“I understand that, Yakov, but we have to risk it now. Our people in Texas, they’re getting the shit kicked out of them by the drones. We need that weapon, whatever it is they are hiding up there in Churchill, we need to get it right now. If we don’t…thousands of people will be killed and everything we’ve been fighting for will be lost. Not just in Texas – everywhere.”
Bear had stepped from the locomotive cab and stood next to Mac.
“Are they coming for Alaska, Mac? The drones?”
Mac nodded at Bear’s question, though his eyes remained locked on the Russian.
Yakov looked back at Mac, and then each one of the others, and then glanced over to his train.
“Ok, we go. Like you want to, we go as fast as possible. I can do this. I will push her fast. You want to take that risk, then that is what I will do. We are almost ready. Ten more minutes then we go.”
Mac extended his right hand toward the Russian, who engulfed it in his own.
“Thank you, Yakov. Do your best. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
Mac and the others returned to the passenger car while Yakov and Bear finalized preparations to get the train moving. Within minutes, the wheels of the locomotive were slowly turning as the now familiar clouds of dark smoke belched from the great machine’s smoke stack.
Hearing the train’s movements, several sets of dark eyes turned toward the direction of the sound, as mouths opened wide to emit a piercing shriek, communicating to the others that the targets had been found. Dark bodies bolted forward down the train tracks as they collectively realized how close they now were to their prey.
The seekers were once again coming.
XLIII.
Brando’s head snapped up off of the floor, his lips pulled back in a snarl. Cooper Wyse’s right hand instinctively went to one of his two Colt revolvers as he looked down at the Doberman and then toward the back of the passenger car where the dog’s eyes were locked.
Reese and Dublin had already noticed Brando’s warning growl as well, and were walking slowly toward the back of the train, their eyes straining to see any sign of approaching trouble. Mac followed directly behind them, his M16 held in his hands.
“Anyone see anything?”
Both Dublin and Reese shook their heads. The track behind them was clear.
Cooper Wyse was not looking to the back of the train though. His eyes were now scanning the trees that lined both sides of the tracks.
“If something is gonna come at us, they’ll use the trees for cover. They could be right on top of us before we’d be able to see them.”
The train’s speed was not yet twenty miles an hour. Mac grabbed one of the handheld communicators and attempted to call Bear.
“Bear – can you hear me?”
There was no response. Mac repeated the attempt.
“Bear – this is Mac. Come in.”
In the locomotive cab, Bear was shoveling yet more coal into the firebox as Yakov adjusted the water settings, attempting to create as much steam power as quickly as possible without causing catastrophic failure to the entire system. Both the noise and the heat inside the cab were considerable.
Bear paused, thinking he had heard his name being called. He looked up at the Russian, seeing if it was Yakov who had said something.
“You call my name?”
The Russian glanced quickly down at Bear and shook his head.
Mac made a third attempt to reach Bear as Brando’s growling snarls increased in volume.
“Bear! Pick up your communicator! Come in Bear!”
This time Bear was certain he heard his name being called from somewhere. Finally he realized it was from the communicator he had placed in the back of his pants pocket.
“Yeah, Mac! You got to speak loud – it’s noisy up here! I can hardly hear you!”
Mac shouted into his communicator back at Bear.
“I’m pretty sure we got company! Could be those seekers again! We need this train moving fast!”
The Russian, able to hear Mac’s words, began nodding his head repeatedly as he continued to adjust the water settings.
“Yes! Go fast! I already tell him I am doing that! Yakov cannot change physics! Train is going as fast as train can go!”
Bear shouted back at Mac.
“We’re doing all we can up here Mac! In another ten minutes we should be hitting about thirty miles an hour, and then we hope to be going double that speed soon after that!”
Two loud bumps came from above Mac’s head. Something was on the passenger car’s roof.
“There!”
Cooper Wyse was pointing into the woods at the back right of the train. Three seekers broke from the tree-line and were preparing to jump onto the rear platform of the passenger car. Brando’s sharp canine teeth snapped shut several times as he unleashed a barrage of increasingly aggressive barks.
Another series of bumps were heard from the top of the train car.
Mac glanced upward, his mind racing to assess the situation and develop an adequate response strategy.
“Cooper, take the door in the back. Don’t fire unless you have a shot. We can’t waste any ammunition. Dublin and Reese, I want you two in the very middle of the car here. One of you watch the left side, the other the right. I’ll be at the front of the car doing the same thing.”
Mac again spoke into his communicator.
“Bear! We have confirmation of seekers! They are on the outside of the passenger car! On the roof! Some of them may be attempting to make their way to the front of the train!”
