Railroad! Collection 3 (The Three Volume Ombinus)

by Tonia Brown

  “Incoming!” Dodger shouted over her worry, and gave the gal a swift shove.

  “I’m not ready!” Sarah yelled in a squeal of surprise.

  She zipped down the line in a flash, coming to rest in the outstretched arms of her waiting knight. With a flick of his blade, Sir Rodger quickly detached her from the line and she all but leapt atop of him, latching onto his neck as the sounds of weeping drifted across the gap. The knight cradled her to him, as he carried her away from the edge of the chasm.

  “That was kind of dirty,” Boon said with a grin.

  “You teach a kid to swim by pushing him in the lake,” Dodger said. “Same principle.”

  Lelanea snorted. “Remind me to warn your children to steer clear of bodies of water. And large canyons.”

  “Who’s next?” Dodger asked.

  Lelanea and Boon looked to one another, neither of them eager to take the plunge.

  ****

  back to toc

  ****

  Chapter Twelve

  Shoulder the Burden

  In which Dodger shares a secret

  The pair continued to stare at one another, not saying a thing.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Dodger said. “Hand me the extra equipment while you two are thinking about it. We can send it first.”

  “Good thinking,” Boon said, and set to fetching the various sacks and bags tied to the knight’s horse.

  Dodger sent only the essentials across, reserving as much rope as he could for the remaining folks. Sir Rodger and Sarah unloaded each parcel in turn, and before too long it was time for the others to take a slide.

  “Either of you ready now?” Dodger asked.

  “I suppose I am,” she said and hopped onto the platform.

  “I can go if you want me to,” Boon said.

  “I will go,” Lelanea said. “Ladies first, after all.”

  “Right. Ladies first.”

  Dodger leaned into Lelanea and whispered, “I think I can work a rig for you, so you don’t have to hang by your jaw.”

  “Can you?” She lowered her head to Dodger and said softly, “I must admit, I don’t really think I can make it across by the skin of my teeth.”

  Dodger smirked. “I’ll see if we can’t make a quick harness for you.”

  “What are y’all whispering about?” Boon asked.

  “Nothing,” Dodger said. “You go strip Henrietta of her saddle and brush her down. We can’t leave the poor thing tied up ready to ride if no one’s gonna ride her any time soon.”

  “But she’s just a dream horse. Does it matter?”

  “Just do it.”

  “All right.” Boon slumped away to tend to the mare.

  While Boon was distracted by his duties with the horse, Dodger cut away a bit of canvas from one of the abandoned bed rolls, quickly bore a few holes into the thing, then wrapped it around Lelanea’s waist. He threaded the rope through the holes, taking care not to let his hands linger in one place too long.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  “As I am going to get,” she said. Lelanea wheezed between Dodger tightening the laces. “Oof, it’s rather like a corset, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what I had in mind.”

  “I’m surprised you know how to tie one on. I would’ve thought you have more experience ripping them off.”

  “What can I say? I am a man of many talents.” Dodger yanked on the rope, causing the wolf to wheeze once more.

  “I’ll say. Why is it whenever the two of us get together there is always some form of bondage involved?”

  “I can’t answer that on account.”

  “Account?”

  “On account you’re a lady, and the reasons in my mind are far too rude.” Dodger tossed the rest of the rope over the line, giving her plenty of headroom as he tied her onto the ropeslide.

  Lelanea laughed softly, until her laughter stopped short. “Hang on now. Did you just use the last of the rope?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then how will you and Boon get across?”

  “We will manage. Don’t you worry. Ready?”

  “No. I refuse to go across until you tell me how you and Boon plan on crossing.” She wiggled in her harness, trying her best to get out of the blasted thing.

  “Stop that. You’re gonna pop my laces.”

  “Then tell me what I want to know!”

  “What is all the fuss about?” Boon asked. He did a double take at the state of his lady friend. “Whoa, that is a nice harness. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Because Dodger has more experience with ladies under things,” Lelanea said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What is important now is that Dodger just used the last of the rope on this accursed thing.”

