The two men ran through the car, then another. They were then surprised to discover a livestock car, but the cages were filled with skeletons of not only horses and cows, but people as well.
Then another passenger car. And yet another.
Then a prisoner car, with about a dozen cages housing all manner of twisted alien creatures, all of which screeched at the two men as they raced through. There was not one man or woman among them, so Nathan and Eli let them be.
All the while, Nathan wasn’t sure if the sweat coming off his face in rivulets was from the winter clothing he still wore, or the ferocious heat of the nearing sun.
To his credit, Eli Gallant saved his breath for the run, not saying a goddamn word.
The pull still led Nathan along, and every door he opened.
They weren’t going to make it.
They had to make it.
The pull was still there. That ever-present, maddening pull!
They had to—
Nathan and Eli gasped and shuddered, their strength nearly exhausted, when they opened the next door and stopped dead in their tracks.
“Well fuck,” Eli snapped in horrified surprise, his shoulders sagging at the sight. Nathan didn’t even have breath for that.
There, ahead of them, wasn’t the caboose.
They stood in the rear of the engineer’s cab… at the very front of the train.
Smoky plumes of steam whipped by the open windows, but it didn’t hinder what Nathan saw before him. The familiar circular iron plate, the surface dimpled in a pattern of riveted seams. The accompanying assortment of gauges, dials, levers and hand wheels, all below a narrow collection of brass piping and blackened knobs. A ratty-looking coat hung from a peg. A shelf held a pair of dented mugs and a smudged oil can between them. A frayed seat, the cushion imprinted over the years by a sizeable ass, lay to the right. Above that, a lamp burned on a secured perch.
And right there, slowly turning about as if realizing he had company, was the enigmatic engineer. Nathan knew he’d heard the thing’s name, but he couldn’t remember. The engineer stood in front of the open portal to the fire box, where coal and wood fed the locomotive’s terrible hunger. The engineer’s smiling face was still devoid of flesh, and the nearby lamp colored his skeletal features a harsh orange.
Eli turned back to the door, to return through it, in an attempt to change the reality once again. Except the door was no longer there. Just the huge bin carrying the Majestic’s supply of wood and coal.
And ahead of the Majestic 311, the sun loomed. A great ravenous ball of fire that hurt the eyes to gaze upon. So enormous, in fact, that Nathan might’ve been standing in front of a mountain face and looking straight up to marvel at the sheer size of it. The heat was cringing, but as close as they were, they remained untouched by that death-dealing surface. The thunderous energy of the steam engine boomed within the cab, as if it were threatening to explode at any second.
The engineer watched them with black eye cavities, empty except for the little flickers of light deep within. Its smile was unrelenting. It made no move towards the two men, however. No threatening gestures. Instead, it merely stood to one side, its back partially blocking a window.
To the sides, mountains flashed by. And fresh air cut across their faces.
Cold mountain air.
“Nathan!” Eli Gallant cried out, saying Nathan’s full name for the first time ever. “Look! Those are mountains!”
They were indeed mountains, snow-capped and wintry, very much resembling the Rockies… but they were speeding by at a dangerous pace. To jump off the train would surely break one’s legs or snap one’s neck. Or worse.
“We gotta jump,” Eli shouted.
“We can’t jump!” Nathan shouted back, his eyes flicking to the sun, then to the watchful engineer, and finally to Eli, who was already at the edge of the cab, his free hand upon the metal wall.
“Sure as hell can!” Eli shouted. “Come on, before it’s too late.”
Too late? Nathan realized. It was already too late, and yet that damn pull was holding him fast, stronger than ever before, rooting him in place.
“There’s nowhere to jump!” Nathan roared.
“I’m going,” Eli roared back.
And Nathan knew he was.
The two men regarded each other for a fleeting second then, but on the Majestic 311, a second seemed to be as good as a year. And in that look, the thoughts, memories, and sentiments of a shared journey passed between the two train robbers, two men who might’ve once been enemies, but in the end had arrived at a mutual respect for each other.
Perhaps even a little bit of friendship.
Not one to dawdle, Eli broke the moment with a sorry frown and then turned away.
He leaped off the train and was gone from sight.
54
Eli landed on his back in a plume of white and stars and then darkness. The passing of the Majestic 311 briefly thundered in his ears before quickly receding. He opened his eyes, saw the night sky overhead, and felt the frigid embrace of a snow bank slowly penetrating his duster.
Eli sat up, sputtering, and looked around.
Clear night sky, the stars brilliant and blazing. Below them, the frost-tipped peaks of the Rockies, distant and yet radiant under the glow of a full moon. An ordinary moon.
