Graveslinger

by Darren Compton

  The train still pressed forward, but its pace dropped by half in what seemed like two seconds.

  Rutger helped Liama up, cradling her head, and when Thomas regained his balance, he assisted. “Baby?” he asked, trembling. “Baby, are you okay?” His hands took over cradling her head, with one hand softly on her cheek.

  Her eyes fluttered. They looked to her daddy, and after a moment, she said, “I’m okay, Daddy.” She felt the back of her head and touched blood. Her lips trembled, fighting back tears, and Thomas positioned himself to look at it. The bump already swelled. “Is it bad?” she asked, sniffling.

  “No, baby, it’s not bad. Just gonna need some aspirin for a little while.”

  She tried to laugh, but it hurt.

  Rutger waited until he had Thomas’s attention and said, “We’ll be right back.”

  Thomas nodded as Rutger stood up.

  Fiya passed Thomas, giving Liama a thumbs-up as she looked at her. Liama returned the gesture and smiled, swiping a stream of tears from the side of her face with her other hand.

  Fiya and Rutger closed the door behind them, and Thomas promptly locked it.

  Fiya climbed the ladder first, and Rutger followed. Her limping had subsided a bit. She didn’t know if it was just because she ached all over, so her nerves were reacting everywhere or if the damn gunshot in her leg finally stopped giving off pain. She hoped the latter.

  However, Rutger had not stopped watching her limp, even if it didn’t seem as severe. Putting a blade into the demon responsible for hurting Fiya didn’t quite give him the satisfaction he expected. Then something popped in his head, something Violess mentioned when she attempted to interrogate and brag to him. “Hey, Fiya …?”

  “Sí?” She paused, part-way up the ladder.

  “Was there anyone else on our team left alive, other than Paul?”

  She thought for a moment and then shook her head slowly. “Not that I recall. He was the only other one who responded. Why?”

  “I just remembered that Violess mentioned a plural form when she hinted about traitors. She said something like ‘those we didn’t kill easily turned over for us.’ Could be a bluff … but be careful around anyone you might not recognize, assuming we get out of this.”

  She nodded slowly. “Aye aye, sir.” She tried not to put much weight on her leg as she ascended the ladder. Before she got to the top, she asked, “Think it was that thing that hit us?”

  “If it hit us, we’d be off the tracks and probably crushed into the side of the mountain.”

  “Oh, shit,” she said as she reached the top, standing as Rutger joined her. She pointed out toward the back of the train. “That’s why we’re slow …”

  From the top of the passenger car, they gaped upon the sight of Bahtzuul, perched like a gigantic cat on the caboose of the train. Its tremendous weight dramatically crushed the train’s pace. The word Fiya looked for but couldn’t spit out was majestic, frighteningly majestic. Its presence terrified and awed her at the same time.

  Three regal horns lined each brow above his eyes, small horns near the center of his face and longer as they sprouted nearer to the ears. They gave her the impression of a wicked crown. A mohawk of thinner spikes lined from the top of his head and down the back of his neck like steel rivets, exponentially growing larger the further down the spine it went. His scales were dulled dark red as if they were stained in a thousand years of blood.

  Sparks flared and sprayed from the wheels underneath the caboose, and the roof crunched in, struggling to support the weight of the beast. It wouldn’t be long before the caboose car completely caved in.

  His long neck, twice the length of his head, swayed to the car in front of it, peering into the windows on each side. Bahtzuul didn’t seem to notice Fiya or Rutger.

  Like lightning, Bahtzuul threw his hand on top of the car in front of him and reached inside with the other, grabbing someone from inside. It happened so fast that Fiya and Rutger didn’t even have time to gasp. One of the few ghouls who managed to hitch a ride squirmed in Bahtzuul’s grip, trying to lash out, pathetically hitting its armored fist with a baseball bat. When it didn’t work, it tried to bite through his scales. The ghoul’s teeth burst from their rotten gums.

  Then Fiya said, “So … rock, paper, scissors?” She put out her fist without taking her eyes off the demon.

  Rutger ignored her question. “Maybe all the undead meat it’s been consuming has, I hate to say the word, but I can’t think of anything else right now, but the ghoul meat has made it retarded? I thought it was supposed to be less … animalistic.”

