The Majestic 311

by Keith C. Blackmore

  “We’re speeding up,” Mackenzie said.

  “We’re speeding up,” Jimmy confirmed.

  “So what does that mean?” Eli barked at them. “Give me some goddamn answers here.”

  “For one,” Jimmy said, “means Leland and Nathan haven’t stopped the train.”

  That struck them speechless.

  “Something must’ve happened,” Mackenzie eventually said.

  Jimmy looked past Shorty Charlie Williams to the last door they entered.

  “You thinking of going back?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, shit,” Eli exploded and hopped on the spot. “What about the goddamn passengers?”

  Jimmy was already moving. “Shorty, you go with Eli and Gilbert. Find them passengers. Mackenzie, you come with me. And Eli?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re in charge until we get back.”

  That seemed to pacify the hard case.

  “Shorty?” Jimmy said, now at the car door.

  Charlie Williams turned.

  “Don’t let that brazen bastard do anything we’ll regret later on.”

  Shorty nodded that he would indeed do just that.

  Jimmy and Mackenzie disappeared behind the sliding door, which rolled closed behind them.

  A clearly pissed-off Eli regarded the hulking Shorty… and his ready shotgun.

  *

  “What do you think’s happening here?” Mackenzie asked as he followed Jimmy Norquay back into the last passenger car. The lamps, perhaps burning a touch dimmer, streaked by overhead, creating an almost dreamlike quality to the varnished mahogany frames. The green cushions were colored a deeper hue, and the air remained redolent of pipe smoke and fading perfumes.

  “No idea,” the man replied as he hurried through the deserted aisle. “None.”

  Mackenzie lowered his scarf, his face glistening. “Well, there’s sure as hell something going on here.”

  Jimmy slowed to a stop and faced his companion. “I don’t know, Mackenzie. All I know is we’re on an empty train, with about five more cars than there should be.”

  “An empty train picking up speed,” Mackenzie reminded him.

  Jimmy nodded. “Yeah.”

  “You think Shorty will be okay?”

  “Shorty’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t like Eli. Think I mentioned that a few days back.”

  “I don’t like him either,” Jimmy said. “Think I mentioned that a few days back. Nobody likes him. Maybe except Leland. Leland got him with Gilbert and wanted a couple of shit-kickers. We needed them for this job.”

  “What do you think happened to the passengers?”

  “I don’t know that, either,” Jimmy said, but then he looked to the overhead compartments. Ornate walnut boxes with sliding doors and fancy designs. Varnish finishes shone. Jimmy reached up and slammed one of the boxes open, revealing an empty cavity.

  “Nothing,” Jimmy reported and handed his rifle to the other man. He gripped the compartment’s edge and, planting his boots on a seat cushion, pulled himself up to look inside.

  “Nothing,” he repeated. “Like a bare ass pantry.”

  “No baggage?” Mackenzie asked.

  “No baggage.” Jimmy dropped to the floor and righted himself. He studied the berths around him. “Nothing. No suitcases, nothing.”

  He went from one row to the other, scrutinizing each one in turn.

  “Maybe the passengers took them,” Mackenzie said as he followed. “When they left the train.”

  “All right,” Jimmy said, going along for the moment. “But then why did they get off?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They stared at each other then, puzzling things over, before Jimmy spoke. “Let’s get back to Leland. Something’s going on up front, and I’ll bet we’ll find our answers there.”

  “The engineers?”

  “The engineers,” Jimmy said, taking his rifle back. “They’ll know what’s going on.”

  8

  “Well…” Leland muttered, clearly shaken by the ghostly engineer and its unexpected departure from the train. Nathan could tell the gang leader was trying his best to compose himself.

  The strength returned to Nathan’s legs, and he rose shakily—a little too fast as the cab seemed to tilt one way and then the other. He staggered to the box car filled with wood (and a portion of coal, he noticed) and stretched his neck to see. Freezing wind and snow attacked his face as he looked around, but the thick steam clouds streaming past blinded him.

