge held until the locomotive came to trigger the collapse as planned?

  I held my breath as the decision was made for me. The truck made it to the bridge and kept on going. About a quarter the way down, I saw brake lights. The same spot I had sat for the past few hours doing my work. The truck slowed almost to a stop, then the brake lights went off, and the truck continued, never wavering again.