As the world progressed and the mines closed, it evolved into a tourist destination. Starting in the ’80s, it transported visitors instead of supplies to Silverton as it began to rely more on their dollars than the income from the mining companies. The mines closed in the ’90s, but the train carried on and ran curious passengers back and forth between the two towns until the bombs redefined how people thought of vacations.
Once again, the railroad served its original purpose. Under a cloud of steam, the engines brought gold and silver coins from the mines into the marketplace where they were exchanged for food and other goods that were returned to the castle.
Keeping a steam train operational wasn’t easy in the best of times. That most antique railroad enthusiasts had been apocalypsed with everyone else didn’t make things any easier. But the Kingdom of the Five Peaks dedicated several crews to maintaining the line no matter how difficult it was.
Some diesel-electric engines still ran. The Dakota War Train was one—a menacing engine of destruction a mile long that carried a thousand men and twice as many guns. The machine was the brainchild of a twisted warlord that ruled over an extremely long, but extremely narrow, tract of territory in the Midwest.
The engine brought death and destruction. It spit fire and hell and forced those in its path to submit to the warlord’s rule. This continued until those in its path realized they could move about a mile away from the track, rendering the great machine useless. For, despite all its weapons, the Dakota War Engine had fairly limited mobility. Still, as useless as it had become, the engine still ran.
Many of those that still functioned had been converted to power plants. More than a few towns had formed around a derailed locomotive and attracted people from all over the wasteland. They came with devices in hand dying to plug in. Few were naïve enough to think they could still make calls, download updates or Google anything. For most, these engines were the only opportunity they had to see pictures of their loved ones once again.
Some of the communities became medical centers and devoted their trains to running dialysis machines and other hospital equipment. Others tried to become entertainment centers by screening movies and music. But, wherever there was power, trouble found it. If a town had an engine now it almost certainly lay behind thick walls and men who stood ready to defend it.
In almost every case, the engines fared better than the railways themselves.
Stripped by scavengers for lumber and steel, the tracks had been torn from the earth. Crossties were stacked for homes and town walls. Idiots tried to burn them to heat their homes, but only once. As difficult as it was to keep an engine running, maintaining a line was almost impossible.
But the Durango-Silverton was different.
Jerry and Erica were bound at the wrist. Chewy was muzzled, leashed and not happy about it. The trio stood guarded on the platform of the historic Durango station as the engine approached.
They saw it coming before they heard it. A cloud of smoke appeared over the city’s low-built structures. Black soot mixed with white-hot steam to form a grey tail trailing into the hills beyond town.
The sound of the engine blended in with the din of the crowd at first. Slowly the chug overpowered the racket of commerce and the rhythmic stroke of the pistons clanked above all else.
It approached them like a creature born of a nightmare. The sounds and site of the ethereal cloud was tied to nothing until it rounded the corner of College Street. A mass of black steel hid in the billow of smoke and churned closer until it was upon them. The engine was entirely black. It was impossible to distinguish what was paint and what was soot. The only other color on the train was the scratched remains of white engine numbers.
A burst of white smoke shot from the side of the train as it slowed its approach to the station. This burst scattered a crowd that had gathered along the rails to watch the arrival. More than a hundred years and one apocalypse later, the site and sounds of a steam engine still amazed the masses.
Jerry smiled like a toddler as it rolled past them at the station. He turned to one of his guards and took a deep breath. “Oh, wow.”
“What?” the guard asked.
“We get to ride a train,” Jerry said.
“We’re taking you to jail, you dumbass.”
“Yeah. But you’re taking me to jail on a train!”
Erica turned away. “Ugh. I’ll never understand boys.”
Jerry turned to her. “Oh come on. This is cool.”
The engine came to a stop somewhere beyond the station, and the guards pushed them towards an open-air passenger car. They seated the couple back-to-back on a bench that ran the length of the car and secured their bindings through a metal ring at their feet. Chewy was placed in a freight car next to them and was still not happy about it.
Several knights spread out across the benches. There was ample space in the car for twenty people, but the knights found maneuvering difficult. Several men repositioning in such close quarters with four feet of sword sticking out behind them produced more “excuses me’s,” “my bad’s,” and “oh, I’m sorry, was that your face’s” than Jerry had heard in years. Even in the apocalypse, chivalry was not dead. But it had grown stupid.
“How fast does it go?” Jerry asked the knight closest to him.
There was no response.
“Do we get to go over any big bridges?” he asked another.
Again there was no answer.
“What are we going to see?”
Nothing.
“You guys are no fun,” Jerry said. “You’re spoiled. That’s what it is. Not many people get to ride a train anymore. You should be thankful.”
The guards made it obvious that they did not share his enthusiasm. “You won’t be making jokes when you start to freeze. Now shut up.”
“I might. I’ll try and think of some freezing jokes for you guys.”
The whistle blew and the pistons began their slow and steady churn. Jerry leaned back and opened his mouth to speak to Erica.
“I don’t want to hear about the train either.”