  “Ah. And?”

  “And how are you supposed to get across now?”

  “Don’t bust a seam,” Dodger said. “Both Boon and I have perfectly good belts. In my experience, a leather belt is just about the best thing to slide down a line.”

  Lelanea drooped in the harness, her legs and head comically dangling free. “Of course. I feel rather silly now for getting so excited about it.”

  “Keep feeling silly,” Dodger said. “Relaxing like that is just what you need right now.” Without giving her a chance to ask just what he meant, Dodger pushed Lelanea off the platform.

  She slid gently across the chasm, twirling about in midair, like a graceful dancer, all the way to Sir Rodger’s side. The knight caught her before she reached the ruined bridge, bringing her to a soft stop. He helped her out of the makeshift corset, then gave a signal that he was ready for the next person.

  “You ready?” Dodger asked.

  “I reckon so,” Boon said. “You say I can use my belt?”

  “Sure.” Dodger emptied his holsters, tucking his weapons into his pack before he removed his gun belt. “It’s the way I’ve always done it.”

  Boon followed Dodger’s example, poking Hortense and Florence into his backpack, as well as the excess ammo. He wrapped one end of the belt around his fist, the wide leather band dwarfed by his huge hand. The big guy didn’t even need to use the platform to elevate himself; the ropeslide was well within his towering reach. “I just throw it over then?”

  “Yeah, just throw it over and grab the other end. Twist it just like you got that side.”

  Boon inhaled and exhaled a few times. He looked back over his shoulder to Dodger. “Any other words of advice?”

  “Hang on tight and don’t let go.”

  “Thanks. Hey, can I tell you a secret, in case I don’t make it across?”

  “No, because you’re gonna be fine. Just go.”

  “I want you to know why I was in Celina alone, without my guns.”

  Dodger hesitated in his second denial. Now this was just about the most unfair thing anyone had ever done to him. Right before the big guy pushes off, he decides to unload his burning conscience onto Dodger? Really? “Are you sure you want to tell me?”

  “Yes. I want someone else to know. I think Ched has an idea, but I want another person to know for sure, just in case something happens to me.”

  “What’s the hold up?” Lelanea shouted across the chasm.

  “Nothin’!” Dodger cried. “We’re just getting the last of the stuff!” He turned to Boon and motioned to the others. “You better get on. Your lady is waiting for you.”

  “Wife,” Boon said with a beatific grin. “She was gonna be my wife.”

  Dodger understood. “You were going to ask her to marry you?”

  Boon nodded. “I was in Celina looking for a ring. I didn’t want anyone else to know, so I went alone. I left my weapons because I didn’t want to buy her ring armed to the teeth like that. You know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Dodger smiled at the man, though truthfully he wasn’t sure he understood the whole unarmed thing at all. He felt like there may have been a time when leaving his weapons behind was a good thing
. But now? Right now, at this moment in time, he wouldn’t go unarmed for love nor money. His weapons were his life. Simple as that. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I don’t really know. I just felt like I should get it off my chest.”

  “Feel better now?”

  “Yeah, I reckon I do. Thanks. Sorry to burden you with it, but thanks for listening.”

  “No problem. Remember, hang on, don’t let go.”

  “Right.” Boon wrapped the leather belt around the line and twisted the free end in his fist. “See you over there.”

  Dodger tipped his fingers to his forehead, then gave Boon a massive shove. The big guy barely fit through the gap in the ruined bridge, slid down the rope with a longwinded holler and came to a rough landing on the other side. He was up and laughing in no time at all, waving across the chasm for Dodger to join them.

  After one last check to make sure they had everything they needed, and to make sure the mare was comfortable, Dodger approached the line. It had been so long since he had even seen a ropeslide, much less employed one. The last time he slid down one was during his last trip to Bangladesh; he and Crank used one to escape from a prison tower. The guards fired at them from the open window, and even though an arrow grazed young Rodger’s right thigh, the pair managed to get away without much more trouble. But that was a lifetime ago and did little to help him out here.