Bear dropped the shovel and leaned out the right side of the locomotive’s cab to look for any sign of the seekers. If they were on the train, he was unable to see them. Yakov was cursing loudly in Russian, slamming his hand down onto the engine’s metal control panel.
“Ok! Ok! Enough of this shit! You! Go out and take them off of my train!”
Bear looked back at the Russian, his jaw dropping at the order.
“You want me to go out there – onto the roof?”
Yakov pointed behind him.
“Yes! Climb out of here and take care of it! Simple!”
Bear shook his head.
“No way Yakov. We’re doing almost thirty miles an hour! No way I’m going out there! I’ll fall off!”
The Russian looked back to the control console and released yet more water into the boiler, causing the engine to groan under the strain as the train lurched forward at an increased speed. Satisfied the controls were set enough to allow his temporary absence from the locomotive, Yakov began to climb outside to make his way toward the passenger car, a huge knife clenched between his teeth. Bear reached out to grab the Russian’s left arm.
“Yakov! You can’t go out there! You have to drive the train!”
The Russian poked his head back into the cab, removing the knife from his mouth as he did so.
“Train drive itself! You too afraid to take care of seekers, then I do it! Stay here!”
Returning the knife to his mouth, Yakov moved quickly to the back of the locomotive and then onto the passenger car, grabbed a handhold, and easily pulled himself up onto the roof. He braced himself against the wind that pummeled his back as he looked downward and was greeted by a sight that caused even the Russian to draw a sharp breath inward.
XLIV.
Ten seekers crawled toward Yakov, their bodies pressed against the roof of the passenger car. Their mouths hung open as their heads began to move up and down excitedly at the sight and smell of the Russian crouched just twenty feet away.
Taking the knife from his mouth and gripping it tightly in his right hand, Yakov’s eyes narrowed as he tried to determine which of the two seekers closest to him would likely pounce first.
“You ugly things get off my fucking train!”
Inside the passenger car, Mac and the others heard the unmistakable voice of the Russian shouting from above them. Reese was already moving toward the rear exit door, one of the remaining shotg
uns in his hands. Cooper cut him off right before Reese reached the door, the rancher’s right hand resting on the barrel of the shotgun.
“That won’t work up there. You could just as easily end up shooting Yakov while trying to hit the seekers. Too wide of a spread unless you can get real close. You’re better off keeping that thing ready in case any of those things try to get inside here.”
Reese looked over to Mac.
“He’s right, Reese, that’s the wrong kind of weapon for what you need to do up there.”
The Russian was again yelling from above them.
“Then what’s the right weapon, Mac?”
Mac pointed to Cooper.
“He’s got the guns for the job. Let him go.”
Cooper Wyse removed his cowboy hat and placed it carefully on the seat closest to the exit.
“Be right back for that.”
The rancher opened the passenger car door and began climbing up toward the roof, his right hand holding one of the Colt pistols. The second revolver remained holstered on his left hip.
The seeker to the Russian’s left lunged first, its wide mouth letting out a high pitched hissing growl as its body catapulted itself against the force of the wind blowing back against it. Yakov leaned to his right as his left hand shot out to grab the seeker’s throat. He had intended to sink the large blade into the seeker’s back, but found the momentum of his right arm halted as another seeker’s jaws clamped down tightly on his forearm, its rows of sharp teeth cutting through his heavy winter jacket and into his flesh.
The Russian screamed, first in shock and pain, and then in rage. Yakov’s eyes glanced forward to see two more seekers preparing to lunge toward him as his instincts told him there were simply too many to overcome. He was going to die.
“Ok, then! I die today! But I don’t die easy!”
The Russian jerked his right arm upward, lifting the seeker’s body entirely off the passenger train roof. He then slammed it downward with as much force as his considerable strength could create, causing the temporarily stunned seeker to release its bite on his arm. Yakov managed to maintain his grip on the knife, which he plunged deeply into the seeker’s chest.
The other seeker that remained in the grip of the Russian’s left hand grabbed a handful of Yakov’s beard in its talon-tipped fingers, ripping a large chunk of hair from his face. The pain from that was worse than the biting wound to his forearm. The Russian screamed again as he brought the knife into the shoulder area of the seeker, causing the creature to let out a piercing shriek as it lurched backwards, ripping the knife from Yakov’s grip.
Sensing the Russian was without a weapon, the other two seekers that had been preparing to join the fight chose that moment to do so, both of their bodies flying toward Yakov, their inhumanly wide mouths open and snarling, their dark eyes burning with anticipation of the kill.
Yakov dove against the roof, hoping the creatures would pass over him. He sensed rather than felt a large figure rise up from behind him, and then heard the crunching impact of the seekers slamming into something – or someone.
