by Chris Pike
The attack was over before Travis or I had to fire our weapons.
We moved forward to check the casualties, making sure nobody was left alive to ambush us.
Charlie offered his assessment. “The problem with quick and dirty attacks is that they are messy. Be careful of the floor. It’s slippery. Check for any usable weapons.” While I could shoot, I wasn’t proficient enough to offer an opinion on whether the guns were useable or not, so while the guys checked weapons, I kept my eyes open for any movement.
The bushes rustled and I spun in that direction, crouching down and bringing my gun up to shoot. It was dark enough to obscure my vision, and time moved in nanosecond increments. I moved my finger close to the trigger, ready to shoot. I wasn’t about to let this victory go to waste. Just as the figure emerged, I wasn’t sure whether to be ecstatic or—
“May!” The irritation in my voice was apparent.
“What? I heard the shooting stop.”
I slapped my hand to my forehead. “I could have shot you!”
“Oh,” she said, and glanced around nervously. “Next time I’ll be sure to let you know it’s me.”
I was so angry, it was all I could do to turn away.
Charlie said, “It looks like only one M-4 is usable. Who wants it?”
“I do,” May said. We all looked at her then to Charlie.
Kyle handed May the M-4. “Go back and hide behind the crates that weren’t shot up.”
“How do I use this?”
“Take the safety off and pull the trigger until whoever is shooting at you is dead.”
“Okay,” May said, without much confidence.
“Are you strong enough to hold this?”
“I am,” she said, demonstrating her hold on the weapon.
“Travis and I will get this baby moving while you guard the prize. If the train isn’t moving in five minutes, we won’t be either.”
Travis and Kyle worked their way towards the engine car. Travis chose the normal entry, while Kyle used a metal ladder to quietly sneak to the top of the railcar.
Travis positioned himself a few yards away from the engine’s door, waiting for Kyle to get into position. Kyle used sign language to direct attention to the open side window right behind the main control panel. Once Kyle secured himself on the safety rail, Travis began his run.
He tiptoed up the steps then sidestepped through the doorway. It was difficult for me to see what was happening, but from the yells and confusion, Travis had surprised a group of men. He yelled, “Hands up, everyone!” More shouts resulted, then the sound of Travis’s 1911 firing rapidly told the rest of the story as bodies thumped to the floor.
In the miniscule amount of time it took for Travis to shoot the first round, Kyle had anchored his left hand and foot on the safety railing before swinging the right side of his body toward the open engineer’s window. His P90’s suppressor was less than two feet from the back of a man’s head. He jerked the trigger then moved to sight another man.
Simultaneously, Travis and Kyle’s expert marksmanship hit the last man standing. He fell to the floor like a brick.
Without wasting any more time, Travis hit the train’s throttle, while Kyle made sure no one was running alongside the train, trying to jump on. Satisfied there were no more hitchhikers, Kyle stepped on the catwalk and headed back to the freight car.
My concentration was on Kyle until the cold end of a gun barrel was thrust against my temple.
Chapter 20
I had been so focused on Kyle I didn’t notice our car had been breached. Out of the corner of my eye, another man dressed in dark jeans and a blue Hawaiian shirt held a gun to Charlie’s head. A third man had pulled down one of the remaining crates covering May, and was using it as a chair, like it was his throne and he was a king.
The man holding a gun to my temple pushed it harder, forcing my head at an uncomfortable angle. He removed my .357 Ruger from my hand then relieved Charlie of his P90. The man put both guns on the floor.
I glanced at the seated man who was clearly in charge. He sat there, smug and confident in what was happening. He was the same man I saw earlier in the red Hawaiian shirt. He definitely was the leader, in top shape, and a man who could count on having his men do what he asked. He casually crossed his legs, tapping his foot as if he was bored. “Bring me the president.”
One of the men roughly pushed Charlie forward. He stood looking at the man who beckoned him. “So you’re behind this? Agent Rick Madden isn’t it?”
“You remembered my name. I’m impressed.”
“I know all the Secret Service men assigned to me.”
“Not well enough, obviously.” Madden rose and stepped closer to Charlie, then without provocation, gut punched the president. He grunted and bent over.
Once he recovered from the punch, Charlie straightened. “It wasn’t by accident you survived, was it?”
“I don’t leave anything for luck. I had a gas mask with me. The others didn’t.”
“You SOB. Do you know what you’ve done? The millions of people you’ve killed? You’ll hang for treason.”
“I doubt that.”
“Who’s behind this? The Russians? The Chinese? How’d they get to you?”
“Whatd’ya think?”
“Money?”
“And lots of it,” Madden replied.
“You’re stark raving mad.”
“No, I’m filthy rich.” Madden pulled a knife and stuck it to Charlie’s throat. “Now tell me how to start the pod.”
“I’ve lost the key.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. Perhaps if you don’t value your life, you might value this pretty little thing.” Madden jerked my head back by a handful of hair and put the knife to my throat. He stuck the tip of the blade into my skin, nicking it.
“Wait!” Charlie shouted. “You don’t need to do this.”
