by Rory Nelson
Daliance steps back from him, fearful of a potential reprisal. “That’s little comfort with our brethren lying in a bloody heap or ripped apart and dead from heavy artillery fire. You ken?”
Tears flood Renault’s eyes and a single tear rolls down his soot-stained cheeks. “I know,” he says quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Silence ensues but only for a few seconds. The loud, cacophonous explosion with a thick dark cloud interrupts them. Pieces of the track fall off and into the 900-foot drop. The wood trellises and metal bearings holding the massive bridge together bust apart. A deadly chain of events starts. The bridge shakes and shimmies, threatens to topple over. Tracks tear loose from their welded moorings. In seconds, there is hardly any track left between the train and the gaping hole in the bridge. A veritable death trap opens.
Thank God. A diversion. “We need to get the hell out of here!” yells Renault. The men sprint off the bridge. But as soon as they are clear of it, a piercing female wail redirects their attention back to it. “Help me! Help me! I have children down here!”
“We’ve got to go back!” demands Renault.
“Fuck yeah we do,” says Daliance in agreement.
The rest of the men nod. Only Wyker shows reluctancy. “That train is going over. It’s too late!” He cautions.
“Then stay here!” says Daliance. “If you can live with yourself, then stay.”
Wyker watches them run toward the train and their likely deaths. He sighs heavily and sprints after them.
“Wait! I’m coming! Hold up!”
Before they approach the train’s front, the first two cars fall from the disintegrating track. It dangles precariously in midair.
Several pieces of track drop off and pull the rest of the train along the line. The mind-numbing sound of metal against metal grates their nerves painfully. Seconds later, two more cars fall off from the track.
The motion throws Gwyneth and her children against one side of the caboose. Their bodies smash against the metal and each other.
With painstaking effort, she manages to climb up to the metal partition and stick her head out of it. “Help me, please! My children are in here! We can’t hold out much longer!”
Renault, Daliance and the rest of the men gather their climbing rope, D-rings, carabiners, harnesses, cams and nuts, ascenders, slings and webbing.
More of the track gives way. As a rope is tied to a metal post yards from the broken track, two more cars fall off. The head car holds Gwyneth and her children. The force pulls harder on the other cars followed by metal screeching like nails on a chalkboard.
Renault slips into his harness and attaches himself to the rope system and pulley using carabiners. “I need two more men.” He orders.
“I’m going,” exclaims Daliance. He looks at Wyker. “And he’s going too.” Wyker scowls.
Daliance and Wyker throw on their harnesses and tighten them to rappel safely. More of the track gives way, and another car topples over. Gwyneth sticks her head out of the sliding partition and screams. “Help us!” She pleads desperately. “My children are in here. Please hurry!”
Daliance takes a pulley wench, connecting his line of rope directly to Renault’s. He rappels downwards just as swiftly as Renault.
Renault is within two feet of the hanging car. As he extends a hand to reach Gwyneth, her car falls several feet further down. She screams in terror.
With the desperation evident on his face, he looks at Daliance. “Hurry!” he pleads. “Ease into the car. This thing is going down any minute. We don’t have much time!”
Daliance nods.
Seconds later, Daliance is in that car. He slides the metal partition back and enters. “I need one of your children, Mais.” He looks at the youngest boy, Sebastian. “Come with me, boy. Now! I can only take one at a time. But I will be back, set watch and warrant it.” Sebastian grabs on to him with the strength of a vise-grip.
Daliance nods at him. “Hang on like your life depended on it. Because it does. You ken?”
Sebastian nods his head vigorously. “Ai. Don’t let me go.”
“I won’t.” With ginger tippy toes, he approaches the sliding partition. Every tiny step causes a rumble and a shake that seizes his heart like a vice. And, with the utmost urgency, he ascends until he meets Wyker.
Another train track piece falls into the lake, narrowly missing him. Wyker meets him halfway.
“Take her,” demands Daliance.
At the same time, the train teeters further overboard. Daliance finally reaches Gwyneth. “Help my children!” she pleads.