  Fiya still had her fist up. “Huh?”

  Bahtzuul tore into the ghoul. Chomping and ripping with such efficiency, it was like watching a land version of a tiger shark ... only with hands ... hands with opposable thumbs … and with claws.

  “Well, that demon bitch did say she wanted fresh living blood. She didn’t say it wouldn’t work with undead blood or dead blood.” He took his gaze off Bahtzuul to turn and smile at Fiya. “She wound up conjuring a mongrel version of what she ordered.”

  “Cooked in a microwave as opposed to properly baking?” Fiya asked. She smiled back, though her mask hid it. “Lulz.”

  During their brief conversation, Bahtzuul’s eyes wandered to the front of the train, scanning, and froze as he targeted Fiya and Rutger. His nostrils flared, smelling them from afar. Fiya didn’t like being sniffed by predators more than once a day and ground her teeth.

  Bahtzuul swallowed what was left of the ghoul remaining in his jaws, dropping its legs as if casting aside the bones from a plate of buffalo wings. They disappeared into the green landscape. He made two crawling steps to the car in front of it and snagged himself a ghoulie snack. Now that car’s wheels sputtered sparks too.

  Motioning her fist again, Fiya suggested, “Rock, paper, scissors?”

  “Ladies first.”

  She sighed and put her fist away. “Aye aye, sir.”

  The train twisted around another mountain, this time with enough of a curve where anyone in the passenger car below looking out their windows could see Bahtzuul anchoring the train. Crying, gasps, shocks, awe, and cursing came from below in a chorus that barely registered above the mechanical roar of the train.

  However, Bahtzuul heard the passengers crystal clear; He spied on them through the windows with pinpoint vision. Bahtzuul tilted his head, and the scaly lips flickered and twitched into what became a terrifying smile. He licked those lips with his python-like tongue.

  Fiya asked, “Is it just me, or did he just eye-fuck his next meal?” She put her hand on the grip of the revolver, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

  “Hrmm, wait - I want to try something,” Rutger said, raising his hand to stop Fiya.

  She turned to him, her hand still on the butt of the Blackhawk, as he marched forward.

  “Stay here,” he said. “Hand me your sword.”

  “Why? You have your axe.”

  “Just let me have it for a moment.” He wiggled his fingers at her, ready to accept the sword.

  She hesitated at first and then did what he asked, bummed that she just got her blade back only moments ago and was already handing it off.

  Rutger approached the edge of the passenger car and jumped over to the next as if he were hopping over a rain puddle. Fiya thought about following, and he glanced back, holding up the palm of his hand to her as if reading her mind, warning her to stay put. She obeyed, fingers twitching on the Blackhawk.

  She nearly jumped when Rutger called out with a thunderous roar: “Bahtzuul!” He held the blade out like a crucifix, hilt-side up. He gripped the blade just enough so it wouldn’t cut his palms or fingers, with the crossguard above his fist. “I command you, unclean spirit Bahtzuul, with all your minions now attacking this servant of God!”

  This broke Bahtzuul’s concentration, stopping him from creeping up along the train, drooling over the prisoners in the passenger car. He leered at the bloody mess that was
Rutger, sizing him up. One of his serpentine eyes narrowed, letting the other zero in and study him.

  Fiya decided to follow anyway and proceeded forward with caution.

  Rutger’s eyes were fierce and bold. He paid no attention to Fiya joining him as he kept his focus on the demon lord. “By the mysteries of incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for Judgement, that you tell me by some sign your name …”

  “Thou art nay augured …” Bahtzuul growled, interrupting Rutger’s speech. His voice was like many voices speaking at once: all cruel, all terrible, all burning with hate and hunger.

  Bewilderment smeared across both Fiya and Rutger’s face. Rutger lowered the sword and said, “Holy shit! It spoke.”

  “He’s right, though,” Fiya wryly added. “You’re not a priest.”

  Rutger tried to shake off his confusion, but that was only met with frustration. “Shit! I can’t remember the rest of the Rite of Exorcism. I was on a roll too. You wouldn’t happen to have a pocket Bible in your little bag, do you?”