“Holy shit,” Eli released, breathless, and rose to his feet. Cold air filled his lungs, and snow chilled his face as his scarf had long gone slack about his neck. He looked behind him and saw the black lines of the railway, going left and right.
But to his left was the disappearing rear end of the Majestic 311.
The caboose.
A lit lamp swung from its rear, and for a moment, a full second, something moved beside it as well. Then the 311 was gone from sight, bending around a curve and hidden by frosted hills. A ghostly hoot of its horn then, and all became quiet and cold.
The cold enveloped Eli then, and he shivered.
He was pretty sure that the figure was… of all things… that skeletal face of the bony sonavabitch running the train. But that couldn’t be right. Not at all.
Eli stood there, glanced over his shoulder, and saw the tunnel mouth some hundred feet back, where the whole gang had boarded the locomotive. Where all this twisted maddening foolishness had begun.
“I’m back,” he whispered, elated at the thought. “Jesus Christ Our Savior, I’m back.”
His hands went to his neck then, and he nearly squealed the happiness that spiked through him. The mail bags full of cash were still hanging about his neck. It wasn’t the full amount he’d wanted, but it was more than enough for him and…
Gilbert, he thought, and his happiness wilted just a little. Gilbert was gone, but Eli sure as hell intended to have a drink in his partner’s memory. Probably a bottle, at a right nice saloon where the people were people and the women were two-breasted.
There was a snapping of a whip, then, and a harsh force clutched him around the throat.
“Gurk!” was all Eli Gallant got out before an irresistible force hauled him back, pulling him off-balance. He tried turning as he stumbled and slogged through the deep snow, trying to see who was attacking him. Both hands grabbed onto the whip, but he couldn’t dig in to pull back. He tripped and fell flat on his chest. The whip ran from his neck, impossibly long, a good twenty feet or more back, to where a winter-clad rider reared his horse back on two legs.
A thunderbolt of horror struck Eli Gallant then, and he tried to whimper, but the whip about his throat yanked him to silence.
The horse was huge, black, and a creature born of night. Moonlight fluttered over the form, but the eyes were red and flaming, and the rider, decked out in a familiar winter duster, cackled a most evil laughter. That sound chilled Eli’s blood and bone marrow faster than any winter night in the freezing vastness of the Rockies.
Milton? Eli mentally asked when he couldn’t get the name out.
Milton Floss, Mackenzie’s mouthy cattle
buddy and the eighth and final partner of the ill-fated gang, left on the side of the tracks so long ago to watch over the horses. To guard their retreat when the time came.
It wasn’t Milton, however.
Not even close.
As if sensing his victim’s horrified confusion, the ghost rider reared back its horse once again. The beast’s forelegs kicked, flinging snow and stone into the night. Then it landed, and the rider, still laughing, danced the creature around.
Eli barely had time to realize what was happening before he was yanked entirely off his feet, but he saw where he was going, and the sight filled him with horrified despair.
The laughing horseman kicked, driving hellish spurs into the creature’s flanks. The monster took off, bearing the struggling weight of a man, charging back into the dark and terrible hole that was the tunnel mouth.
Dragging a kicking and twisting Eli Gallant behind it.
Until rider, horse, and gun runner entered that cursed tunnel and disappeared from sight.
The maddening laughter lingered, however, becoming weaker by the second, until only snow and rock and iron remained.
55
After Eli had jumped from the train, Nathan spared the gun runner only a second before looking back to the engineer and his spectral smile.
Nathan realized he still had his gun pointed at the creature. Knowing the weapon was useless against the apparition, he opened his duster and put the gun away.
The engineer watched him all the while.
Through a forward window, over the pipes and the gauges and other instruments Nathan had no understanding of, the sun had flooded the entire sky. A gigantic wall of shifting waves, bubbling curds, moving ripples and exploding stone drops. The heat blasted by his head, and squinted his eyes, but he didn’t burst into flames as he thought he would.
This train’s journey will soon end.
Seemingly pleased with the train robber’s decision, the engineer showed his back, checked his gauges, and placed a bony elbow upon the nearby windowsill. The ghost stuck his head out the window. There, the engineer’s haunting smile blazed, and it nodded eagerly at the immense light that was the sun.
Blinding.
Mesmerizing.
And the pull was stronger than ever, yet it no longer pulled Nathan forward. It kept him right in place and held his head fast. It kept his eyes open and wide, so that he could see… everything that would… become.
This train’s journey will soon end.
The words fluttered through his mind, but as the last word faded, Nathan wondered about Jimmy Norquay.
Jimmy’s pull had ended on that farm.
As the Majestic 311 charged into the face of the sun, where everything seemed to crystallize and shimmer as if running through a blizzard of stars, Nathan looked up, transfixed by the window that shuddered and shook as raw sunlight dissolved the very metal. More light pierced the cab of the Majestic, finding holes as small as pores and punching through, transforming the interior into a blinding web.
