Horror Express

by David O'Hanlon

  Then he simply didn’t exist anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Saxton lifted the access panel with a grunt and flipped it out of his way. Immediately beyond the iron plate sat the coupler. Wells laid on the floor of the opposite car, reaching into the gap to disconnect the hydraulics while Saxton worked the pin from the coupler with the fire ax. Wells sat up and whistled sharply.

  Mountie Earl Hicks leaned out of the window. The wind battered his face, and ice particles started freezing in his hair instantly. He signaled a volunteer on the roof with the pocket light Saxton had given him. The disgruntled passenger twisted the long pole in its socket to slow the cars manually.

  Saxton watched the coupler lazily open. “You would think they would make this much more difficult. Anyone could separate these things.”

  “Agreed.” Wells stood up and tried to step across.

  But Saxton pushed him back with the ax handle. “Sorry mate, but you’re not coming.”

  “To hell with you, Alex.” He charged forward and met the tip of the handle again, this time falling on to his rear.

  “Irina needs a real doctor with her. I’ll finish this. That damned thing isn’t leaving this train. You have my word, James.”

  The coupler came apart with a sharp clank, and Saxton gave Wells a polite nod as he turned away from his only friend. He could hear the umbilical connector tearing, letting in the screeching winds as the cars grew further apart. There was a monster ahead and it needed killing. The creature had eluded him so far, but now he knew what it was and who it was. It wouldn’t be able to hide from him this time. Maybe it was the Devil or an extraterrestrial horror from some unknown world. It didn’t matter. He would stop it, because he had to. It was up to him and him alone—

  The brogues hit the floor behind him and clattered forward. He turned to see James Wells stumbling toward him. He caught his friend by the lapels to keep him from falling. He started to protest, but Wells’ knuckles sank into his solar plexus and he collapsed in a wheezing heap at the doctor’s feet.

  “Don’t ever presume to leave me out of a suicide mission ever again, you bell-end.”

  Wells walked to the door and signaled Hicks. The Mountie threw the elephant rifle with all his might. It twisted through the moonlight. Wells stretched quickly to catch it. The rifle bounced off his palm and away before his arthritic hand could close around it. He watched in horror as their only weapon struck the ground. Wells saw its stock splinter in the pale light, before it disappeared completely.

  “I’m sorry, doctor,” Hicks called out. “I hadn’t thought it would be so heavy.”

  Wells ran his fingers through his hair and leaned on the doorjamb. “Damn.”

  “That was a cheap shot.” Saxton got up shakily and braced himself on the nearest bench. “Even for you, James.”

  “Possibly.” Wells slammed the door shut. “Do you have the pistol I gave you?”

  Saxton removed it from his pocket and then Wells removed it from his hand.

  “Excellent.”

  Saxton looked at the ax and groaned. “I suppose this will have to do.”

  “I’m a better shot, besides,” Wells squeezed Saxton’s shoulder, “the strength of the wolf, is the pack.”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Saxton gave Wells a reassuring smile. “Let’s go kill this fiend.”

  “With the two of us, this should be quite simple really.” Wells proceeded to the door.

  Saxton stopped in his tracks. “You just had to say something like that, didn’t you?”

  ***

  The two Mounties trudged through the snow as fast as they could. The train’s lights could be seen coming around the bend, and they had to get to the switch quickly. Andy, the bespectacled one, push himself with everything he had until he reached the shed. Ernst arrived a minute behind him and collapsed against the wooden building. His heaving breath steamed in front of him and fogged Andy’s glasses as he tried to help his comrade up.

  “Get the door, quickly,” Andy told him.

  Ernst nodded tiredly and pushed the rickety door open. The hinges squealed, and something moved rapidly through the darkness. Something shimmered, and Ernst screamed a breathless screech more akin to a little girl’s than a hardened constable of the Mounted Police. He stumbled backwards and fell into the snow. Andy swung the lantern inside as best he could without putting himself in danger.

  “What is it Ernst? What do you see?”

  Ernst managed to stand up, but refused to move. Instead he shook his head viciously from side-to-side. “Nuh-uh,” he finally said.