  Dodger slipped his pack over his back and grabbed up his belt with a sigh. He twisted one end in his right hand, looked out across the chasm, then slapped the leather across the line. Drawing a deep breath, he wrapped his left hand with the rest of the belt, allowing the cool metal of the buckle to rest inside of his palm.

  Thanks to his anxiety about the slide, time seemed to pass by at an exaggeratedly sluggish pace. Dodger kicked off of the platform and scooted across the expanse of the chasm in a slow creep. He inched down the line, leaving behind the ruined bridge and mare and abandoned equipment, drawing slowly but ever closer to his traveling companions. They stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the gulf, watching him cross with such concentration that Dodger began to feel like he should put on a show. If he had thought about it, he would’ve tried something more daring, or even out right dangerous, anything to give that passel of spectators their money’s worth. The thought of this amused him, and he set to laughing as he slid further down the line.

  It was about that time something whizzed over the heads of the onlookers, catching the glint of the sun as it passed by. Dodger watched with mounting curiosity as this something flew through the air, past the ropeslide, and bounced against the twisted bridge with a resounding clink of metal against metal. As it clattered to the ground, Dodger recognized it as an arrow. He also realized that it didn’t pass by the rope, but through it. Several things happened at the same time after that.

  A cry went up from the path behind the spectators, announcing the beginning of an all out attack.

  Sir Rodger drew his blade and spun about to meet the enemy.

  Boon tossed down his pack, obviously going for his stored guns.

  Sarah snapped up her bow, and nocked an arrow.

  Lelanea kept her eyes glued to Dodger, a pain filled howl rising from her throat.

  The rope that bore Dodger’s entire weight went slack and slithered away.

  And Dodger, with nothing else to do, plummeted into the chasm below.

  ****

  back to toc

  ****

  Chapter Thirteen

  Waking Reality

  In which Dodger demands to dream

  Falling to his death wasn’t as terrible as Dodger feared it might be. Sure, at first there was a fair amount of flailing and grasping for support and lolling about in the inky blackness, but after a few hundred feet, Dodger remembered that this was indeed a dream. And, as they say, it isn’t the falling that’s the problem; it’s the landing that got you. He took comfort in the fact that there was a very real possibility that the dream abyss was endless, though a possibility wasn’t strong enough medicine to completely ease his worry. The doc warned that no one could spontaneously awaken from a session with the DREAM machine, yet Dodger wasn’t just anyone; he was a marked man, and he didn’t suppose the fates would keep him alive this long just to trap him in a young lady’s bad dream.

  Dodger pondered his options for a moment, and decided that if he couldn’t wake himself internally, he would have to get the doc to wake him from the outside. But how? As he continued to fall, Dodger mulled this over, reaching for any viable option. In the distance of his memory, he heard the doc commanding his metal manservant.

  “Of course there is something else, you metal nitwit. With Lelanea occupied I’ll need you to assist me in monitoring their vitals.”

  This flash of memory sparked an idea. Calmness be damned! He returned to his struggle against the abyss, kicking and screaming and flailing about, but this time with focus. He boxed with the darkness and hollered at the emptiness and lashed out with his legs at the nothingness, hoping his sleeping body displayed the effects of his dreaming efforts. Dodger fought and fought for what seemed an eternity, until his arms began to tire, his legs grew heavy, and his hopes for rescue started to fade.

  “Wake up!” someone cried in his ear.

