The Eville Protection Plan

by Holand Peterson

  Chapter 24- Minor Problems

  Hammett worked his way toward the front of the train, squeezing past busy stewardesses and restless passengers stretching their legs. Aisles were spacious, with large seats and plenty of leg room for those who did not opt for a private cabin. It did not take long for the Cyclops to reach the head car, as this particular train happened to be relatively small in size, unsurprising for a luxury line catering to the wealthy and important. With a wave of his UEL badge, a door slid open and Hammett stepped into the cockpit.

  “Inspector.” The gray-haired captain nodded with a smile.

  “Just came to check on our progress, captain.”

  “We’re making good time. The shuttle is skirting the Mid Atlantic Ridge currently. In fact, I expect we’ll arrive at our destination a bit early.”

  “Good. Anything else to report?”

  “Not that you’d be interested in, no.”

  “Try me.”

  “Well, now that you mention it …. I doubt it’s anything to worry about … but if you must know … we are checking on a minor technical problem right now.”

  “How minor?”

  “Over the last half hour our carbon dioxide readings have unexpectedly risen. Nothing alarming. But if left unchecked everyone aboard would be inhaling less than acceptable air by the time we stopped. More than likely a blown fuse in the air circulation system. This damned company always cuts corners and has been settling for poor components to save ‘souls’ anywhere they can. We get the occasional electric surge … and … well …. I sent my copilot to look into it. Again, I don’t anticipate an issue as it’s an easy fix. And if we had to stop, there are plenty of way stations ahead.”

  “I need to arrive at headquarters as soon as possible. Stopping the train should be our very last resort.”

  “Of course, inspector. But, in the worst case scenario, the safety of my passengers shall come first and foremost. Even above your official UEL business if need be.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, sir. Givens left to investigate the issue a good while ago. Actually, he should have returned by now.”

  “Perhaps I should go check on his progress?”

  “That’s quite all right, inspector,” the captain laughed. “Givens is more than capable. Probably stopped to relieve himself or grab a drink. You go on back to your cabin and relax. You’re in good hands, sir. I assure you. If anything of concern comes up … which is highly unlikely … I’ll inform you immediately.”

  “Thank you.” Hammett nodded courteously and exited the cockpit.

  The Cyclops had no doubts that this seasoned captain and his copilot were more than capable, but that did not deter him from working his way back toward the rear of the train, en route to the engineering compartment. Until Necrosia was safely handed off to his superiors, he’d stick his nose into even the most insignificant of matters. And he didn’t give a damn how many toes were stepped on along the way.

  The engineering car came second to last on the train. Once more Hammett used his badge to gain entry and proceeded forward. The reverberating sounds of the electric motor were many times louder within. The air was hot and stuffy and the Cyclops grimaced as he inhaled. Floor to ceiling, the walls were lined in blinking lights, gauges and bundles of wire. Numerous cylinders, as tall and wide as a man, filled the majority of the floor space, each vibrating in unison. Hammett weaved his way around the cylinders, working farther back. “Givens? Givens, you in here?” The detective reached the far end of the compartment, but found no trace of the copilot.

  Back from the direction he first entered a loud sizzling sound burst forth and all lights in the compartment went out. A great shudder ran down the train from end to end. Instinctively, Hammett threw his back against the wall and drew his sidearm. He could see nothing in the absolute dark. He strained his ears, but the mechanical and electronic sounds of the compartment overwhelmed any other potential sounds. Before he could decide his next course of action, a series of red emergency lights lit up along the floor and ceiling, accompanied by an ear piercing siren. Hammett didn’t think, didn’t hesitate to consider the situation, but plowed forward as quickly as his legs would take him. Necrosia. He had to reach Necrosia. The Cyclops charged into the exit door, fully expecting to burst through into the next compartment, only to bounce back onto the floor. Someone had blocked it from the other side. There was no telling what injury he had just inflicted on himself. His momentum could have easily resulted in broken bones. But he felt no pain, rising to his feet, felt no sensation in his tired, sweating body. He couldn’t feel the brutal impact on his feet as he ferociously kicked at the door, screaming and cursing at the top of his lungs.