  “See anything?” Leland wanted to know.

  “Not a damn thing.” Nathan crossed to the other side of the cab and gazed over the edge. “Nothing.”

  “Too harsh out there,” Leland said, raising his voice to be heard over the engine’s rising clamor.

  Nathan returned to the cab’s considerable depths, the elements swirling and beating at his back. “The hell was that, Leland?”

  The older man didn’t answer, his face pale, and his eyes glassy with uncertainty.

  “I mean, you saw the same thing, right?” Nathan demanded with mounting energy. “‘Cause I saw… I saw a goddamn ghost. A goddamn ghost, Leland. That’s what I saw. That’s what I shot. Twice. Shot twice and the damn thing was just as dead as it was before. Alive, I mean. I mean—you know what I mean.”

  Leland pressed himself against a wall and noticed the engineer’s seat. He sat down heavily, dazed as if gut shot.

  Nathan wasn’t unaffected by the sight. “You okay?

  Leland met the other man’s concerned gaze. “I’m fine. Just… you know.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Leland took a deep settling breath, as if remembering why they’d come to the front of the train in the first place. He stood and staggered to the controls, studying the levers and dials. One dial had taken a bullet to the face, wrecking it completely. There were three levers and Leland considered them all.

  “One of these is the brake,” he said. “One is to increase steam pressure, which will make the train go faster.”

  Nathan picked up his hat and put it on before joining Leland at the controls.

  “He pulled that one there,” Nathan said and pointed. “And the train sped up.”

  “You sure?”

  “No.”

  That drew a look from Leland.

  “My head was rolling at the time,” Nathan explained. “But what the hell? Just leave it and try the others.”

  Leland looked from one gauge to the gunshot one. “I think this is the water pressure. Or steam.”

  “Best choose one,” Nathan said. “And do it fast. Unless you figure we can back this thing up from the caboose, because it’s gonna be a long walk back to Milton.”

  “Dammit.” The leader arbitrarily gripped the nearest lever and slowly pulled it from right to left.

  Chumpchumpchumpchumpchumpchump…

  “Nothing,” Leland said, waiting for a reaction. “Not one damn thing.”

  Nathan fixed his hat’s string under his chin and held onto it. He then stuck his head out the nearest window and was immediately blinded by snow and steam.

  “Can’t see a thing, Leland,” he said. “Not even the ground.”

  Leland inspected one gauge, the one the ghost had slapped, and read, “New York Industrial Mills.”

  “What’s that then?” Nathan asked, pulling himself back inside.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know any of this. Probably the manufacturer, but it doesn’t say the purpose of the gauge.”

  Leland pushed the lever into the original position and moved to another. He gripped it, and with the same careful pressure, cranked the thing to the opposite side until it touched a dimpled iron plate.

  Nathan waited, studying the floor, imagining the wheels underfoot turning, racing.

  “Nothing,” Leland reported, still holding the handle.

  “Not one goddamn thing,” Nathan agreed. “Pull the last one.”

  “You
said that one sped up the train.”

  “Said I wasn’t sure. My head was messed up. Could’ve been any one of them, tell the truth.”

  “Well, that’s no good.”

  “Look,” Nathan said and tried to think. “You tried two already and the train ain’t slowed down yet, right?

  Leland paused as if listening to the train. “I believe you’re right.”

  “So that lever must be a brake, right?” Nathan quickly inspected the controls. There wasn’t anything left, so the last two controls must have been ‘stop’ and ‘go’. Three levers total, and Leland held the last.

  Without warning, the gang leader moved the lever to the right.

  And the train continued to roll.

  Chumpchumpchumpchumpchumpchump…

  The two robbers regarded each other over the sound of the speeding locomotive.

  “Holy shit,” Nathan said for them both.

  9

  Growing more and more pissed with each passing minute, Eli strode to the door of the next car and whipped it open with a clatter.

  “Christ Almighty,” he swore. He stormed ahead into what was yet another empty passenger car. Gilbert duly followed while Shorty Charlie Williams brought up the rear, glancing at the seats as he passed.