  He jerked awake and sat bolt upright. He glanced to his left, then his right, and it took less than a second for him to realize he didn’t know where he was. He leapt from the chair and backed himself into a vacant corner of the crowded room, his hands searching his waist for his guns but coming up empty. He raised his fists before him, ready for an attack as he scanned the area for anything he could use as a weapon. The room was small wit a cot, two chairs, one sliding door, one shuttered window. Four people filled the cramped room; two elderly males—one Caucasian, one Chinese—and two sleeping females— both Caucasian, one preteen and one in her mid twenties or so. A metal statue stood near the door, while a strange piece of unidentifiable equipment sat between the chairs. The room seemed to rock ever so faintly, but movement was definitely there, which meant he was aboard a vehicle of some kind. The narrow nature of the cabin suggested train, though the subtlety of the movement said boat. With no real weapons in sight, he kept his fists raised high.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  “Oh dear,” the Caucasian male said, in a light British accent. “I was afraid of this.”

  “Dodger?” the Chinaman said, with a surprising lack of accent. “Do you know who we are?” The Chinaman motioned between the pair of strangers.

  He stared at the men, wondering who in the hell this Dodger was. “Answer me or I will kill you where you stand.”

  “I don’t think he knows who he is,” the Brit said.

  “Where am I?” he asked again.

  A tinny voice issued from the metallic statue. “Trust me, we’re in hell.”

  He backed further into the corner at the sound. “Did that thing speak?”

  “No,” the statue said, “I’m not speaking. I’m baking a cake.”

  “Lay off,” the Chinaman said. “He is bad enough without the wisecracks.”

  “Shame, because they are the only wise things around here lately. What is wrong with Sergeant Hardhead?”

  “Just a bit of memory loss,” the Brit said. “Seems he has forgotten the last few days. And weeks. And possibly years.”

  “Trust you to send him back into assassin mode,” the statue said.

  “I believe the effect is temporary. Unlike your failures, you copper nincompoop.”

  He kept his fists high, in case one of these crazy strangers tried to jump him. “What is going on here? Answer me!”

  “If I had a number eighty-one I could right this,” the Brit said. “Otherwise, I don’t know what else can be done but wait him out.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” the Chinaman said. “Rodger Dodger, look at me.”

  The name sounded as familiar as it did silly. He glanced to the Chinaman, trying his best to
keep the other man in his peripheral vision, and failing. Once he locked gazes with the dazzling eyes of the Chinaman, everything else seemed to melt away. The room, the other folks, the strange talking metal man. And all the while the Chinaman never moved, never wavered, but his eyes … those eyes lit up brighter than a switchman’s lantern on a foggy night. They just shined and shined and shined. In the depth of that luminescence, Dodger recognized the flickering images of his own memories.

  Dodger blinked a few times, then winced. His head ached fiercely, leaving his temples pounding with pain. “What happened?”

  “Dodger?” the doc asked. “It is Dodger, yes?”

  “Who else would it be?”

  This drew a bright grin from the doc, but the humor of the moment passed as quick as it came.

  “Sir?” Torque asked far too politely.

  Dodger glanced over to find Feng dangling from the arms of the clockwork man, either passed out or near as damn it.

  The doc scooted across the room to the Celestial’s side. He stooped to pat the man’s cheek a few times. “Feng? Old friend, are you still with us?”

  Feng stirred and groaned. “I’m not dead yet, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Thank Freya for that.”

  “What happened?” Dodger asked.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Feng said. The Celestial leaned away from the metal butler and tried to stand of his own accord, only to tumble back into Torque’s outstretched arms.

  “Looks like you need a rest,” Dodger said.

  “You should rest a while too,” the doc said. “Your brain has suffered a tremendous shock.”

  Dodger rubbed his aching head. “I do feel a bit fuzzy around the edges.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember you attaching me to that machine. I went to sleep and woke up in a forest. I think Boon and I fought a dragon.”

  “I heard all about that. You sound like you handled yourself with aplomb.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about all that. I remember we got kidnapped by dwarves. But Sarah helped us escape and followed that knight of hers to a chasm where …” Dodger’s eyes widened as he remembered the attack just before he fell. “We were under attack. I mean they were under attack. I was busy falling down the chasm, but the others were in trouble. They probably still are.”