by Barry Reese
Max blinked in surprise. “Why are you telling me this? You have to realize you’ve given me plenty of time to stop you. The Nashville train won’t even reach Atlanta until nearly ten o’clock.”
“I tell you this because I want to give you one opportunity to succeed. If you accomplish your task, I will be most saddened… but respectful… when I kill you later. If you fail, then you have lost all honor and I will kill you with glee.”
“You’re insane.”
“I am practical.”
Max started to lunge for the Warlike Manchu but a wave of nausea hit him and he staggered, his back coming to rest against the wall.
The Warlike Manchu remained where he was, watching as the Peregrine slowly slid to the floor. “I released an airborne toxin upon entering your home. I am, of course, quite immune to it. You will awaken with little time to spare this evening. Look for the place where we will most likely board the train and attempt to perform your usual heroics. This should prove most amusing, I would think.”
Max coughed, rolling over onto his stomach so that he could crawl towards the hall. He reached it with great effort, seeing that Nettie was lying face down halfway towards the kitchen. “I’ll stop you,” he whispered, as the Warlike Manchu stepped over him and exited the house.
CHAPTER VII
Terror Train!
Ben Gallagher had worked on the railroad for over twenty years and he loved his job. A slightly pot-bellied, genial fellow, Ben strolled from one end of the passenger car to the other, taking tickets and ensuring that everyone had a pleasant stay while on board. He liked to think he was good at the job but tonight he’d met his match when it came to dealing with surly passengers.
Kenneth Harvick was the source of Ben Gallagher’s confusion. The thin-faced little man had demanded to have a car all to himself, despite the fact that his ticket allowed for other passengers to ride with him. Ben had done his best to placate the man but to no avail. In the end, Harvick had returned to his cabin, clutching a small bag to his chest. Ben had offered to help put the bag into the overhead compartment but Harvick’s snarling refusal had left him flabbergasted.
It takes all kinds, Ben mused. And given the European accent that Mr. Harvick has, I can’t blame him for being a little tense. Things are going so rough in that part of the world… those damned Nazis are going to—
An unusual feeling crept over Ben’s spine and he stopped in place as he made his rounds. The dining car was usually empty at this time of night but there was a group of four men standing together at the rear of the hall, near the door that connected to the adjacent car. Ben usually had a good memory for things like faces and clothing, but he couldn’t recall anyone onboard dressed like these fellows. Each of them wore hooded robes that were a dark gray in color, with gauzed-covered hands protruding from under the sleeves.
“Excuse me, fellows,” Ben said, moving forward. This trip had already been an odd one and he had the feeling it was only going to become more so. “But I’m going to have to ask to see your tickets.”
The nearest of the men turned with a hiss that sounded like a cornered cat. His face was heavily lined and sunken-featured, as if all the water had been drained from it. Up close, Ben could smell the stench of the grave from him. “Prepare to meet your gods,” the man whispered, reaching out a hand to clutch at Ben’s neck.
* * *
The Peregrine piloted his helicopter low over the moving train, unstrapping himself so that he could move towards the open door. A small mechanized device would serve as the autopilot in his absence, with orders to keep pace with the train. Anything more sophisticated—such as evading an enemy—would be beyond the device’s capabilities, but the Peregrine hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary.
Max seethed inwardly, still furious that he had been bested so easily by his old teacher. Both he and Nettie had been found by Josh within a few moments of falling unconscious but nothing could rouse them from their drug-induced slumber until nature took its course. By then, Evelyn was beside herself with worry and the Warlike Manchu had worked for hours on his nocturnal plans.
The Peregrine pulled his cloak tight against his body as he leaned out of the moving helicopter. He was flying as low as he dared but it would still be a risky move… girding his loins, he threw himself from the helicopter, coiling himself into a tight ball for acceleration before throwing his arms and legs open wide for impact. He landed in a roll, coming to a stop perilously close to the edge of the car’s top. He held on for dear life and finally released his grip when he felt comfortable enough to attempt movement. He slid across the surface of the train until he came to a spot where he could swing down and land on the narrow walkway between cars.
The Peregrine slowly opened the door, peering inside. He was in one of the passenger cars but saw no one in the hall. All the doors leading to the passengers’ rooms were closed, and the porters were obviously off taking care of other business, so the Peregrine slipped inside and moved stealthily down the passage, checking door numbers as he went. A careful examination of train records—courtesy of a bedridden McKenzie—had allowed Max to figure out that the man he sought was staying in berth 17-B. Max silently thanked the gods that he’d ended up on the right car by chance. Given how long he’d been delayed in taking action, he was fearful that the Warlike Manchu had sped up his own timetable and already made off with the Abomination’s brain.
When he came to the right room, Max was disturbed to see that the door gave indications of having experienced a forced entry. The area around the handle was cracked, despite being built of steel. The Peregrine drew one of his specially modified pistols and pushed the door open gently. He felt secure going into any kind of battle with the gun in his hand, for it could reel off several dozen shots without need for reloading, and each of the bullets was encased in pure silver.