  “Nada.”

  “Damn.”

  “At least Bahtzuul speaks English. Really fucking old English, but still English.” She shrugged.

  “Of course. He didn’t have hundreds of years to adapt, so he’s going to speak in the manner of when he was put down for the first time.”

  “Awesome. Let’s not give him time to adapt.”

  The tracks guided the train to a brief straightaway, and Bahtzuul stopped prowling. He raised his mighty head, puffing out his enormous chest. He had slithered up and crunched down on the lounge car, only two cars away from Fiya and Rutger. He appeared like he sucked in the air to prepare for the mightiest sneeze and held it in for a maximum burst. Icy teal light fumed from inside his mouth, swirling, and collecting energy. Flashes of white and teal flames flickered from between his teeth like sparklers.

  Rutger tossed the sword up just enough to rotate about 180 degrees in the air, and then he caught it by the hilt with the same hand.

  Gripping the Blackhawk, Fiya drew it from the holster and fired a can’t-miss shot at Bahtzuul’s enormous, heaving chest. She was confident the silver bullet, blessed by the runes of the Immortuos Venandi, would strike true, and it did. However, silver was known as a weak metal and was only really used for weapons when it came to lycanthropic creatures.

  Following the satisfying discharge was a disheartening thud and ping. The bullet left the revolver and hit Bahtzuul dead center in the chest. The scales merely dented upon impact, and what was left of the silver bullet fell and tumbled into the lounge car, resembling a shiny metal piece of chewed gum.

  “Fuck,” she grumbled.

  Wasting no time, Rutger charged across the train car until he got to the other side. Instead of jumping to the next car, he launched the broken sword like a javelin with a guttural “HUNGH!”

  It flew and nailed the inside of Bahtzuul’s mouth.

  The behemoth lashed around, his head flailing about like a spazzing rattlesnake, and they all felt the train start to shake off the tracks. Bahtzuul let out a roar of pain as the teal light fizzled away. The sword’s hilt stuck out of his jaw like a fancy toothpick.

  Rutger looked back toward Fiya, away from Bahtzuul, with a smug, shit-eating grin on his bruised and bloodied face. Indeed, the old man still had it in him.

  To his surprise, Fiya sprinted to him as the train gained a sudden burst of speed. Rutger lost his balance and almost fell, so he dropped to a single knee and used his free hand to maintain his balance.

  Before Fiya could reach him, Rutger found himself snatched by the gargantuan claws of Bahtzuul and flying up into the air.

  She leaped, trying to jump and catch him, but found herself rolling on top of the next car. She ignored her leg’s desperate plea of pain as she watched Bahtzuul carry her mentor off.

  The beast was airborne again, and within the grasp of his claws, Rutger struggled. Gaining elevation, Rutger twisted for comfort, trying to loosen his arms, but the demon beast only squeezed tighter. “Ohhhh, you mutha …” Rutger grumbled, as he saw the train below him get smaller and smaller.

  Liama plunked back in a seat when the train doubled its speed, but Thomas had to grab onto one to keep himself from being thrown back.

  He had been comforting Liama while the others panicked about a dragon hitching a ride on the train. He hated how loud they became, like scared chickens every time the fox came running by the henhouse. Their noise upset Liama, and she flinched at every shriek. He continued to comfort her with a reassuring shhh, and she would nod and wipe a newborn tear on the edge of her sleeve. If she hadn’t hurt her head, she might not even be as upset. Everything felt sensitive.

  The prisoners took encouragement at the burst in speed, though they couldn’t resist giving another loud cry as they slammed into the backs of their chairs. The ones who were standing nearly fell over into the chairs behind them. Thomas refrained from laughing at Harriet getting her gut stick on top of one of the chairs. He found it comical, watching her little legs dance until one of the others helped her back down.

  When Harriet, Marie, and many others put their faces on the glass again, their outbursts settled. Thomas felt a vibe of comfort that everything could finally be over. He heard a gunshot earlier: perhaps it worked? They did it, he thought, they actually did it!