“I’m going to get you all out of here, but I need your help right now. We have to hurry. This thing is not going to hold much longer. I need you to get a hold of yourself and act quickly. You ken? I can only take one at a time. Now bring me your youngest now. What’s her name?” he asks.
“Katelyn-Sue.”
Gwyneth quickly but gingerly picks up Katelyn-Sue and hands her to Renault. “Don’t let anything happen to my baby.”
“I won’t,” promises Renault. “Have your other son wait at the other metal partition. Now! I’ll be back for you. You ken?”
“Ai,” says Gwyneth. “Hurry,” she pleads.
“Hold on tight,” orders Renault. But it is unnecessary. Her tiny hands cling to Renault with all the force of a vise-grip.
Renault swings out and cinches the pulley through the carabiner. Once again, he meets Wyker up halfway, who takes a petrified Katelyn-Sue from him. He has to struggle to remove her tiny hands from around his neck. She screams in terror as Wyker brings her up to safety.
“Mommy!” she wails at the top of her lungs. Renault cringes at the sound and blocks it out.
Another section of the track collapses and he once again narrowly avoids a potential catastrophe. The front of the train falls further over the edge. He looks at Daliance and they nod. Nothing more needs to be said.
They descend, while pieces of the track continue to fall off into the lake. The train falls further down. The train moves to the left, making a landing on the train in a straight shot impossible. Gwyneth struggles with her strength to hold the metal partition open. At one point it shuts and pins her inside. She screams out in terror and pain. “Help!” She cries.
Renault swings on his rope in order to bring it over to the train, but he is unable. She continues to cry out. Renault, with a mighty heave, pushes himself as hard as he can into the car. Finally, he grasps a hold onto a metal railing, but only with a single finger. With his considerable strength, he slowly gets a handhold on a metal rivet and swings the door back.
“Hurry!” she cries. “It hurts!”
“I know,” says Renault. “I’m not going to leave you. That’s a promise.”
The car shifts again, nearly trapping Daliance inside. He struggles to keep it open. He looks at Renault with a look of mortal terror. What the fuck do we do?
There is no time for any further thought. A large section of track collapses, sending several yards of twisted, charred metal into the lake. The train gives into gravity and falls, snapping the rope holding Renault. Renault plummets along with it.
The screams from Gwyneth echo with pain in Daliance and Wyker’s ears. Seconds later, the train hits the lake, sending a small whirlpool of water jettisoning out of it. Renault is too small to see from this height. The men look on in horror. There can be only one outcome. Renault is dead. Gwyneth and her remaining child have also perished. No one could have survived.
Wyker and Daliance don’t have the luxury of regret or sorrow. The tracks continue to fall. They ascend as fast as possible and say nothing. With the children crying for their mother, they sprint them the hell out of the danger zone. Moving clear of the bridge, more chunks of track plummet into the lake.
They look over at the drop and shake their heads in disbelief. Kilroy looks at the other men in a pleading gesture. “We must check and see if any of them survived. You ken?”
“To what purpose?�
� inquiries Daliance. “They’re dead. All of them. There’s no way they could have survived.”
“Ghange-Rhu. Do you still have a pair of hyper-oculars on you?” asks Coit.
Ghange-Rhu looks over at his bag “It would be in here, if they’re still there.” He rifles through the bag and finds a pair. He hands them to Drake.
Drake grabs them and scans the area. He adjusts them so he can see far. The massive train plunges into the lake. A large amount of bubbles rise to the surface. He searches with intent, hoping for any sign of life. A few minutes pass but nothing surfaces.
He heaves a mighty sigh and hands them back to Ghange-Rhu. With a painful, solemn expression, he shakes his head. “Nothing. Daliance is right. There’s no way he could have survived that. No one can hold their breath that long. Not even Renault.”
“What do we do now?” questions Kilroy.
“What the fuck can we do?” asks Daliance. “We’ve completed our mission. Meet at the rendezvous point.”
“Pillar’s Cove?” questions Kilroy.
“Ai,” answers Drake.