  “Where the hell are you people?” a furious Eli demanded. He stopped once to check the overhead compartments. He whipped them open with mounting frustration. Each one was empty.

  “You bastards and bitches jump train or what?” he yelled and proceeded to the next car. “What number is this, Gilbert?”

  “Uh, number nine, Eli.”

  “Number fuckin’ nine,” Eli fumed and yanked open the door to the vestibule, where the next door waited. Like the others, a dim light flickered beyond the portal’s window, noticeably darker than before, as if the oil lamps had burned themselves dry.

  Eli hefted his rifle, lowered his scarf just long enough to spit at a wall, and hoisted it up over his face. “It’s the heat that’s gettin’ to me,” he confided to Gilbert and Shorty as they joined him. “The goddamn heat. It’s rubbin’ me all the wrong way.”

  “It’s a long train,” Gilbert said.

  “It’s too goddamn long,” Eli snapped back, before shaking his head to clear it. “All right. Ready?”

  The two men nodded.

  “All I can say is, if it’s soldiers or police on the other side of this door, I’m gonna shoot one. Probably two. Maybe three. Just for makin’ us walk this goddamn distance. I’m gonna shoot them through the fuckin’ heart. Swear to Sunny Jesus himself.”

  Eli stormed through the vestibule, peeked in through the window, and shook his head. “Can’t see shit in there.”

  Gilbert glanced at the leather roof of the connecting section and teetered just a bit from the increasing rattle and roll of the train. The vestibules were colder than the cars as well. He cast a worried look back at Shorty, who didn’t say a word.

  “All right, here we go,” Eli said.

  He gripped the lever and yanked it open.

  The door slid open, revealing a darker, but just as empty, passenger car. Of the three light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, only one was functioning, shining a weak cone upon the midway point. There were oil lamps, but their near-finished reservoirs created fluttering pockets of light. All that dying light put a pleasant shine to the woodwork, an almost surreal quality in fact, but it was a darker finish, a touch gloomier, as if it were well past social hours.

  Not a soul was in sight.

  “I’m getting goddamn tired of this shit,” Eli muttered, shaking his head.

  10

  “Leland!”

  Both Nathan and Leland turned in the direction of the voice. Leland rushed toward the wood bin and held onto his hat, attempting to peer past the supply.

  “That you, Jimmy?” he shouted back.

  “Me and Mackenzie,” came back the holler.

  “You got them passengers secured?”

  “No passengers, Leland.”

  That dumbfounded both Nathan and Leland. “The hell you say?” the leader yelled.

  “Hold on. I’m coming over.”

  Several seconds later, the hunched form of Jimmy Norquay appeared through the freezing, swirling veils of snow. Nathan watched the man as he shuffled along, one hand over the other while shifting his feet, all to the increasingly impatient song of the train.

  Chumpchumpchumpchumpchumpchumpchumpchump…

  When he got close enough, Leland reached out and pulled his friend into the cab. Snow coated both men, but they ignored the elements and hunkered deep inside the metal walls.

  “Where’s the engineer?” Jimmy asked, pulling his scarf down and freeing his beard.

  Leland didn’t hesitate. “He jumped out the side.”

  That visibly stunned Jimmy. “He did what?”

  “He jumped,” Nathan said and pointed. “From right over there.”

  Jimmy glanced back at the wood bin, then sized up the cab itself. “How the hell he get past you to do that?”

  “Never mind that,” Leland said, indicating the train controls. “You know how to stop a train?”

  Jimmy studied the man’s face before nodding. He then walked over to the controls and inspected the sparse features. “What happened here?” he asked, pointing at the shot gauge.

  “Stray bullet,” Leland said.

  “You shot at the engineer?”

  “Stop the train, Jimmy,” Leland said in a stern tone, “and we’ll talk about the engineer afterwards.”

  That cutting voice surprised the Metis man, but he just nodded and turned back to the controls. Without hesitation, he wrapped his fingers around the second lever Leland had tried, and slowly applied pressure.