Inside the car, Max came face-to-face with four creatures from out of a nightmare: shriveled husks of men cloaked in gray garments that left them looking like Egyptian mummies with exposed faces. They stood over the crumpled form of Kenneth Harvick, one of them pawing a small box that the Peregrine knew contained the final component of the Warlike Manchu’s awful plan.
To Max’s surprise, the one holding the box was capable of speech. The few animated undead that the Peregrine had encountered during his career had been able only to grunt or moan unintelligibly. “So, Atlanta’s resident mystery man has shown his masked face,” the zombie whispered harshly. The thing gestured to the other three. “Kill him.”
The Peregrine didn’t wait for them to respond. He discharged his pistol, death shooting from the barrel of the gun like lightning. The bullet struck home, embedding itself deep between the eyes of the zombie. A small gush of a blackish-red fluid jetted from the wound and then the creature went down to the floor, flopping like a fish on dry land.
One of the others struck during this time, flailing out his stiff limbs until one of them slammed into the side of Max’s head. The vigilante saw stars for a moment but regained his footing enough to dodge a second blow. He fired again, point-blank, into the monster’s midsection and a chunk of flesh and gore rocketed outwards as the bullet passed through the body. Max drew his golden dagger and stabbed it into the thing’s neck. As the third reanimated creature shambled forward, the Peregrine jumped into the air, nimbly vaulting over his attacker. He landed just behind the creature and stabbed back with his blade. The knife, potent against all things magical, cut right through the flesh and bone.
The Peregrine then turned to the last of his foes, the obvious leader of the group. The creature was backed up against the far wall, the box containing the brain clutched tightly in its grip. “Give it up,” Max warned, sheathing his knife and pointing the gun at his foe. “If there’s any way to help you in your current condition, I’ll try to do it.”
Outside in the hallway, a commotion had sprung up as men and women responded to the sounds of gunfire. Several of the braver men peered inside and then backed away qu
ickly as they saw the multiple bodies on the floor.
“There’s no need to ‘help’ me, Peregrine,” the monster replied. “I am more than fine. In fact, my armies of servants are going to help me finally gain the power I deserve! This shell you observe now is but the merest expression of my abilities!”
Max blinked at the thing’s words for they implied that this creature was being spoken through, that he was being used as a mouthpiece for some more malevolent force. Keeping in mind what Benson had told him, he jumped to the logical conclusion and voiced his thoughts. “You’re Ibis, aren’t you? The one who works for the Warlike Manchu?”
“I don’t work for that buffoon! I am my own master!”
“Odd. That’s not the way he described it.”
The animated monster snarled, tossing aside the box so that it bounced off the seating unit. He lunged for the Peregrine and the two men went to the ground, landing atop one of the sprawled corpses. The Peregrine was surprised by the thing’s strength but he managed to get the barrel of his gun under the creature’s chin. He fired the weapon, causing the back of the thing’s head to explode outwards.
Max moved slightly so that his glowing signet ring could press against what remained of the monster’s skull. He hissed out the words that had become his recent mantra: “When the good is swallowed by the dark, there the Peregrine shall plant his Mark!”
After the deed was done and the Peregrine began pushing the body off of himself, he heard a harsh voice from the doorway. “Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!” someone commanded.
Max saw one of the porters was brandishing a small pistol, holding it in a shaking hand. The Peregrine stood slowly, snatching up the box in a fluid movement. He rushed the door, sending the porter scrambling back in surprise and fright. “Sorry, friend—but I have someplace I have to be!” he yelled after himself. He ran down the hall, not fearful of being shot as he fled—the porter would never dare discharge the weapon with so many passengers on the scene. One or two of the men looked like they were ready to slow the Peregrine’s progress, but a steely-eyed gaze from the vigilante caused all to reconsider that course of action.
The Peregrine made it back outside, crawling to the roof of the train car. Once there, he pulled out a small radio transmitter that ordered the helicopter to land nearby. He would have to jump from the train and make his way to it but there was no other way to return to his escape vehicle.
Before he could do so, a stinging pain in his neck made him slap a hand up to the source of the discomfort. His fingers came away with a small feathered dart, one that had been embedded in his neck. “Not again,” he murmured, even as dizziness threatened to overtake him. He swayed on the moving rooftop before falling over onto his back, the box lying beside him.
Mr. Li crept forward, a blow gun in his hand. He knelt and retrieved the box, a smile on his handsome face. Into a small, almost invisible communications device he whispered “I have him, my master. Both the Peregrine and the Abomination are ours!”
CHAPTER VIII
Truth and Consequences
McKenzie sat propped up in bed, his handsome face broken into a heart stopping grin. The pretty young nurse who was tending to him during his hospital stare blushed under his gaze, picking up his dinner tray. “You certainly have quite an appetite, Chief.”
McKenzie chuckled. “You have no idea… Macy, is it?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, reaching up to push a lock of blonde hair behind an ear. She was about to offer up a suggestion that they go out for a soda after his release—which was far from her usual behavior around men—when a soft knock came from the doorway, making Macy jump.
Evelyn stood there, looking gorgeous in a green blouse and tan slacks. Her auburn hair was pulled back from her shoulders, revealing the slender length of her neck. She wore a bemused expression on her lips. “Sorry. Am I interrupting anything?”