Before anybody could say anything else, Kyle took one step into the freight car and stopped dead in his tracks. His face was sweaty and haggard, and he appeared as if he had used up all his adrenaline.
“If you make a single move, I’ll slice her throat wide open,” Madden said. “Capisce?”
“Yeah,” Kyle said.
“Put your gun in the pile before this pretty thing dies.”
As Kyle slowly lowered his P90 to place it on the floor, he used the delay to flip on the safety, unnoticed except for my eyes. I could only think he did that to add a second or two in case one of the militia tried to use it on him. Since he hadn’t been searched, I guessed his 1911 was tucked in his waistband. I prayed he wouldn’t use it now, otherwise, he’d be a gonner.
Madden eyed Kyle’s P90 with curiosity, picking it up. “Glad you made the right choice. I admire capable men, so I’ll let you off here. Would you like to thank me before you go?” Madden tossed an evil grin to his two subordinates.
A few tense moments transpired, and I prepared myself for my last moments of my life. Madden was toying with us as a cat would slap around a mouse before killing it. Kyle and I locked gazes. With a subtle movement of my eyes, unnoticeable to anyone except for the person it was meant for, I silently communicated he needed to do whatever was necessary to win this battle. He returned an equally meaningful expression indicating he understood me.
“I would like to say something,” Kyle said.
“Be my guest.”
“Mayday, Mayday!”
My adrenaline redlined, and as I fought to stay calm, it occurred to me Kyle’s coded shout was intended for May, but it failed to elicit any reaction from behind the crates. My heart sank, but I’d be damned if I went down like a coward. It was up to the president and I to do something, anything.
I nodded my head ever so slightly at Kyle, giving him permission to do what he needed to do.
Two of the guards whipped around, looking in all directions, while Madden picked up Kyle’s P90. Madden leveled it at Kyle and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. A confused expression sp
read over Madden’s face until he understood Kyle had flipped on the safety.
In the millisecond it took Madden to comprehend the problem, Kyle jumped out of the car and onto the gravel.
Madden let off a burst from the P90 near where Kyle had rolled out of view.
Madden pulled the emergency stop. “Kill the prisoners!”
Charlie shoved his elbow into his guard. The man grunted, and Charlie struggled to take control of the gun.
With my tormentor’s focus on killing Kyle, and the other one struggling with the president, I saw my chance. I reached up and thrust the gun away from my head, turned, and with all my weight I shoved the man holding me toward Charlie.
Bullets whizzed by, and the guards tumbled into each other.
I stretched my body out and dove for my Ruger. Picking it up, I sighted it at my guard, who had his gun now pointed at Charlie’s back. There was no time for a perfect shot. I aimed and jerked the trigger hard twice at the man about to execute the president. The shots hit him in the chest, the force of the bullets slamming into him sending the man backwards. He hit the metal wall and crumpled. His eyes rolled into his head and he slumped sideways to the floor.
I swiveled my aim to the man struggling with Charlie.
Tunnel vision took over.
Nothing else mattered. There were no sounds to distract me. My thoughts were clear.
Carefully, I pulled the trigger, and the round blasted a hole in the last guard standing. His body jerked and he was dead before he hit the floor. The reports of a .357 Ruger being fired into what equated to a thick metal can caused my brain to scramble around in my head.
During the moment it took me to gain my wits, Madden made a wild jump out of the train. He landed solidly and took off running.
Kyle rolled out from under the train holding his 1911, jumped up, and sighted it on Madden, but before Kyle could shoot, Madden disappeared on the other side of the train and into the darkness.
As Kyle was about to chase after Madden, I called out, “Don’t. Let him go. We need you here.”
“No. I need to get him.”
“Stay here. I need you to stay with me.” Before Kyle answered me, a thought crossed my mind.
May.
She was behind the crates when the bullets went flying.
I rushed to where she was hiding and pushed a crate off her. She was face down on the floor, the M-4 by her side, her hair covering her face. She was so still I was afraid to touch her. I couldn’t lose her, and a feeling of revulsion welled in my mid-section. I sat down and put my hand on her shoulder, brushing the hair out of her face. My little sister—
Her eyes popped open.
“May? Are you alright?” Her face was flushed and sweat beaded her brow.
“I think so.” She pushed herself up into a sitting position and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I thought you were dead.”
Her gaze went to the rifle. “That’s a stupid rifle. It won’t work. I tried and tried and kept pulling the trigger to help everybody out, but nothing happened. It’s so hot, my arm was killing me where the snake bit me. I guess I fainted.”
I laughed. “You missed all the action.”
“Oh.” She picked up the rifle and held it on her lap. “Why won’t this stupid thing work?”
I glanced at the rifle. “Because the safety is on.”
“What! I kept pushing it in like Dad told me when he showed me on the .22. I thought they all worked the same.”
“You have to flick the safety down to fire the rifle.”
“What?” May said, exasperated.
“Thankfully, everybody is okay.” I helped her up and we skirted around the crates to join Kyle and Charlie. “You need to learn how to use weapons, otherwise I might shoot you myself.”
“You would?”
“No, silly. I’d never do that, but I am going to give you lessons.”