The engineer, with his maniacal grin still in place and his head still outside the window, reached up for a lever and cranked it.
The train’s steam whistle blasted overhead, jolting Nathan where he stood.
The sun…
This train’s journey will soon end.
And as those words petered out like before, as the light engulfed and dissolved the cab, the ghostly engineer, and even Nathan himself…
Nathan screamed.
And the world screamed with him.
56
“What’s wrong little fella?” a woman asked.
“Straps are too tight on him,” said a man.
A hand reached out and tugged on the harnesses keeping Nathan in place.
“Nope, seem fine to me,” the woman said, her expression dark with puzzlement—and all the more lovely because of it.
“Goddamn car seats,” the man said. “I’ll get a new one.”
“I don’t think it’s the car seat.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Is it the car seat, sweetie?” the woman asked, her face leaning out from around a mountain, except it wasn’t a mountain, but another car seat. A second face darted into sight from the other side, young and concerned, and meeting Nathan’s gaze for a fleeting instant.
The man smiled at him before turning away, disappearing behind a slab of upholstery.
The woman reached for Nathan and caressed his fat cheek. That simple contact alone summoned a smile.
“He’s smiling now,” the woman said.
“I smile too when you touch me like that,” the man said.
That drew a warning from her. “Watch yourself.”
“What? He can’t understand me. Be something if he could, being only five months old and all.”
The woman turned back to Nathan, traced the curve of his cheek down his chin and up the other side. She reached up then, pleased, and adjusted the hat on his head that kept him warm.
“You relax now, cutie,” she said to him and smiled. “You relax, my little man. We got about an hour to go before we get to grandma and grandpa’s house. Bet they’ll be so happy to see you. They can’t wait. Can’t wait.”
With that, she smiled again, touched his nose, and leaned back into her seat.
Allowing Nathan a wide look at the windshield, and the sun passing overhead, warm and glowing and high in the sky. He didn’t really know what the sun was, or the glass for that matter, or the intricate controls and displays of the SUV’s dashboard.
He didn’t care, either.
All he knew were the two faces of the people before him, just out of sight. And that, somehow, for reasons unknown, they loved him, and he loved them back.
That was enough for him to kick his little bare legs.
“Watch this,” his father said. He reached for the ceiling, where his fingers tickled the top.
The sunroof opened slowly, revealing more of a beautiful sky.
“Ohhh,” his mother said, glancing back at her baby boy, to make sure he was seeing what they were seeing.
He was.
His broad toothless smile conveyed exactly that.
And as the SUV snaked its way through the Rockies of Alberta, a little giggle passed through the mountainous expanse, and lasted a very, very long time.
The End.
Afterthoughts.
Those in the know will see my mistakes. For that, apologies all ‘round. Those mistakes are all on me. Especially regarding the Spirals. I had to adjust them to make the story work.
If you’re a history buff and interested in learning more about the beginnings of Canada’s railway system, or about the period in general, I’d recommend three books from historian Pierre Berton and his publisher, Anchor Canada:
“The National Dream: The Great Railway, 1871-1881”, Anchor Canada.
“The Last Spike: The Great Railway 1881-1885”, Anchor Canada.
“Klondike: The Last Great Gold Rush, 1896-1899,” Anchor Canada.
Special thanks to my editor, Peter Gaskin, for taking on the project when he did. He makes my words look good (no, really, he does). If you’re looking for an editor, contact him at [email protected].
As always, if you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review. They’re like gold.
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About the Author
Keith lives in Canada, on the island of
Newfoundland.
Try these other titles by Keith C. Blackmore:
Horror
Mountain Man: Prequel (Mountain Man Book 0)
The Hospital (*Free* Mountain Man short story)
Mountain Man
Safari (Mountain Man Book 2)
Hellifax (Mountain Man Book 3)
Well Fed (Mountain Man Book 4)
Make Me King (Mountain Man Book 5)
The Missing Boatman
Breeds
Breeds 2
Breeds 3
Cauldron Gristle (novella—contains Mountain Man short story “The Hospital”)
Private Property (novella)
Isosceles Moon (novella)
Isosceles Moon 2 (novella)
Heroic Fantasy
The Troll Hunter
White Sands, Red Steel
131 Days (Book 1)
131 Days: House of Pain (Book 2)
131 Days: Spikes and Edges (Book 3)
131 Days: About the Blood (Book 4)
131 Days: To Thunderous Applause (Book 5)
Science Fiction/Fantasy
The Bear That Fell from the Stars
Children’s
Flight of the Cookie Dough Mansion (a short story)
The Majestic 311 Page 40