The nurse shook her head in embarrassment, sliding past Evelyn. “Of course not, Miss. I was just heading out.” She cast one last longing glance at McKenzie, who winked at her.
“You’re robbing the cradle, aren’t you?” Evelyn chided, moving closer to the bed. “She can’t be more than nineteen, if she’s a day.”
“She says she’s twenty three—she is a nurse, you know.”
“You can get your nursing degree fast these days. There’s a shortage because of all the unease overseas.” Evelyn shrugged, moving away from the subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Great. Doc says I’ll be released in the morning. How about you? Feeling the baby kick yet?”
Evelyn put a hand on her stomach. “I feel a few flutters… but I’m not sure if it’s kicking or just nerves.”
“Where’s Max?”
“He didn’t come home last night,” Evelyn said, trying hard not to show her concern. She failed miserably, though, and McKenzie surprised her by reaching and taking her hand.
“He’ll be fine,” he said soothingly.
“I’m worried about him,” she admitted. “Not just this mission… the whole thing with wearing that ring. Using it to brand people like they were cattle… and that weird thing he says when he does it! Where in the heck did that come from?”
“Something happened to him when he fought whathisname,” McKenzie agreed. “But he’s still the same guy you fell in love with. He’s a good one.”
Evelyn smiled. “What did either he or I do to deserve a friend like you?”
“I’m a real ray of sunshine, aren’t I?” he agreed, laughing aloud. “Listen, if he hasn’t come back by the time I’m out of here tomorrow, I’ll help you look for him.”
Evelyn pursed her lips. “I hope I won’t have to take you up on that.”
CHAPTER IX
Tortured!
The Peregrine woke slowly, his head throbbing painfully. Without fully opening his eyes, he took stock of his current situation, feeling the tight bonds that suspended him spread-eagled off the floor. His weapons were gone, even the ones that were normally hidden on his person, and his pistols lay on a table on the far side of the room. A mild buzzing in the back of his brain told him that he’d been injected with some sort of drug meant to slow his thinking process, inhibiting his mental abilities.
The room was a large one but held little in the way of furnishings. A large Oriental rug hung on one wall, depicting a rampant dragon, while on the floor lay a yellow-and-gold mosaic. Two tables, one on either side of Max’s body, held various implements of torture: pliers, knives, pokers and a burning brazier full of hot coals.
The smell of expensive cologne hit his nostrils as a thin, handsome Asian entered the room. He wore a finely-cut suit and had his hair slicked back from his prominent forehead. The stranger stopped just in front of the Peregrine and bowed low. “There is no need for such dramatics, Mr. Davies. I am quite aware that you are awake. I am Mr. Li.”
Max opened his eyes but did not return the greeting. He watched as Li moved to the closest of the tables, stirring the coals. When the Peregrine finally did speak, his words were cold and clipped. “Where’s Manchu? Tell him I want to see him.”
“My master will be along shortly,” Li replied. “In the meantime, he wishes me to test your limits of endurance. He says you were his greatest pupil.” Li looked up at Max then, a hint of malice in his expression. “I had always hoped that I would be the bearer of that particular honor.”
Max strained to activate the mental powers that had served him so well in the past but the drugs in his system were still too potent. Resigning himself to the fact that his freedom would have to come through other means, he locked eyes with his would-be tormentor and said “I know he can be very compelling… it’s easy to fall under that man’s spell. But he doesn’t care about you. In the end, he’ll discard you just like he has every other person in his life.”
“Perhaps,” Li agreed, using a pair of tongs to lift up a piece of hot coal. He moved towards Max, using one hand to tear away the hero’s shirt. When Max’
s bare chest had been revealed, Li paused to study his prey’s skin for a moment. Max’s body was covered in scars, mementos from a score of harrowing battles, but there was no hiding the rippling muscles and healthy tone of his body. Li seemed appreciative, licking his lips in anticipation. “You and I are quite different, Mr. Davies.” Li brought the hot coal close to Max’s right nipple, making the Peregrine instinctively angle his body in an attempt to avoid the contact. “Whereas you are a physical man, reacting first with your fists and then with your mind… I am a being who covets intelligence above all else. Though I am trained in the arts of combat, it is never my first inclination… but if you were to find yourself suddenly free to move there is no doubt in my mind that you would waste no time in striking me down. You enjoy inflicting pain, do you not?”
“No. I don’t.” Max gritted his teeth as Li shoved the coal against his flesh. The sizzling sound melded together with the scent of burning flesh, making his already buzzing head even worse.
“Ah, says the man who brands his victims like cattle,” Li laughed softly. “Pardon me for not believing you.” Li repeated the application of the coal twice more, leaving horrible burns along Max’s chest. Then he set the tongs aside and picked up a small knife. The sight of it made the clouds of pain part slightly in the Peregrine’s brain. His golden dagger had been amongst the weapons he’d had on his person… it was across the room now, piled with the pistols and capsules that Li had removed from his person. According to the things he’d learned, the dagger was the sacred Knife of Elohim, a weapon that was reputed to have been soaked in the blood of Christ. This gave the blade special properties against evil and also protected it wielder under the grace of God.