by Logan Jacobs
I needed to get closer, I realized, and I needed to do so before they could finish whatever they were doing. I called out to Barnaby as I started to edge around the fight, though the brawlers had spread out and we found ourselves moving further away just to get around them. One of the locals spotted us and started in our direction, but a deep growl from Barnaby followed by a few quick snaps of his teeth, and the woman hung back, though she did point us out to some of her companions.
It looked like I was going to have to fire on the protesters after all, but as I lifted the gun, a sound louder than thunder shattered the scene, and a moment later, snow and dirt exploded into the air just in front of the train. The ground shook beneath our feet, and everyone crouched down until the shaking stopped. When the sound died away and the earth was still, the protesters cheered again as the crew behind them scurried to load another shell.
“Come on, Barnaby!” I yelled to the dog as I started to run toward the giant gun. “We have to stop them!”
Chapter 14
Our run toward the giant gun did not go unnoticed. I saw several of the locals peel away from their fight with the linemen to give chase, which had to be one of the slowest chases to ever take place as we both got bogged down in the snow. Only Barnaby successfully figured out how to move quickly by leaping across the snow, an easy feat to accomplish with four legs.
But Barnby was torn between two goals, and only turned toward the approaching locals after one of them used a sling to hit the dog in his hind leg. The dog yelped as the rock smacked into him, then bared his teeth and lunged toward the protesters.
The protesters weren’t just armed with slings and rocks either. I saw one of the men, a chubby man with a knit cap, wave a blade toward the dog, then swing at the canine as Barnaby leapt among the locals. Barnaby turned to snap at the man’s hand, but one of the other protesters, a woman with a veil over the lower half of her face, charged in from the other side.
“Assholes!” I screamed as I raised the rifle. “No one messes with my dog!”
I took aim at the woman’s head before she could launch her own attack on the dog. The rifle crack sounded sharp in the cold air, and even though I’d fired the gun earlier, I saw several of the protesters jump in surprise at the sound. The woman with the veil reeled backwards just as Barnaby turned to face her. He snapped at her wrist, but she was already slumping to her knees with a bright red spot between her eyes.
Served the bitch right.
The dog whirled again as another local approached with a blade, and I saw the chubby man who had first swiped at the dog try to move in closer. No one seemed to have noticed or cared that the woman with the veil had fallen sideways into the snow, or that a trail of blood flowed from the hole in her head to the ice beneath her.
“Fools,” I muttered as I raised the rifle one more time, this time at the chubby man.
The rifle pressed against my shoulder as the bullet raced down the barrel, and then the acrid smell of gunsmoke filled my nostrils. There was a glimpse of smoke, and then the shell was on its way, on a clear path to its target. The chubby man must have guessed he was next, but by the time he heard the crack of the rifle, it was too late. Despite the layers of clothing and fat, I saw the chubby man stumble and then drop his blade as he grabbed for his chest.
The man standing next to him, a younger guy with a mop of uncut brown hair, tried to grab the chubby man as he started to fall, but the chubby man’s weight nearly brought them both down. The young man let the chubby man go as Barnaby started to snap at people and left more than a few bloody bites on unprotected arms and legs.
I hated to leave the dog unprotected, but another explosion roared through the valley, and I saw the belch of fire and smoke that accompanied the shell this time as the locals took aim with their own gun once again. The ground shook as yet more snow and dirt leapt up into the sky, and I saw that the second shell was even closer to the train.
I started to push my way through the snow again, determined to reach the gun before they could fire it again. I heard someone shout a warning behind me and then Barnaby’s bark. I didn’t turn around, even when I heard Barnaby’s bark cut off in the middle, and kept my eyes on the team that worked to load another shell.
It was obvious they each had a specific assignment when it came to loading the gun, and the trick, I decided, was to start with the person whose job was the most important. I debated which job that would be as I struggled toward the gun, then finally settled on whichever person happened to be doing something when I was finally close enough to take a shot.
That unlucky person was the man who was aiming the giant gun in preparation for the next shot. I drew up before he could finish the adjustments, and then I fired while he still leaned over the barrel. A woman on the crew screamed as the man’s head whipped backwards while his body tumbled forward.
“We need protection!” the man who placed the shell in the gun cried out. “That one has a gun!”
Before I could turn to look for more attackers, I heard the quick pop of the Glock followed by several screams.
“They’ve got guns!” someone else yelled. “The mages were right! They’re unholy!”
“Forget the guns!” a deep voice implored. “Keep firing the cannon! Destroy the train!”
Well, at least I knew what the thing was called now. The cannon crew hesitated but quickly leapt back into action. Before I could aim at the next person, a man with a humped back pulled a cord from the cannon. A moment later, the cannon boomed as flame and smoke shot forth. The shell screeched across the sky and then pounded into the ground.
I didn’t wait to see who did what next. I fired at the closest person, a woman with a red braid, and saw the back of her head disappear in a red mist. Before her body even hit the ground, I turned toward the man who had been standing next to her. He held a long pole in his hands, but when the woman went down, he dropped the pole and started to back away.
