by Rory Nelson
They look at him stupefied and look at each other. “Why would you want us to do that? Your man wanted us to go full speed ahead.”
“I’m not with them,” remarks Renault. They look at him confused and notice his disheveled, battered appearance.
The tall one named Peters speaks up. He nods his head with vigor. “Ai. We can do it.”
“As soon as you disconnect, get to the other side- so no matter what happens you’ll live.”
The men stop what they’re doing and head to a storage bin.
In silence, Renault walks to the control deck and notices a cubbyhole. The snug space accommodates him. He waits for the ensuing inevitable ruckus once the car disconnects. Minutes later, loud hissing screeches followed by the cling and clang of locks releasing. Success. The acceleration surge jerks the train faster as 90% of their payload unleashes.
As expected, a man runs from the control deck. Within Renault’s reach, he fires successive rounds, hitting the man in the chest, neck and abdomen. He topples over as blood gushes from several wounds.
Renault rushes to the control room and puts his hand on the throttle. Corden looks at him in shocked dismay. “What the fuck?”
“I’m not with them, Sai.”
“I figured, but you just about made me shit myself and have a heart attack, all at the same time. Who the fuck are you people?”
Renault gives him a stern look. “People you’d rather not cross. People you don’t want to be asking too many questions of.”
“I figured that.”
“I need you to stop this rig. You ken?”
Corden sighs in relief. “That I can do. Name’s Corden. You have a name, Sai?”
“Smith.”
“Smith, huh?” he questions.
“You did a good service here today, Sai. You should be commended for it.”
“All I did was take orders from men waving a gun in my face—if that’s your idea of a ‘good service.’”
“You didn’t crack under pressure. Didn’t try to do anything heroic.”
Corden looks at Renault with curiosity. “I ken the heroic stuff would be better left to you, then?”
Renault smiles with deviousness. The train comes to a lurching halt. “Thankee, Sai. I, of course, would appreciate you leaving my name out of all this.”
“I never really got a look at this man. Never got his name either. Not that Smith is your real name anyway.”
“So long Corden.”
Looking in the other direction, Renault walks out of the train. He finds a silent spot and kneels on one knee. Renault closes his eyes and concentrates. Minute vibrations sound in the distance. Seconds later, the vibrations increase. As Renault lifts his head, he sees the motorized contraption gliding across the tracks.
Renault smiles and goes out to meet Drake.
Chapter 13: Much Needed Aid
Less than five minutes later, Drake arrives on his motorized contraption riding on the opposite side of the tracks.
“Where’s your hat?” asks Renault.
“That’s what you’re asking me, really? Where’s my hat? What fucking difference does that make?” In the middle of his tirade, Renault steps up onto the motorized platform.
“As soon as you left, several men ambushed me and I barely escaped with my life. And you’re asking me what happened to my hat? What the fuck do you think happened to it? I guess I forgot it. It’s somewhere between being shot at, arrested, and pursued by legitimate lawmen long with illegitimate assassins.”
Renault puts his hand on Drake’s shoulder and laughs. “Just a question, brother.”
Drake sighs in frustration. “That fucking cunt Whalen set us up.”
Renault nods with sadness. “Ai, he did. And this mission is now compromised. They know we’re coming. And if we don’t go out to meet them and try to rectify this situation, they’re all dead.”
“How many men do we have inside?” questions Drake.
“Five. Which should have been enough when no one knew of our plans.”
“Before everything went to hell.”
“Those men will know we’ve been compromised as well. And they will improvise to accommodate us the best way we can.”
“But there’s no guarantee-”
“There never is in this business, Drake. You know this. We can’t abandon our men under any circumstances. We can’t allow Whalen and his treacherous cohorts to go unpunished either. But the first thing we must do is accomplish our mission. The rest will follow.”
“We have a contingency plan of sorts, don’t we?” inquires Drake in desperation.
“Was I not trained by Merlin himself?”
“Ai.”