  “Can we go home now?” Liama asked, looking up at her father, who regained his balance and posed with the rifle as if he were a proper guard.

  “When Mr. Bronson gets this train to a real station, yes, honey, we can go home.”

  “I mean real home.”

  He gently put his hand on her head. “Back at the ‘Bay?”

  She nodded with a pout.

  “I suppose we could.” He looked out the window. The view revealed a grey yet lush view of the west. Farther in the distance, he thought he could make out the Seattle Space Needle, but it was possible he just imagined it.

  The tracks took a slight turn west, and his view shifted to the jagged ridges of Kyes Peak looking right back at them. The towering matterhorn of the Cascades’ Sloan Peak peeked around Kyes, flattening to rolling green hills. Beyond many mountain ripples decreasing in size, the tracks headed for Seattle.

  With a low sigh, Thomas added, “I probably don’t have that job anymore, anyway, figuring I was a no-show. They probably don’t care how good this excuse is.”

  When he finished, the train swooshed into a mountain tunnel. Everything went dark. Though the engine car ran at full power, and the other cars were linked, Violess’s little cult never bothered to hook up the rest of the electricity. Of course, why would they? It was intended as a one-way trip for the offerings. They didn’t give a crap if anyone could see anything inside their cars. The demons and ghouls could see without light, anyway.

  The tunnel was brief, and the train shot back out into glorious daylight.

  The rear car door rattled, alerting everyone. The glass of the door was a frosted texture obscuring the shape of the person on the other side, but thanks to a familiar bright pink-and-black ensemble, Thomas could recognize the shape on the other side. He rushed to the door and unlocked it.

  As soon as he did, Fiya burst through, ignoring him, and her dark almond eyes darted around, never focusing on any one thing and seeing through everyone. She appeared on the verge of hysteria.

  “Fiya, are we all clear?” Thomas asked, but she didn’t seem to hear him.

  She marched to the front of the car while pausing to think for a moment, and when she got to the other door, she unlocked it.

  “Is everything okay?” Liama asked, standing in her seat. The other escapees focused on Fiya, also wanting her to answer, but didn’t appear as treasured as Liama. Her eyes were big, and her mouth was small.

  Fiya’s lone visible eye settled on her. She reminded Fiya of one of those Precious Moments dolls her Mama used to collect. Whatever happened to tho
se? Are those still a thing? Shaddup and focus you moron!

  Thomas looked at the open rear door and noticed Fiya came through alone. His eyes widened, and he looked back at her. “Oh, no …”

  “Where’s the other guy?” the man with the thick, scraggly beard asked.

  Harriet butted in, “Is he dead?”

  But Fiya still didn’t pay attention. She looked down in the chair in front of Liama and saw something: paper, folded, stuffed between the seat and the armrest. She homed in on it and pulled it out. It was a route map and brochure, possibly twenty or thirty years old. The folds cracked, and some of the ink had flaked off, but it was still quite readable. It had Pacific Northwest Railways printed on it, yet Fiya couldn’t focus on it; her mind was too scattered.

  She handed the map to Thomas. “Try to figure out which track we’re on. That’s old enough; it might still be on there. I want to know if there may be another tunnel coming up or more. Please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, looking at the map.

  Liama curiously looked over his arm. It was printed in black and white, with clear routes and names.

  Fiya popped open the car’s frontside door and examined the couplers between the trains.

  Her sights landed on a lever and side-step and then noticed another on the opposite side-step. Both were white bars that led to the center coupler, ready to lift a pin out of place. She wasn’t sure if both needed to be pulled, or just one, and when she went to examine, a shadow flickered across her.

  She looked up and saw the demonic dragon soaring high above the train, with Rutger still in his clutches.

  The broken sword was in sight, and just out of Rutger’s reach. He had squeezed an arm loose to reach it while his other kept a grip on his axe, while Bahtzuul kept too tightly gripped for him to pull loose.

  Rutger thought the air was cold up at Glacier Peak, but the wind that rushed against him as Bahtzuul soared over the train felt even worse. He looked down and saw the train cruising along, shooting out of a tunnel. Three of the cars on its tail-end had been crushed in but not completely flattened, like a half-crushed aluminum soda can.