  The group had been happily visiting away in Fabio’s room when the lights abruptly went out and an alarming sound ricocheted through the cabin. Startled by the sudden darkness, passengers released frightened screams that echoed throughout the train. The screams were accompanied by the sounds of people falling, tripping, and objects crashing to the floor. Vega sprang to his feet and reached out toward Serene’s last known location.

  “I say! Watch where you’re putting your hands, Mr. Vega!”

  Before the emergency lights had come on, the Spaniard had already shoved the woman into the bathroom. Weapon in one hand, Vega scooped up Fabio, the closest to him, and tossed him in with Serene. Both Alex and Moody stared at the man for a moment, rooted in shock, as he frantically waved at them to rush into the small bathroom. Moody rose first and grabbed Alex by the hair, pulling him off his seat.

  “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

  Vega dramatically thrust his finger in front of his lips, and with a frighteningly concerned expression silenced their confused cries. Back against the wall, gun at the ready, he strained his eyes, moving from one corner of the suite to the next. His gaze jumped from location to location, searching for vents, panels, anything in addition to the door that could grant entry into the cabin.

  Alex clutched Moody’s shoulder in panic. His body shook from head to toe. His heart beat so hard he wondered if he might vomit. Turning to his hunchback companion, Alex looked into Moody’s green eyes. They were awash with fear. Breathing heavily, she placed her left hand atop Alex’s and squeezed tightly.

  A tremendous metallic, wrenching noise shuddered through the train, disrupting their balance. Serene toppled back into the bathtub, dragging Fabio with her, and Moody fell forward and hit her head on the bathroom doorframe.

  “Hunchy-flower!” the goblin croaked, his voice rising above the emergency siren.

  “I’m all right. I’m fine.” Moody’s eyes were dazed as Alex helped her to her feet. “Am … am I bleeding?” She gingerly pressed her stubby fingers against her forehead.

  Alex pulled her hand aside, examining the injury. Already a noticeable bruise had begun forming, but the skin did not appear to be broken. He shook his head vigorously, yet silently, and pulled her back and helped her sit down on the closed toilet seat. “Just … sit for a bit.”

  Vega afforded himself only a fraction of a second to turn his attention to his companions, just long enough to verify their relative safety, before renewing his unwavering guard. The train had begun gaining speed rapidly, floors and walls shaking so vigorously that he had to use one hand to clutch the bathroom doorframe to stay balanced.

  A voice broke out over the intercom, but between the wailing siren and deafening roar of the train it was difficult to make out the words. “Captain … emergency stop … ridge …safety harness.”

  Alex suddenly became aware of the fact that his eyes were watering and stinging, and that he wheezed with every breath. Then he saw it above his head, curling, twisting, smothering every surface. A cloud of smoke now lined the ceiling, growing steadily heavier, creeping down the walls like a living thing.

  “My final moments shall not be spent suffocating in a lavatory!” Serene coughed.

  “Fabio too beauties to die!”

&n
bsp; A thump. Then another, louder, stronger. Vega turned his gaze to the main cabin door as it shuddered. The Spaniard widened his legs, searching for the surest footing, and aimed his firearm towards the burgeoning door. Again and again the door was bashed, each blow weakening its structure.

  “Give me something!” Serene barked. “Anything! They’ll not take me alive!”

  Alex looked about frantically and reached for the wall-mounted towel rack. “Here! Take this!” To his surprise, the metal rod popped right off the wall with a strong tug. Serene stepped out of the tub, took the rack from Alex’s hands and positioned herself in front of her two assistants.

  With one heavy blow the cabin door fell inward, bringing with it a swirl of smoke. Vega held his breath, steadied his feet and aimed carefully down his weapon’s sights. But he did not fire. Hammett stood before them, sweating profusely.

  “Come on! Get out of here! Now!” The Cyclops motioned with his weapon frantically.