Chapter 14: Scandalous Traveler
Much to the passengers’ chagrin, Lady Gwyneth and her children, Sebastian, Montgomery, and Katelyn-Sue board the train. The commandeered Sene-Gaulian Southern Line train at Bixby is not your ordinary train. Under normal circumstances, the officials never permit a civilian on a dangerous train, especially when transporting an infamous prisoner. But she is no ordinary civilian. Lady Gwyneth is the wife of Commander Batloeb of the Terra-Gaulian Northern Army and privileged beyond measure. Also, on board includes Renault’s five brethren: Wyker, Seven, Taintus, Lex, and Godfrey.
“I don’t agree with you coming on this trip,” says Abe Abernathy, her escort.
“Oh, Abe. You’re such a ninny-come-hither. We’ll be fine. My children are dying to see the ocean. We’ve spent too long on that rat’s nest in Bixby. You had us holed up in there like some common criminals.”
Abernathy rolls his eyes. “It would have only been another day to wait. And then you’d have a train free of deadly criminals.”
She draws him closer and whispers to him in a conspiratorial tone. “Abe, that’s one of the reasons I came on board. I want to see this dangerous criminal I’ve heard so much about. The infamous general that flies raptors. That’s absolutely savage, and I must set my eyes upon him.”
“Mais, you’re in no position to be around him. He’s a dangerous criminal and I must insist you keep your distance. You shouldn’t even be on this train, let alone consorting with the man they’re transporting. No, I will not allow it. I fear I must put my foot down.”
“That’s too bad, Abe. I must inform the commander you failed to please me. I promise you he will not be pleased.”
Abernathy sighs. “Very well, Mais. Stay right here. I will arrange it, if I can.”
She kisses him on the lips and squeals like a child. “Oh Abe, Thankee. Thankee.”
As the back door opens, loud clanking chains ensue. Soldiers escort a tall, muscular gentleman. His hair is close cropped, and a well-manicured beard frames his face. One of his eyes swells shut, and he has a small cut under his other eye.
Captain Monaco, the CO in charge of this detail, gives Lady Gwyneth and her group a contentious glare. “Just had to let her on, didn’t you? When ya people gonna fuckin’ learn? This ain’t a place for women, no matter how privileged they are.” He looks around at his men contentiously as if they are personally responsible for endangering the life of Gwyneth and her spoiled little shits.
Lieutenant Danmonger strides up to him and salutes. Monaco returns his salute with a perfunctory one of his own. “Captain, we have a full detail of men ready at all vulnerable points on this train. We have three Gatling guns lined up: one at the middle, at the end, and at the beginning. Should anyone attempt to board, we will subdue them.”
“Just make sure they’re manned continuously. No slack. These men trying to spring Crixus are no cock-pleasin’ cud munchers like yourselves. You ken?”
Several soldiers hear the vulgar statement. They burst out laughing but stop when their captain gives them a dagger-sharp stare.
Captain Monaco looks at one in particular. “You think that’s funny, Private Robbins? When we get off this rig, by God I’ll make sure you have shit detail for a month. You ken?”
He bows his head. “I cry pardon,
Captain. Won’t happen again.”
“Better not, Private. Otherwise, the only rations you’ll have are the balls that will hang from around your neck once I cut them off. Now shut the fuck up!”
“Lieutenant let’s take another round of this rig. I want to make sure there are no weak points here.”
“Ai, Captain. Set watch and warrant it.”
The crowd breathes a sigh of relief. Lady Gwyneth strides up to Crixus in chains and looks at him, partly in giddy fear and enraptured curiosity. “What a specimen. This savage looks every bit the part, doesn’t he?”
“He’s very dangerous,” cautions Abernathy.
“Oh, you ninny,” she scolds. She walks right up to Crixus and looks at him with something close to admiration. She caresses his skin, almost like a lover would. He flinches at first but acquiesces to the feather light touch spreading warmth throughout his body.
“What will you do with him?” she asks.
“He’ll be tried for murder, prison escape and treachery against the Terra-Gauls. Barring a miracle, he’ll be convicted and in two days, he’ll be crucified,” says Abernathy.