  The train did not stop.

  Jimmy’s face crunched up in confusion. He turned the lever until it could go no further, then checked the controls for alternatives. Confused, he reset the handle and tried again—to no avail.

  “That’s all there is,” Nathan said. “Leland tried them all.”

  “One of them stray bullets blow something out?” Jimmy asked.

  Leland faltered. “I… don’t know.”

  Nathan came to his rescue. “How the hell could a stray bullet do something to the brakes? Most everything here is made of iron, anyway.”

  That got Jimmy studying the interior again. “Well, that’s the brake handle. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re going faster. Well beyond any point we planned on.”

  “Milton’s probably shittin’ his britches right now,” Nathan said.

  “Milton will wait for us,” Leland countered. “Don’t you worry about him. He might not be the smartest in the group, but he’s got common sense.”

  The curt admonishment quieted Nathan and made him feel a little guilty about saying anything ill about the man. Of course, Milton did indeed seem dependable to him. Nathan just spoke out of line was all—the heat of the moment.

  “So what do we do?” Jimmy asked, changing subjects.

  “What about them passengers?” Leland asked.

  “Like I said, Leland. No passengers.”

  “What?”

  “None,” Jimmy shrugged. “We went through seven passenger cars. All high-class ones. Not a soul to be seen.”

  That clearly puzzled Leland, and he failed to muster a question. Nathan struggled to get a hold of his own confusion.

  “No baggage either,” Jimmy added. “I sent Eli, Gilbert, and Shorty on ahead while Mackenzie and I came back here, to find out why the train was speeding up.”

  “Where’s Mackenzie?” Nathan asked.

  “On the other side of that wood bin, holding onto my rifle. The walkway’s covered in snow and getting slicker than cow shit.”

  “No passengers,” Leland muttered.

  Jimmy didn’t bother to comment.

  “No pay car then, either?”

  “Not yet,” Jimmy answered.

  Leland thought about it. “All right. This i
s what we’ll do. We’ll finish the job. Scour the last of the train, and make our way to the caboose. We’ll decouple it if we can and ride it ‘til it comes to a stop.”

  “Why not decouple the engine?” Nathan asked.

  Jimmy and Leland looked at each other. “I like that idea even better,” the gang leader said.

  They glanced around and stopped at the engineer’s seat. Leland pulled up the cushion, which doubled as a toolbox, and extracted a hammer, a spike, and a set of tongs.

  “Jesus,” Nathan said, eyeing the three items.

  “Don’t you worry,” Leland assured him with that crinkly smile of his, his confidence returning. “We’ll slow this horse down one way or the other. And we’ll get that payroll car.”

  11

  Eli didn’t bother waiting for Gilbert or Shorty when he got to the tenth passenger car door. He grabbed for the handle and yanked it open.

  And stopped and stared.

  Therein, sitting perfectly upright in their seats, under lights just a little more diminished than the previous car, were passengers. The men wore light coats and proper suits, their manes slicked and oiled and parted straight down the middle. The women were all gussied up in white traveling dresses with short, stylish coats, with their hair set in stylish poofs or covered in pretty shawls. The children were all outfitted in scuffed shoes and winter jackets. Every face lifted at the violent opening of the door, and all conversations came to a lurching stop.

  Eli stared back in horrified wonder and realized he didn’t have his scarf up and around his nose.

  “Shit,” he growled. He covered up while pointing his rifle at the ceiling, then stepped into the car and allowed the boys behind him to spread out.

  With a captive audience, Eli took stage.

  “All right, you bunch of sorry lookin’ bloodsabitches, hands up. And I’m including the wives there, too. Stay where you are and lift your goddamn hands in the air. Any of you dapper bastards pull out a gun and I’ll shoot you dead. If I hear your wife cry out, I’ll shoot her dead, too, just because you thought to be all brave and shit. If any of you got children, get them close and keep them there. Now do it.”

  Roughly three dozen people did as they were told. Within seconds, a forest of hands sprouted from the berths.