The men sigh in frustration. Sebastian hugs his sister as they continue to sob quietly in pathetic inhalations. “What of them?” asks Daliance.
“I know of someone. She’ll take care of them and ensure they are reunited with whatever family they have left.”
“Who?” questions Daliance.
“Someone that owes Renault. They remain indebted to him, even in death. Perhaps more so,” Drake says.
Daliance gives him a dubious, awkward look, as if he can’t believe he is speaking of Renault.
“Regardless of what you think of him, Daliance, the man was a champion to many. And he was loyal to a fault,” states Drake defensively.
“And in the unbelievable event Renault manages to survive?” inquires Kilroy.
The men stare at him as if he had just lost his mind.
Drake shrugs. “If he’s still alive, he’ll meet us all at the rendezvous point. Hell, nor high water won’t keep him from it.”
“And if he shows?” asks Daliance.
“Then expect a shitload of fireworks and a good dose of Tom Fuckery to boot,” answers Drake.
Chapter 19: Sanctuary
Drake makes the two-day journey to Oriza without the brethren, though he would have preferred their company.
As the bustling town comes into view, he looks over at Sebastian and Katelyn-Sue. Drake grabs his canteen from his saddle and gives the children a swig of water. Sebastian reaches for the canteen and offers it to Katelyn-Sue. She remains emotionless, almost catatonic but she allows her brother to pour the water down her throat. He wipes the excess from her mouth.
Drake gives them a stick of jerky with a forced smile. They refuse it, saying nothing, only shaking their heads. Drake can’t blame them. It is too much for them to process, especially for ones born into privilege.
Less than a half-hour later, they trot up through the main street of Oriza. The town is like other medium-sized burgeoning towns on the outskirts of the City States of Kent. Not yet occupied by the Gaulians, Oriza is nestled in an unincorporated area. Well, at least it is for now. Drake knows the situation could change.
Main Street is a dirt road with well-maintained buildings. The economy prospers, bolstered by the newly discovered copper mines in the Ghettic Mountains along the Borsiac Peninsula panhandle.
The town is pulsing with activity. Although the school ended for the day, children play kiter tag, darts, and hoppyscotch in the back alleys. They are unwilling to go home just yet. A vibrant laundry and bathing rental business does a brisk business with the plethora of new miners.
Several soot-faced miners wear greasy overalls. They carry hefty saddlebags and wander into Kate’s for a hot bath and laundering, for a half-pence. It’s the daily special. Coming in from their workshops, blacksmiths, harriers, and tanners wipe the sweat from their brows. They use a ladle to drink from a water trough at the front of the street. Their workshops are sweltering from the heat. The intensity of the hot molten lead reflects into the air. Metallurgy creates fabrications of horseshoes, rivets, doorknobs, gun parts, brackets and any other objects.
Three hotels prosper in the peaceful and well-maintained haven. The first caters to the upper class while the other two are for those with lesser means. Several citizens note the newcomers and give them a friendly nod. Drake returns the gesture. The children look off into nothingness.
The buildings’ façades range from well-maintained to immaculate, depending on the owner. But overall, this is a prosperous town. And it’s growing. Three churches cater to three different dominations of Christianity line along 1st and 2nd streets. With two general stores, one can almost purchase anything for the right price. Teddy’s Procurements, the largest one, boasts an assortment of sweet treats: chocolate, ice cream, jasper pudding, and crème-tarttery. An array of handcrafted toys amuses the fussiest of children.
And just like other towns, Oriza has its seedier elements: three brothels, four saloons and a pixie dungeon with topless staff. Although scandalous to some, the establishments are legal so long as the premises remain far from the respectable Main Street.
The town is much like any other of equal size with two notable exceptions. Slavery is outlawed. And, women run the town’s law enforcement with the same efficiency, determination, integrity, and dedication like men in other towns.
Drake makes his way toward the shariff station. This smaller building nestles next to the four-story general store. As he approaches the window, Drake finds it locked but there is a sign. The deputies and I are at Banion’s Tavern and Brothel. We’ll be back at the following time- whenever the fuck we feel like it. Shariff Bella.