Caressing his well-muscled body, she looks at him with longing. “Seems like such a pitiful waste.”
“He’s not a horse who can be trained, Mais. He’s a savage. And his imminent death will be most deserved, I assure you. Alright. Take him to his holding cell at tempest halt,” orders Captain Monaco. The soldiers comply and take him down through the train.
She looks back at him, with a devious and ill-intentioned eye. “Pity it’s such a short trip. I would have liked to better acquaint myself with him.”
Abernathy rolls his eyes. “Can we go, my lady?”
She looks at him, toying with him with her bashful eyes. Her look changes just as fast to a lascivious one. “Oh, I have one further request, Abe. And by God, you’re going to honor it.” She grabs him with wanton abandon and clutches his cock in her hands. He fights her off initially but rises to the occasion. “And if you don’t, I shall tell my husband of your inappropriate behavior.
Abe pushes her off him, but sighs in exasperated resignation.
(2)
In one car housing the horses, Wyker, Seven, Taintus, and Lex congregate in a dark corner. Wyker takes a drag on his cigar, while he throws down his cards. A coded knock on the door ensues. Lex opens it and observes Godfrey, with a frayed look of dismay.
“Thought you’d never fucking get here, Godfrey,” snaps Wyker. “We’ve been pacing on a bed of nails here.”
“Not exactly easy sneaking around this rig, especially when the captain himself is already suspicious of you. Almost thought I’d have to blast him with my speed shooter.”
“Helluva lot of good that would do us, brother,” answers Lex.
Seven’s piercing whistles make them cringe. “Brothers, that’s enough. We’re all on edge. I think Godfrey has an update.”
Wyker looks at Godfrey expectantly. “Well?”
Godfrey begins. “Look, we all know this mission has been compromised, but we have no choice. In less than ten minutes, we’ll be coming up around the bend. We need to clear the entry points. Things will get a lot more complicated-”
“And messy,” offers Wyker.
“There are now ten men guarding Crixus and there’s not a damn thing we can do about that. But in less than ten minutes, our brothers will board this train. We had better ensure they get on. You ken?”
The men look at each other somberly and nod. Wyker takes out one of his speed shooters and twirls it. “We haven’t lost a mission yet, brothers.” And with that said, they walk out of the car.
(3)
Daliance, Kilroy, Coit, Egor, Gellen, Penryn, and Ghange Rhu hear the distant whistle of the train. Daliance nods to the other men, while depressing his belay button controlling the slack in his rope. He rappels down in haste and takes cover inside a jagged crevice.
The other men follow him, rappelling in unison. Like Daliance, they are master rock climbers. And this treacherous precipice is mere pube play to them. Unfortunately, they’ve never rappelled down a sheer mountain cliff and landed on top of a train.
Daliance kicks himself off from the cliff face. He swings and rappels down further to another rocky outcropping with many jagged rocks protruding from its surface. Daliance looks at his surroundings and the level the train will follow through this path. They are now above the tracks. Daliance estimates they will be about 30 feet from the train’s roof. Though not ideal, it is their best vantage point to board it.
The men follow him to the precarious position along the cliff wall. With an iron grip and staunch determination, they cling to its surface; though they are upside down. Penryn and Kilroy give him a contentious sneer.
“Really?” asks Egor.
“Any other place we’d be too visible. Look alive, brothers. We only have one chance at this.”
“Let’s hope we don’t pass out from vertigo,” jokes Coit.
The other men laugh while Daliance shakes his head. After a few seconds, he reluctantly joins in.
(4)
Seven and Taintus arrive at the last car and notice about a dozen soldiers guarding the Gatling gun. They are taking no chances. As they saunter over to the group, they hope to hide the desperation in their demeanor.
“What the hell gives, fellas? Ain’t’ you supposed to be up in aft deck, guarding the prisoner?” Corporal Benton asks. “Seems like a couple of ninny fucks want to get written up.”