Jerry remained silent for a moment before changing the conversation. “So that Mr. Christopher is kind of a dick, huh?”
# # #
Jerry’s questions about the train were answered quickly.
How fast did it go? Slower than the speed of interesting.
Would they cross any bridges? Yes, several very low and dull bridges.
What would they see? Trees. Tree after tree after tree and a river.
The train moved along at a slow and steady pace, making only one stop to attach a plow car and fill the boiler. All in all the ride was so beautifully boring that the guards eventually broke their silence and began to talk to the prisoners.
“So what was that fight all about, anyway?”
Erica answered with a question of her own. “Didn’t he tell you when he paid you to look the other way?”
The knight crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, miss. Taking a bribe is against the king’s Law.”
Erica snorted. “Just like that?”
“Bringing false accusations against one of the king’s men is also against the king’s Law. You’d better be careful what you say. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
Erica sighed. “We’re not really sure what it’s all about. He’s been following us for months. He’s a bounty hunter and he’s convinced himself that we’re wanted.”
“Now why would he think that?” the knight asked.
Jerry shrugged. “Did you see how he was dressed?”
The knight nodded.
“He’s clearly an idiot,” Jerry said.
The guard chuckled and nodded again.
Another knight spoke up. “He didn’t look like much of a bounty hunter to me.”
Erica smirked. “You run into a lot of bounty hunters, do you?”
“Nah, but you hear about them. The good ones, anyway. People pass through and tell stories. L
ike, ‘Deadeye’ Dick Devlin.” The knight made a gun with his finger. “He’s the best shot in the wasteland.”
“Second best,” Erica said. “Apparently.”
“What’s that?” the knight asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Jerry said and shot Erica a look she couldn’t see. “Rumor has it he was shot dead outside of Abilene.”
“Really? That’s a shame. He was the best.”
“Second best,” said Erica.
Another guard jumped into the conversation. “You know who I always liked? Kamikaze Cooper. I met him once, you know? Hell of a guy. Wasn’t afraid of anything.”
Erica shifted in her seat. “I’ll bet he’s scared of heights now.”
“He is not. Why would you say that?”
“He fell into a canyon last month,” Jerry said. “A damn shame, really.”
“Oh, man. Really? I hadn’t heard that.”
Erica shrugged. “Bounty hunting is a dangerous business.”
Tommy had been silent during the conversation but spoke up now. “That’s what makes it so cool—the danger. I love hearing stories about those guys. I follow all of them.” Tommy held up his hand and started counting off fingers. “There’s ‘Crossbow’ Johnson.”
Erica answered each finger in turn. “Garroted with a bowstring.”
“Brad ‘The Blade’ Patterson.”
“Stabbed.”
“‘Dashing Dan’ Johnson.”
“Car crash.”
“Clay ‘Claymore’ Moore.”
“Uh … kaboom.”
“Three-Finger Dakota?”
Erica held up two fingers.
“Wow,” Tommy said as he sat back down. “It’s been a rough time for bounty hunters.”
Jerry tried to make the most of their willingness to talk. “Since you guys are fans, what do you know about this Mr. Christopher guy?”
“Never heard of him,” Tommy said.
Jerry squinted. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or this is part of the whole ‘he didn’t bribe me’ thing.”
“No. I really never heard of him.”
Sir David had remained silent until now. “Shut up, Tommy.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Dave.” Tommy turned back to the prisoners. “What’s this guy’s gimmick?”
Erica answered, “I don’t think he has one.”
“What?” Tommy turned to the knight next to him. “What kind of bounty hunter doesn’t have a gimmick?”
Jerry shrugged. Of all the bounty hunters that had come after the price on their heads, Mr. Christopher had come closest to collecting. In every case, the man hid behind others and played more of a managerial role, recruiting others in the hunt. That’s how Three-Finger Dakota lost his ability to count past two.
It had been one bounty hunter after another. The first few had shown up in New Hope, Texas, where Erica and Jerry had tried to make their home. The amateurs that came first caused little worry, but when the professionals started showing up it was clear that the couple was endangering the people of the town.
So they had left. They had packed up and headed west. Erica thought she might have friends left on the coast. It was a long shot, but when there was nowhere else to run, west was as good as any place. East was out. That’s where the blood money was coming from.
Heading west should have been a relatively easy trip. The world was still full of stupid people, but not so stupid they would live in the desert and bitch about being thirsty for the rest of their lives. Mr. Christopher had dogged them every step of the way and slowed their progress. He couldn’t blame the man in white for the broken fuel pump that put them in Durango, but he might as well have.
The train blew three long blasts from the whistle and the knights snapped into action. Each stood quickly and apologized to whomever they hit with their scabbards. They moved to the car’s edge and put their eyes on the track ahead. Whispers were traded. “High line” was the only phrase Jerry could pick out of the hushed conversations.
“What’s high line?” Jerry asked.
One guard kept his gaze on the prisoners. He answered their question quietly. “The High Line is the highest point of the run. It runs along the edge of a cliff. Very dangerous.”