I fired again, and the man swayed on his feet before he tried to reach around to his back. As he brought his hand to his face, I knew what he would find. Lots of blood. A stunned expression crossed the man’s face as he studied his hand, and then he sank down next to the cannon with the side of his face pressed against one wheel.
The next person I had a clear shot at was on the far side of the cannon with another long pole. He laughed as his companions went down, then pointed the pole at me in a dare as he started to dance away from the cannon. The rest of the crew had all slunk to the far side and dropped out of sight, but the pole man seemed certain that I couldn’t hit him.
I waited until he danced back closer to the cannon and opened fire again. I knew it was on the outer edge of the rifle’s range, and I had decided I would call up an M-1 after this shot, so it was hard to tell who was more surprised, me or the dancing man, when something thick and red started to dribble from beneath his jacket.
“Got you!” I hissed as the man watched his blood start to color the ice between his feet.
I started to move around to the other side of the cannon, and was joined by Barnaby. The dog understood what I wanted to do, and he leapt past me even as one of the crew members tried to reload the cannon. The silver dog landed in their midst with a snarl and bared his teeth, and two people stood up and ran off without even looking back. By the time I circled around the cannon, only Barnaby and a woman curled up in a ball were left.
“Get back to town,” I urged the woman. “Go back to your home.”
The woman peeked at me from between her fingers, and I saw her eyes widen as she took in the rifle.
“I won’t shoot you,” I assured her. “As long as you leave and keep going.”
She slowly unfolded herself, and I could finally see that she was close to my age, with a dusting of freckles across her fair skin and a stripe of blue in her straw colored hair.
“Barnaby,” I added when the woman turned frightened eyes on the Weimaraner.
The canine growled at the woman, but trott
ed over to my side where he remained. The woman stood up slowly and edged past us, then started to run back along the section of rail that the locals had cleared before the train arrived. Unfortunately, that cleared section also made it easier for the train haters to haul their cannon out to the battle, but at least they wouldn’t be able to fire any more shells at the train.
The linemen, I saw, were holding their own against the locals, despite the fact that they had already been involved in an earlier fight and had to repair the track. One by one, the locals started to notice that the cannon wasn’t firing any more shells, and I saw several peek over in the direction of the giant gun. When the local fighters realized that I was the only person still standing by the cannon, they started to slink away, one by one.
The local authorities started to arrive as well now that the booming cannon had gone quiet. I knew I needed to get the rifle out of sight, but the cannon was too tempting. I wondered if it really was just a giant gun, and I reached it to touch it quickly before the police spotted it. I felt a tingle in my hand, like I did with any new gun that I touched, but it was muted in some way. I could picture it, and almost feel it start to form in the air around me, but nothing appeared.
Maybe I wasn’t powerful enough to summon it yet?
Which was just as well, since the police had arrived and started to round up the members of the mob. I quietly slipped back toward the passenger train with the rifle hidden beneath my jacket. Sorcha joined me, as did Freya, who moved quietly along the roof of the cars.
“So, I touched the cannon,” I said quietly to Sorcha.
“And?” she prodded.
“It sort of felt like a gun,” I mused. “And when I tried to picture one, I could almost feel it starting to form, but then nothing happened.”
“It’s quite a bit larger than a gun,” she noted. “And I’m sure a good deal more complicated to fire.”
“I think the principle is the same, though,” I replied.
“Maybe with time and practice,” she said thoughtfully. “We really don’t know the full extent of your powers yet.”
“It would be hard to carry across the country,” I chuckled. “And I think it could only be fired once, and then it would disappear since it only seems to hold one shell at a time.”
“That could be an older version,” she pointed out. “They might have found a way to load more than one… shell later on.”
“You’re probably right,” I agreed as we arrived at the last car. “But I think I’ll stick with guns for now.”
“That’s probably wise,” the Irish mage responded as she climbed up to the platform and gave me a smile.
We stood outside for a moment longer until Freya rejoined us, then the three of us slipped back inside the passenger car.
“What the hell was that?” Billy demanded as soon as we opened the door. Somehow, the young guard had made it to the front row of seats, and I could still see the outline of his face where he had pressed it against the glass for a better view.
“A cannon,” I answered. “The good news is that the train is okay. I couldn’t tell if they hit any of the rails or not.”
“Luckily, Hex was able to get control of the cannon until the police arrived,” Freya noted. “So if the rail is okay, we should be moving soon.”
Billy goggled at us, but I could understand why. Heck, just a week ago, I probably would have had the same expression, but giant guns and crazed mutants were beginning to seem normal after I’d activated my magic.
“Did I hear you say cannon?” Darwin asked as he stuck his head out from the bunk room.
“You did,” I agreed. “At least, that’s what the locals called it. It looked like a really big gun barrel on wheels.”
“That would be a cannon,” Darwin sighed. “But the police arrived?”