  Vega’s face did not reflect any relief at seeing his partner. Then, startling everyone, the Spaniard fired two quick shots towards the Cyclops. So close to his head were the shots that Hammett could feel the force of them brush against his face. Instinctively, Hammett threw himself to the ground. For a fraction of a second his mind whirled in shock and confusion. And then he understood. He felt a presence tumble over him and into the cabin. The smoke curled around her feet like coiling snakes as Luminita slipped into the cloud-flooded room. Still on the ground, Hammett fired into the haze where the woman had vanished.

  Eyes still focused down the sights of his weapon, Vega kicked one of the seats into the thick fog. The chair tumbled forward, swallowed by the smoke. A sharp hiss signaled that Vega’s kick had not been far off, and the Spaniard fired two more shots.

  “Get them out of here, damn it!” Hammett screamed, rising to his feet. “You have to—” A searing pain stopped the words in the Cyclops’ mouth. Luminita’s blade had emerged from the fog, carving a deep gash along the detective’s right cheek. But he saw her second swing coming. Raising his left arm, the assassin’s blade sliced into the detective’s large forearm, saving his throat from a fatal laceration. Three more deafening pops as Hammett discharged his weapon, and the shrill shriek that rose above the cacophony ensured that at least one shot hit its mark. “Take them to the front, damn it! Go! Go!”

  Vega did not hesitate. Reaching back he clutched Serene, who still tightly grasped the towel rod, by the arm and charged toward the exit, firing another shot into the smoke.

  “Go, you idiots!” Hammett’s words were so forceful that the others still in the bathroom sprung forward involuntarily, following in Vega’s wake. Hammett fired two more blind shots and then joined Fabio, the last to exit the cabin.

  Alex could hardly see anything. His eyes burned from the smoke. Every breath stung his lungs. Sparks sputtered from the walls and ceiling. Several small fires burned. Passengers frantically pushed to the head of the train, shoving people over. Others sat, strapped in their seats, crying, praying, screaming. The horrified cries bombarding his ears felt as though they clawed into his flesh. He had to get away. Had to get out. Couldn’t think in the overwhelming chaos. The walls, the passengers, everything closed in, suffocating him. Part of him wanted to curl into a ball and block everything out, to scream so loudly that the piercing siren, terrified screams and raging engine sounds would be drowned out. Somehow, despite it all, Alex pushed forward. He clutched Moody’s hand so tight that it hurt and focused his blurry eyes on Serene and Vega just ahead.

  “Keep moving!” Hammett yelled in the rear, pushing Fabio forward with one hand, his weapon aimed behind. “We have to—”

  Fabio’s squeal made them look behind. The goblin lay on the ground, looking back at Hammett. The Cyclops stood motionless, an almost confused look on his face. From his chest protruded a long, thin blade, an ever-widening circle of crimson surrounding it. Luminita stood behind him, her lips against the Cyclops’ ears. All could now clearly see the scar Moody had given her, a nasty, discolored stretch of sickly skin running from her left eye down to her chin. Vega stepped in front of Serene, his face overcome with horror. The Huldra assassin smiled back at the Spaniard, a cruel, sinister arch in her lips, and then slid her head behind Hammett’s before Vega could fire. Her victorious cackle sent a shudder down the spine of all who heard it.

  Everyone stood rooted in shock, all eyes on Hammett. The detective’s face was lined with pain and exhaustion, but not a hint of fear showed in his giant eye. For a brief moment Hammett looked at Serene, and then to Alex. To the young man it felt as though the Cyclops pierced straight through his core. Hammett’s gaze possessed calmness in stark contrast to the terror surrounding them. For the first time, Alex saw not the invincible, outrageous detective staring back, but the eye of a mortal, flesh and blood, a person with feelings, a genuine desire to protect those weaker than himself and stand up for what he believed in. Last of all, the detective turned to Vega, and all could see the affection of many years of friendship pass over his brown eye, a sense of pride in his brave partner. “It’s up … to you … now,” Hammett coughed, a drowning, gurgling sound mixed in his voice. He smiled, reached to his left, and placed his large, brown hand on a heavy lever under an emergency exit. Luminita shrieked, understanding the detective’s intent. She began to push herself away from the Cyclops, only to discover that he clutched her arm in an iron vice. In one motion the Cyclops wrenched the handle downward and with his last ounce of strength pushed his entire weight backward. His wide back shoved Luminita into the exit door, the foul creature screaming in explosive rage, clawing and stabbing at the Cyclops. And with a crack the entire panel flew off and disappeared into the tunnel. Hammett and Luminita were instantly sucked out of the racing train, the vile woman’s ear-shattering wail fading into the distance as their bodies hurled into the vast blackness behind.