“Cool,” Jerry said.
The knights drew their swords as best they could in the confines of the car.
“Are they going to stab the cliff?” Erica asked.
The guard shook his head and gestured for silence as the train entered the perilous stretch of track. A red cliff rose up on both sides. Had his hands been free, Jerry could easily reach out and touch the stone walls as the train barreled on.
The wall on the right fell away and they were rolling above the trees of the San Juan forest. Jerry stood as far as the bindings would allow and looked over the edge. He could see the Animas River flowing far beneath them. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
The guard shushed him and put his hand on the grip of his sword.
The rocks appeared again and they were back in a canyon of pink stone. Jerry looked back at the guard. “Nice place for an ambush.”
The canyon wall disappeared once more as the train made its way along the shelf. The treetops were far beneath them. The evergreens covered the canyon floor in a blanket of green and white.
There was yelling from the front of the train. Not panicked but practiced. Jerry couldn’t make out the words but imagined they were to the effect of “all clear.” But it wasn’t until they had cleared the pass that the knights relaxed and turned back around.
Jerry caught Tommy’s gaze and said, “I imagine a train full of food is a mighty tempting target for hungry people.”
Tommy spit on the ground at Jerry’s feet and turned his back.
The knights spent the next five minutes putting their swords away.
The conversation never returned. The four-hour ride was made in silence and, to their word, it only got colder.
SIX
The walls of the castle rose roughly thirty feet into the air. More precisely, they rose the height of the three shipping containers the kingdom had stacked in line to surround their castle. The wall’s size and steel construction would be enough to make any potential invader think twice, but it was the mural that had caused Erica to speak.
Admittedly, a wall of rusting, faded shipping containers could be a blight on any community, so she didn’t fault them for painting their exterior. It was that they painted the castle walls with trolls and ogres that gave her pause. And the big-breasted Valkyries that rode on the backs of winged white tigers to vanquish the creatures made her laugh.
“It’s not that bad,” Jerry said.
“It belongs on a van,” she said.
“Maybe they didn’t have a van.”
“It’s offensive to women.”
“How do you figure that?” Jerry asked. “The women with the metal bras and big boobs are obviously the heroes here. See? That lovely lady with the fire coated nipple shield has defeated the dragon and tied him up with her whip.”
“And placed a ball gag in his mouth.”
Jerry looked back at the dragon bondage scene. “Oh, I didn’t see that. But, if you think about it, it makes total sense. She wouldn’t want the dragon breathing fire. She’s wearing practically no fire protection.”
“She’s wearing practically nothing,” Erica said.
“She’s got a very nice helmet on.”
“And the cat-o’-nine-tails?”
“I’d have to check my history, but I’m pretty sure that’s one of the best ways to keep a dragon in line.”
The couple chuckled as a particularly large metal cupped bustier split in two to allow the train access to the city. The train rolled though the breasted gate.
“I think we just got to second base with the Silver Kingdom,” Jerry said.
Erica laughed out loud and drew the guard’s attention.
“Laugh all you want. They’ll be closing those as soon as we’re t
hrough. Nothing gets in or out but the train. You aren’t going anywhere.”
Jerry looked offended. “Now that the kingdom has taken us unto its bosom, why would we want to leave?”
“Ha. Ha,” the guard didn’t laugh. “Get a good look at the sky. You probably won’t be seeing much of it where you’re going.”
Jerry looked up not to the sky but the tops of the walls. Knights patrolled the edge. The same industrial-sized crossbows they saw at the gates were mounted on the wall here as well, but there were many more of them and they were even closer together.
The train rolled past the station at the edge of town and continued deep into Silverton on extended tracks that once took the tourists closer to the souvenir district. It didn’t stop until it reached the center of town.
Jerry and Erica were untied from the bench and led from the train as Tommy continued to goad them with threats of imprisonment. “Ewe’ll be goin’ to the mine fo’ certain, tough guy. But, don’t worry, Eye’m shor yer girl will get to stay up ’ere on the surface with us.” He shoved them into the street.
The citizens of the town weren’t interested in the train. The streets weren’t crowded, but they were full. Erica would even describe it as bustling. Men and women moved about at a leisurely pace. Many smiled and spoke with others as they crossed paths. If they hadn’t been dressed in period costumes, it would have seemed like a normal day in a normal town. The clothes looked beautiful and in good condition but were odd nonetheless.
Erica leaned over to Jerry and whispered. “Look at how they’re dressed. It’s so odd.”
“I know,” he said. “I was expecting more metal braziers.”
“Rebecca would have loved this,” Erica said with no small amount of sadness.
Jerry wanted to put his arm around her. He wanted to hold her tight. Losing her sister had been worse for Erica than losing the entire world. He leaned in close to her since the bindings prevented an embrace.
A young boy yelled as he ran along the length of the train. “Sir Thomas?”
“Ere boy!” the knight yelled back.
The young teen panted as he spoke. “Sir Thomas, the king has ordered that the prisoner be brought before him at once.”
Knights of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 2) Page 5