Bear caught both seekers, one on top of each of his massive shoulders. He could feel their claws digging into his back as he pushed his momentum forward and then down, slamming the monsters so hard against the steel roofed train he both heard and felt their spines simultaneously snap in several places.
Six more seekers remained atop the train, slowly making their way toward Bear and the Russian. Yakov had regained his feet and crouched just behind Bear, who glared back at the remaining seekers.
“What do we do now?”
Yakov considered Bear’s question, soon realizing he had but one answer.
“We fight.”
A loud whistle sounded from behind the seekers, causing them to halt their movement toward the Russian and Bear as they looked behind them. At the far end of the passenger car’s roof stood Cooper Wyse, his feet spread wide, a Colt revolver in each of his hands as the wind whipped the lower portion of his jacket behind him.
This time the seekers did not pause in their attack. All six came at Cooper as one, with frightening speed as their bodies sped along the train roof toward him.
Coop Wyse’s guns proved quicker – much quicker.
Six shots rang out, three from each revolver. Four seekers stumbled and then fell from the train roof. The other two, though injured and somewhat slower, continued to move toward the rancher. As the seekers leaped in the air, their clawed hands extended outward, Cooper dropped to his knees and with both barrels pointed in front of him, fired off two more rounds. Both bullets found their mark, entering the front skull of a seeker and exiting out the back in a considerable spray of blood, bone, and brain matter.
Standing back up, the rancher took a moment to twirl both guns in each hand several times before returning them to their respective holsters and making his way back down the side of the train and into the passenger car.
So impressed was he with Cooper Wyse’s display, Yakov pointed a finger at the departing rancher while looking back at Bear, a wide grin breaking out across the Russian’s now only partially bearded and bleeding face.
“Oh – you see that? That was good! Like in the old movies! A real cowboy!”
Even as he made his way back into the cab of the locomotive the Russian was voicing his continued amazement.
“A real cowboy! Bang! Bang!”
Bear looked back at Yakov.
“Hey, what about me? I took care of two of those things. And without a weapon!”
The Russian appeared to consider Bear’s words, but then waived him away.
“You did good…but not a cowboy! Bang! Bang! That was good! Very impressive!”
The train was moving at nearly forty miles an hour. Just a mile behind its location, nearly seventy seekers followed the train’s path, pausing only briefly to inhale the death scent of the ten seeker bodies that lay strewn along the tracks. The largest of the seekers, the same one that had first followed the Dominatus survivors to the Wyse Ranch in Alaska, unleashed a furious howling scream as it began bounding down the middle of the rail lines, its speed almost matching that of the departing train.
XLV.
“So good to see you again, Mac.”
Alexander Meyer’s voice was much stronger than Mac remembered it. The Old Man looked less…old. More like he appeared to Mac when they first met over twenty years ago, upon Mac’s arrival at Dominatus following his release from prison.
“Hello, Mr. Meyer. I’ve missed the hell out of you.”
They were sitting at a table in Mac’s own Freedom Tavern, the home and business where Mac later explained to Reese he spent the happiest and most gratifying years of his life. A familiar, swirling, rich smelling cloud of cigar smoke hung over the Old Man as his kind eyes looked back at Mac with open appreciation.
“I know you have, Mac.”
Over the years, and in his interview with Reese just days before the drone bombing of Dominatus, Mac Walker had explained it was Alexander Meyer who had saved his life. The Old Man had given Mac the opportunity to live in Dominatus away from the oppressive mandates of the New United Nations, away from the political operatives of the Consul who would wish to have his knowledge of the events in Benghazi permanently silenced.
Mac arrived in Dominatus still enraged over his treatment at the hands of his own government, the false charges of race-motivated murder, followed by years of imprisonment – a seemingly limitless supply of resentment and distrust of all things had been built up inside the former Navy SEAL. Alexander Meyer had taken that broken and fractured man who Mackenzie Walker once was, and over time, gave him back both purpose and self respect, a gift Mac remained eternally grateful for.
“I’m dying, Mr. Meyer. That day in the snow, just outside my tavern here in Dominatus, August Hess injected me with a cancer. It’s killing me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m so weak now. Can’t hardly breathe, always tired. My thoughts get…fogged up. I hate being th
is weak. I hate other people looking at me with pity in their eyes.”
The Old Man’s brow furrowed as he took a long draw from his cigar, the smoke momentarily hiding much of his face.
“You’re getting a taste of how I felt, Mac – for years! It’s not so bad having people worry over you, is it? You must have done something right for them to do so. I can recall you looking over at me with pity many times young man, especially in the last few years of my own life.”
Mac had to smile at being addressed as a young man.
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