  Alex wrapped his arms around a chair attached to the floor. The dissonance inside now reached a point that his ears felt as though they’d burst. The smoke had been sucked out of the train, clearing the air, but now it had become almost impossible to breathe. Every gasping breath burned his lungs, providing too little oxygen. What he had just witnessed couldn’t have been real. This wasn’t really happening. It wasn’t possible. Small items tumbled through the air, bouncing off walls and bodies as they were vacuumed out of the speeding train. His friends, Hammett included, were all fine. They had to be. He began to anxiously search for their locations, to affirm the truth of their safety. Close to the gaping hole Fabio squealed. The poor goblin’s body hovered off the floor, fighting the pull of the vacuum by clutching the leg of a terrified woman strapped into a chair. Behind, Alex saw Moody and Serene wedged behind a table of sorts, eyes shut tight, holding each other tightly. And then he saw Vega and understood that this was no nightmare from which to awaken, that he had not imagined this horror. The man stood in the aisle, his long hair swirling about wildly. The veins on his forehead protruded, while a stream of tears trickled down each side of his face. His mouth was open wide, screaming, and yet no sound could erupt from his broken heart.

  A legendary detective. Larger than life. Of equal parts brilliant and obnoxious. To a select few a good friend. For a great many a mortal enemy. Unquestionably a virtuous, honest man. Daniel Hammett proved himself to be all these things and then some. His final act as a UEL officer brought an end to one of the cruelest beings ever spawned. And now he was no more.

  Chapter 25- All I’ve Got

  Seconds, minutes, hours. The time that elapsed between the tragic end of Hammett and the realization that the train had stopped Alex could not guess. Everything was a daze, his body numb. Sounds no longer troubled his hearing; he felt neither pain nor comfort, cold nor heat. He sat in a silent, empty world, save for the vivid memory of Daniel Hammett gazing into his eyes, his very last moments of being full of pain, exhaustion, memory … and so much more that Alex couldn’t even put into words. Only a lengthy and vigorous shake from V
ega, his own eyes bloodshot, face haggard, brought Alex back to his senses. The Spaniard had to help the young man to his feet, and even then Alex couldn’t feel his legs, didn’t seem to have control of his steps. He merely witnessed his body clumsily clamber out of the train through the nearby emergency exit.

  While Andresholl Station provided both beauty and comfort, the location the train had come to a full stop at served only to facilitate industry. A wide, open platform, covered in dirt, smog and grease stretched out for hundreds of yards. Crates, barrels, large bundles and the like were piled high all about, containing a vast array of goods from around the globe. Machines similar to forklifts were parked near the enormous crates, used to transport the crates from one end of the platform to the other. Alex discovered that the train he stepped out of was not the only transport here, as many other cargo trains were docked along the platform, receiving and delivering product en route to their next stop.

  All work on the platform had naturally come to a screeching halt with the arrival of the passenger train. The male and female workers scrambled to assist the frightened and injured folk out of the sparking, burning vehicle and onto the platform. Additionally, several monstrous creatures assisted the effort by moving cargo about, creating an open space for the passengers to rest. These leathery beings, more than eight feet tall, happened to be trolls. Massive, muscular and unusually lengthy arms hung from their sides so low that their knuckles dragged along the ground as they walked. Thick overalls covered their hairless bodies and with squat, tree trunk legs they slowly, methodically moved about, pushing and shoving the incredible weight.