“I guess I should’ve gone with you and Dad when you went shooting.”
“That’s in the past. It’s never too late to learn.”
We joined Kyle and Charlie who had moved the bodies of the dead men and placed them against a wall.
“Where’s Tommy?” I asked.
“Last time I saw him,” Kyle replied, “he was right behind me when we ran out of the brush.”
“Hey, everybody!” Tommy hoisted himself into the car. “Wow! Look at all the blood on the floor. Y’all kicked some ass in here.”
Kyle moved close to his brother. “Did you see a man running?”
“No.”
“He had to have run right past you.”
“There wasn’t anybody.”
“Where were you then?” Kyle’s voice was tight with anger.
“I decided to stay in the bushes. Nobody knew I was there.”
“What?” Kyle spat.
“If anybody escaped, I planned to take them out.”
“You’re disgusting,” Kyle said.
“What? I had your back and you don’t even appreciate it. I thought I was doing you a favor.”
Like a bolt of lightning appearing out of dark clouds, Kyle balled his fist and socked his brother in the jaw. Tommy fell flat to the floor.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tommy rubbed his chin. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because you’re a coward.” Kyle stood over his brother, staring him down.
“Why are you giving me so much grief? Travis isn’t here. Take out your anger on him.”
“He’s in the engine room, holding it down himself, making sure nobody takes it over.”
“Oh.” Tommy pushed himself up from the floor.
Kyle didn’t budge. “Next time, if you don’t fight, you’re no brother of mine. Understand?”
“Some thanks I get trying to help you out. Believe me. There won’t be a next time.”
Chapter 21
“I can’t believe we made it out of there alive,” I commented.
Kyle was sitting slumped in one of the chairs in the engine room. I’d taken possession of the chair across the narrow aisle, and May was in the chair beside me, trying to sleep. Tommy and Charlie stood guard, holding weapons, searching for other marauders intent on killing us. I looked upon Kyle with admiration for the bravery he showed, and for the skills and mindset it took him to do what he did.
The train jostled and pitched, rocking side to side. None of us wanted to talk.
“Travis? How much further?” I asked.
“Unless anything else happens, we’ll be on the far side of Waco in less than an hour.”
I stretched to peer over the dashboard. The bright lights from the train illuminated the tracks, and I followed them until they disappeared into the night. The trees growing on the fence line along one side of the tracks blocked my view. The four-lane highway was visible to the left. Cars and trucks had crashed into one another or had run off the road when the germs from the cloud descended upon their drivers.
A pack of coyotes illuminated by the train’s headlights tore at a corpse, and I watched the grisly sight in horrified fascination of the pack mentality. The strongest coyote ate first at the prime cuts, while the weaker ones darted around, stealing a piece of flesh here and there.
I couldn’t get the scene out of my mind.
The train rumbled along the tracks, and the meaning of time slipped out of my control. I thought about my uncle and how’d he react to seeing us. I’d have to tell him about my father and mother not making it.
Uncle Grant had been divorced for a couple of years, and had one son who was a year younger than me. Since his family and mine lived in separate cities, we rarely did anything with his family. I wasn’t even sure where my cousin Ethan was, but guessed he was with his mother when the attack happened. In that case, I’d probably never see him again.
“We’ll be in Waco in a few minutes,” Travis said. “Be ready for anyone trying to highjack the train. Kill them if need be.”
The train slowed as we approached Waco, and
Travis cut the headlights, letting the glow of scattered streetlights guide him.
The wood frame houses in the neighborhood showed signs of severe neglect. Shutters hung at odd angles. Paint had peeled away, revealing the gray rotting wood. Toys were haphazardly scattered about. A bicycle had been abandoned in a yard. Several cars were on blocks. Whatever civilization had been here before was nowhere in sight. Even chained dogs so common in these types of neighborhoods were missing.
When the Union Pacific train came to the exchange on the west side of downtown Waco, we began a wide loop to the southwest.
“Travis, what are we doing? We need to keep going northwest. Why are we going south?”
“You’re quite observant, Ella. While you were sleeping, President Sayer asked me if I could take you as close as possible to your ranch. I said it might be possible since the new line southwest of here connecting UP to BNSF might be open, although I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. He wanted to try it. He said it was the least we could do for you and your sister, and the other guys. You all showed incredible bravery back there,” he said. “Especially you and Kyle.” Travis made eye contact with me. “Ella, take it from me. You’re a natural leader, you just don’t know it yet.”
“I don’t want that responsibility.”
“It’s not yours to want or not to want. People will be looking to you for guidance and sound decisions. Get used to making them.”
I glanced at President Sayer, who was oblivious to our conversation. He was intently scanning the countryside.
“What do you plan to do, Travis?”
“Once I drop off you, May, Kyle, and Tommy, I’ll keep heading north about thirty miles to where I live so I can check on my wife and daughters. The train passes within half a mile of our house. If they are alive, I’m not sure what I’ll do because the president needs me to get him to Washington. I told him I would, and besides, the pod is on the train, and I don’t want to be responsible for guarding it. It’s just that…”
I waited for Travis to continue. When he didn’t, I asked, “What is it?”