“The captain sent us up here to relieve you numbskulls. We don’t know what gives. If there is a problem seems you must take it up with Captain himself. You ken?”
Benton jumps down from the platform anchoring the Gatling gun. He towers over Seven and glowers at him, hoping to make him flinch and reveal himself as the traitor. Seven doesn’t falter. “Seems the captain also warned us of traitors in our midst. And I’ve never seen you two before. What outfit you hail from, compatriot?”
“The thirty fourth, Victorville.”
He paces around Seven, hoping he’ll crack from the pressure. “A lot of Bana-Gauls from the 34th. Most of ’em ain’t’ worth a bucket of piss and some of them’s even traitors.” He pauses. “That you, cockmonger?”
With caution, Seven moves his hand to the butt of his speed shooter. Benton does the same. Taintus looks around as his heart trip-hammers in his chest.
As he glances around, he notices a depression in the platform. A hand crank keeps the Gatling gun in place.
In one fluid motion, he steps on the depression and pushes down on the hand crank. The monstrous cannon swings around, catching Benton unawares. The motion slams Benton ten feet in the air and off the train. In the distance, a faint yelp echoes.
Seven ducks down a split second before he would have been knocked from the train. As he gets up, he grabs onto the man next to him and twists his neck, killing him. Taintus uses their moment of incapacitation to strike out at two men next to him.
He grabs onto two knives, one in each hand, and buries them into the men next to him. They go down in a bloody, cursing heap. Two men fire at them as they retreat to the back of the large platform. A bullet hits Taintus’ side and blood flows from the wound.
Seven reaches for his guns and fires in rapid succession. As the two men realize they are sandwiched in the melee, bullets riddle their necks and faces. Their bodies slam down with gaping holes of gore, cartilage and bones.
The other men retreat, while Taintus and Seven take cover. A plethora of aimless gunfire rips through the platform and pierces the Gatling gun. They hide in the depression behind the gun, while the bullets eat a crazy zigzag throughout the car.
They look at each other in desperation. Taintus feels the sticky wetness at his side and knows the sobering truth. It was more than just a graze. “Give me cover. I’ll head for the Gatling gun.”
“How?” questions Seven. “We’re surrounded and taking it from all sides.”
“Do the best you can.”
<
br /> Taintus takes off while Seven stands up and starts shooting in multiple directions. Two of the hits find their mark in a couple of soldiers and they drop. Taintus reaches the Gatling gun’s seat but does not arrive any less unscathed. He gets hit twice, once in the leg and the side of the face. The ringing in his ears reaches fever-pitched intensity. He feels the side of his face where his ear used to be and touches the sticky wetness.
A throng of soldiers pour into the next car. While keeping a safe distance from the deadly gun, Seven fires intermittent pot shots with his speed shooter. He swings the Gatling gun around to face the next car. Several men fire upon the platform, while others take cover or retreat to the other cars.
The bullets hit Taintus another four times: twice in the ribs, once in the shoulder, and through his stomach. While the blood pours from his gaping holes, he depresses the trigger. The bullets penetrate the car, blast the windows out, and demolish the wooden veneer. The fountain of crimson gore soaks the car’s interior. He continues for a few more seconds until the chain of rounds finishes. He chokes, sputters and slumps in his chair as darkness overtakes him.
From up further ahead, sharpshooters riddle the platform with more bullets. Taintus’ corpse vibrates as bullets hit it in rapid, unrelenting succession. His body drops from the seat towards the open door and bounces off the train.
Seven escapes unscathed. He crouches down low into the depression, hoping to make a small target of himself. From his bag, Seven retrieves a grenado, pulls the pin and waits for a few seconds. He catapults it about thirty yards ahead.
The effects are instantaneous and deadly. A fireball erupts throughout the car, dispersing metal shrapnel, and wood pellets. The plume of black smoke obscures the body parts. The acrid smoke makes it difficult to make out anything. For a moment, the shooting stops. Four seconds drag by and he hears it. Something metallic and dense bounces into the car. Glancing in its general direction, Seven hurls himself off the train before the entire car explodes.