His face lights up in a grin and laughs. “That’s just like Bella,” he mutters to himself.
Drake arrives at Banion’s. From the shariff station, it is a stone’s throw for a weary-eyed shariff needing a break.
He tethers his horses and notices several boisterous Terra-Gaulian soldiers talking among themselves. They share a bottle of whiskey between them. Drake looks at the two children and hesitates. Would they be safer outside or inside? Luckily, it’s decided for him.
A tall raven-haired beauty with high cheekbones, luminescent green eyes, and pigtails comes walking out of the saloon. Though she is wearing a male deputy’s clothing, her femininity is undeniable. Her loose-fitting clothing only hints at the hourglass symmetry beneath. But she wears a heavy, brooding look.
That changes when she sees Drake. Her eyes light up like a smitten schoolgirl’s. “Drake!” she yells. She runs up to him and throws her arms around him. He hugs her back. “Oh my God! Drake! You never sent word. Is Renault here? Is he coming?” She steps back, looks at him, and wills away the tears flooding her eyes.
“My God! We’ve all missed you. It’s been too long. We have a lot to catch up on.”
“It’s good to see you too.” The Terra-Gaulian soldiers look at the two curiously. They give Drake a contentious, begrudging stare-down, as if he won something they have been pining for.
“How are you, Vanessa?”
While taking sips of their whiskey, Vanessa notices the Terra-Gaulian soldiers glare at Drake. It is as if they are waiting for the moment to feel properly emboldened.
“The company around here could use an improvement. But we ladies are holding down the fort,” Vanessa states with an indignant sneer of her own.
“I cry pardon, Drake. Where are my manners?” She sees the children. “Who are these two little darlings? I guess it has been a while. You ken?” she asks, in partial jest, hinting he may have fathered them.
Drake smiles. “They’re rescues,” he says with sadness. “They’ve been through a lot.”
Vanessa holds out her hands to them. They reach their hands out to her and they shake. “We all have here, dears!” she says as she smiles.
“I’m Sebastian,” the boy says, “and this here is Katelyn-Sue. She hasn’t spoken since our mum passed.
”
Vanessa nods. “I know your story all too well,” she says as she cups Sebastian around the back of the head. She reaches out to the girl, but she stiffens in response. “You’re safe here. This here is a refuge.”
“I was hoping you could help me relocate their next of kin and reunite them,” says Drake.
“Consider it done. We are indebted to you. Always.”
“This calls for a celebration,” says Vanessa.
“Of course. In due time, set watch and warrant it,” says Drake. “But I really need to speak to Bella. It’s a matter of some urgency. Could you watch them while I go in?”
“Absolutely,” she says.
Drake walks inside. “Where’s Renault?” she asks.
With a forced smile, he turns to say, “He’d be here if he could,” he says.
Terra-Gaulian soldiers occupy at least a third of the two dozen oval tables. They yell at each other like rambunctious schoolboys while tossing back pinters of whiskey, alespritz, mead and scotch-ale, the hard spirits for those looking to get drunk in a hurry and blow off steam.
The soldiers at a nearby table talk aloud. A gorgeous, fiery redhead waitress, in a tight-fitting blue sequined dress, comes up to serve them another round. One soldier gets a little handsy and grabs her well-rounded ass. His fellow soldiers laugh at her humiliation.
She pushes away his hand and sets down another drink. As she does, two more hands reach for her ass. She pushes them away, sets down the last drink, and removes herself. A weathered old soldier grabs her and forces her on to his lap. While laughing like a giddy bastard, he licks her ample bosom and forces his hand underneath her dress.
As the old soldier reaches with his left hand, a hot, searing pain erupts inside his right hand. He cries out in excruciating pain. Seconds later, he hears a palpable snap as agony courses through his veins.
He cries out louder and rushes her in retaliation. When he moves forward, the butt of her gun connects with his forehead, producing a sizable gash. He falls to the floor unconscious.