Mac heard the door of the passenger car open behind him and saw the Russian jumping down from the platform to join him.
“Ah! Good morning! Feeling better?”
Mac considered the question and decided that yes, he was feeling better.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. I didn’t wake up coughing my lungs out, so that was a pleasant change from the last few weeks.”
The Russian smiled and nodded his head. His beard and hair appeared to have taken on a life of its own overnight, appearing even more unkempt than before.
“See! Vodka!”
Mac shrugged.
“Maybe.”
Yakov began walking to the front of the train, his voice trailing behind him.
“No maybe. Just yes. Vodka!”
Mac stretched his arms above his head, and then leaned over to touch his feet. He really was feeling better, the pain in his back not withstanding. Sunlight was now breaking through the trees, casting a beautiful glow over the Russian’s beloved train.
Going back into the passenger car, he found Cooper Wyse up as well. The rancher was whispering to Brando, asking the Doberman if he wanted to go outside.
“Well hello there, Mac. Nice to see you looking better.”
Mac wondered if the compliment actually reflected how he looked.
“Am I really looking better, Coop?”
The rancher stood up and looked back at Mac.
“Yeah – I’d say so. Quite a bit better, actually. Guess that Russian vodka agrees with you.”
Mac rubbed his temples.
“Tell that to my head.”
Within the next hour, Bear, Reese, and Dublin also awoke. Dublin in particular appeared to be hurting the most from the impacts of the evening’s choice of drink.
“Ok, guys…remind me not to do that again for a while.”
Bear chuckled at Dublin’s discomfort, and then proceeded to do an impression of Yakov for the others.
“Vodka good! You drink it good! Make you feel all better!”
Dublin began to laugh at how accurate Bear’s voice took on the Russian’s accent and tone, but then stopped abruptly as she looked behind Bear to see Yakov staring back at her.
Bear continued with his impression, unaware the Russian stood just behind him.
“Drink vodka! Don’t be pussy! Vodka! Vodka! Vodka!”
Getting no response from Dublin or the others, Bear looked back at them in frustration.
“What? I thought that was pretty good. Sounds just like him.”
Yakov cleared his throat.
Bear froze, his eyes rolling from side to side in a vain attempt to somehow see in the back of his head.
The Russian began to clap slowly.
“Very good, yeah? You sound like me? Ok then. Now get your ass back to front of train and fill the firebox with coal. We have many hours to travel.”
Bear turned himself slowly around, his hands held up in front of him.
“Didn’t mean anything by it, Yakov. Just having a little fun.”
Yakov nodded back at Bear.
“Of course – of course! Just a little fun! No hard feelings. We shake on it. All good then.”
Bear appeared relieved, extending his right hand out toward the Russian, who proceeded to grasp it firmly in his own. Yakov smiled back at Bear as he began squeezing the taller man’s hand as Bear attempted to continue appearing as if the increasing pressure was not causing him any discomfort. The fact was though, he already wanted to cry out in pain, so powerful was the Russian’s grip.
Sensing he had made his point, Yakov released Bear’s hand and began making his way back outside.
“Hurry up. Fill the firebox so we can begin warming the engine.”
Bear followed close behind the Russian, gently rubbing his right hand as he did so.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Dublin started giggling again, soon joined by the others. Mac in particular found it difficult to contain his laughter.
“Those two make one hell of an odd couple, but I do believe they were made for one another!”
A voice cut across the interior of the passenger car, originating from Mac’s portable shortwave that he had just turned on shortly after waking. Walking over to where he had left it, he adjusted the radio’s volume to ensure everyone else could hear. The voice was that of Royce Calhoun, leader of the Texas Resistance – the man who had requested they make their way to Churchill, Manitoba in search of an alleged weapon to be used against the New United Nations.
“This is Mac Walker – please repeat.”
Mac and the others waited silently for a response. None came.
“This is Mac Walker – repeat your last message.”
Royce Calhoun’s voice again issued from the shortwave.
“Mac, this is Calhoun. I need you to know…we are running out of time down here. They got us pinned along the border, bombing the hell out of us inside Texas, and coordinating attacks from the drug cartels in Mexico. What is your ETA to destination?”
Mac pushed the transmit button on the handheld.
“We are within twenty four hours. Repeat – twenty four hours.”
There was another pause of nearly a minute in the communication before Royce Calhoun responded.
“Mac, we need that weapon. I have been assured it is real and it can be effective. Don’t want to say exactly how over the open signal here in case we’re being monitored. We need you to get to the assigned location as soon as possible. Look for the church.
Our status down here is reaching…it ain’t good, Mac. Maybe a few days left, a week at most. We lost over a hundred yesterday to another drone attack. Some days the skies are almost completely filled with these goddamn drones, one bombing attack after another. Our numbers are down to a few thousand active. Losing more every day. I’m swamped with injured men and women, people who haven’t had water in days, or food in over a week. Received confirmation they are assembling more drones for Alaska too. Gonna come in strong up there. Do you understand?”
Mac looked up at Reese, Dublin and Cooper before he answered Royce Calhoun.
“We understand. Doing our best. Give us another twenty four.”
Royce Calhoun’s voice betrayed the immense stress he was under attempting to lead the newly formed Texas Resistance against the drone might that was the New United Nations.
“God help us, Mac. You got twenty four hours. After that…I don’t know if there’ll be anything left to save down here.”
The communication went silent.
Mac rose from his seat slowly, bracing for the now always present pain in his back to intensify.
“I’m going to talk to Yakov. We need to get this train moving – NOW.”
The group followed Mac out of the passenger car and toward the locomotive where Bear was still filling the firebox with coal. The Russian emerged from the front of the train, looking back at Mac and the others, wondering what it was they wanted.
“Yakov, I need you to get us moving again. Right now. We need to be in Churchill by tomorrow. No later. This train needs to be pushed to its limits. Can you do that for us?”
Yakov stroked his massive, unruly beard as his dark eyes looked back at Mac.
“We go too fast, it could damage engine. Then, we don’t go at all.”
Mac took another step toward the Russian, his face attempting to convey how desperate the situation had become.
“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 damn 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 shotguns 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.
/>
Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection... Page 128