“Eventually,” I stated. “We thought it was best if we came back and tucked our own guns out of sight for now.”
“Should we turn Gerald over to them now?” Sorcha asked.
“We could,” Darwin acknowledged as he glanced behind him. “But I think we’ve decided it would be best if the railroad handled this internally. Especially since guns were involved.”
“Who’s we?” Freya asked.
“Me and Armin,” Darwin replied.
“Who?” I asked.
“Me,” the older security guard said as he stepped around Darwin. “If Mr. Riley and the other owners want to turn this into a police matter, they can do that. But I think life for everyone who was on the train today would be much easier if we turn Gerald over to management. That way, no one has to explain how Hank was killed or how we fought off those mutants.”
“But what about Hank’s body?” I asked.
“And Hank’s family?” Sorcha added.
“Management will know what to do,” Armin assured us. “Everything will be taken care of.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” I murmured.
“I’m not a fan myself, but if you want to keep moving west, this is the only way you can do it,” Darwin offered. “If the Willsport police find out about the guns, we’ll be stuck here for days at the very least just answering questions. More than likely, we’ll all be arrested and the Magesterium will be notified.”
“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “We turn Gerald over to the railroad.”
“Besides, I’m sure Joker will have some questions of his own he’d like answered,” Armin pointed out. “And he’ll want to make some counterplans of his own for whatever his rivals are planning.”
“Sounds like the war is just getting started,” Sorcha commented.
Armin shrugged and ducked back inside the bunk room.
“Is this really the way you want to do it?” I asked Darwin.
“I think it’s best,” he admitted in a grudging tone. “Though it bothers me to no end to leave it in the hands of the railroad company.”
“Gerald may wish we had turned him over to the police after Mr. Riley gets done with him,” Freya added.
“Unless the police were to call the Magesterium in to investigate the gun,” I mused.
“At which point Gerald would probably tell them about all the other guns that were on the train today,” Sorcha pointed out. “Darwin’s right. We need to let Joker Riley and his partners deal with this.”
While we mulled that over, the rest of the passengers started to trickle back. Shelton was one of the first, and he proudly sported a black eye and bloody knuckles. The linemen didn’t fare much better, and even Ahmed had a bruise on his forehead when he finally stepped back inside. Armin appeared from the bunkroom long enough to do another head count, and then a few moments later, the train started to move forward again.
Since we were so close to Willsport, the engineer kept the train at a more sedate pace, though we easily outran the crowd of mounted police and the people they had arrested. The gate we passed through on our way to the station was so new that the wood hadn’t darkened yet and the scars where the stone had been cut were still evident.
People lined the rail line as we pulled into the city, and a round of cheers went up as we chugged past homes and businesses. With a final pull on the whistle, the train slipped slowly past the last few buildings and eased its way into the station. Another group of men were already on the platform where they stamped their feet and blew on their hands while they waited for the train to finally stop. The engineer gave one short toot, and then the men swept into the cargo boxes to start unloading. The passengers moved just as quickly, and the banker and the surveyor led the charge as the linemen started to pile off the train.
“Armin’s going to find the local chief of security,” Darwin whispered. “I told him we’d stay here until he gets back.”
“I’ll grab the horses,” Freya offered. “I see they’re starting to unload the animals and I don’t want someone else to try and claim them. I’ll meet you outside the station.”
“And I’ll get Billy off the train,” Sorcha offered.
“There’s an inn nearby where the railroad has rooms for the employees. I’ll make sure he gets there.”
“I’m sure it won’t take Armin that long to find the chief,” I pointed out.
“It may not take him long to find him, but I’m sure it will require a long conversation just to get him here, and an even longer one to explain what needs to be done,” Sorcha replied. “And I don’t feel like participating in that.”
“But we may need your skills,” I pointed out. “What if the security guy wants to turn everyone over to the Magesterium?”
“Then he probably wouldn’t work for Joker Riley,” Freya snickered. “You two are big boys, I’m sure you can handle this.”
I started to protest again, mostly because I didn’t feel like hanging around on the train any longer, either, but the women both smiled and kissed us goodbye, then collected all of the gear and joined the line of passengers heading for the exit with Billy stuck between them. Darwin and I finally returned to the bunk, where Gerald sat with his face pressed against the glass and a morose expression on his face.
By the time Armin returned the window was completely fogged over from Gerald’s breathing, and Darwin and I were staring idly at the walls. The local security chief for the railroad was actually a woman with a long thick braid of orange hair and dozens of frown lines around her lips and forehead, all on full display as she stared at us from the door. Armin peered over her shoulder and tried to give us a reassuring smile, though he really looked like he wanted to run away and never look back.
“This is Audra Bester,” Armin announced from behind Audra’s shoulder. “She’s in charge of security here in Willsport.”
“Is it true?” Audra demanded. “Someone was killed on the train? And not by mutants?”
Darwin and I looked over at Gerald, who slowly turned his head enough to look at Audra.