  Andy leaned in and gulped in terror. Razor-sharp claws dragged across the frozen dirt floor and saliva shimmered off the teeth. The rasping bark echoing around the dark room. He leaned back out and shook his head along with his partner.

  “I think the train is just shit out of luck, Ernst.”

  “We have to turn the switch. Those folks are going to die if we don’t, but I mean how?”

  “It’s right in front of you, Ernst. Shoot the damn beast and get on with it.”

  Ernst started to unsling his rifle and froze. “I think it heard you. It’s staring right at me, Andy.”

  “All the more reason to shoot it.”

  “What if I miss? They ain’t exactly the friendly sort. Or what if shooting it only makes it angry? I mean, gee-jolly, that’s the biggest darned one I’ve ever seen.”

  Andy poked his head around the corner again and the beast snapped its head towards him. “Yessir, it’s a real monster that one. I don’t think it’s going to let us pick it up and take it back to barracks, though. Just aim for the head, like the Captain taught you.”

  The creature barked again and Andy felt a warm trickle down his leg.

  Ernst eased the rifle into position and took aim. Then the wolverine burst forward, snarling, enraged. It lunged for Ernst’s leg and tore at his calf, driving him into the snow and continuing the mauling.

  Andy dipped into the shed and slammed the door to drown out his partner’s screams. He still had a job to do. The switch was frozen solid, just like Johnnie had predicted. Andy worked quickly, pouring oil from his lantern into the control and setting it ablaze with the wick. It burned brilliantly, for a moment, before the melting ice started to extinguish the flames. Andy fueled the dying fire again—he just needed it to melt enough to break it.

  Ernst’s screams became more panicked and spurred him to move faster. He grabbed the handle and beat the control until the ice shattered. The rumble of the train drew closer. If he failed to flip the wye-turnout, everyone would die. He jammed the bar into its socket and pulled as hard as it could. It wouldn’t budge. The train’s headlamp flickered through the icy windows and sparkles danced around him as he laid back with all his weight. The train barreled past the shed, and Andy screamed in anger.

  He was too late.

  The train zoomed through the turnout and continued on its path to certain death. The switch gave out and clanked into position. Andy fell to the floor. He stared at the ceiling, sobbing. Ernst wasn’t screaming anymore. Everyone on the train was going to die. He was a failure and hadn’t done anything but trap himself in a toolshed with a man-killing wolverine outside. Then he heard the rumble of steel wheels grinding on iron rails.

  He scrambled to the window but couldn’t see through the ice. He smashed it with his elbow and squinted into the darkness. He screamed with excitement as most of cars hit the turnout and diverted to safety. The engine continued chugging along the main line to certain doom, but at least the passengers were safe.

  He took his hat off and pressed it to his chest, taking a moment to mourn poor Johnnie.

  Andy turned and slid down the wall with his tears still pouring warmly along his cheeks, but now they were tears of joy. It was sad that Ernst hadn’t made it, but his death had meant something. They saved all those people, and that’s what really mattered. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and sighed. Something huffed in the dark corner of the shed. H
e dabbed the tears from his eyes and saw the twinkle of eye shine. Three kits rushed out of the corner, teeth bared and stomachs growling.

  Andy sobbed loudly.

  The kits chewed louder.

  ***

  The door swung open and Wells rushed in with the pistol held high. Saxton came in right behind him with the ax cocked over his shoulder. They had moved everyone back to the compartment cars for safety before cutting them loose, leaving only two open sleepers, the lounger, the crew car, and the coal car attached to the engine. With Kazan and his men in the crew car, that gave them plenty of cushion to get the others to safety should the crazy Cossack fail.

  They stormed into the lounger and paused immediately. Kazan leaned against the bar on an elbow. He bit the tip off a cigar and spat it to the floor. He popped the cigar between his bleeding lips and gnawed at it thoughtfully. The corners of his mouth were split open, like a permanent smile. Bruises were already darkening on his bald, pale head. His once rosy nose was smashed and contorted. His top hung open, exposing his powerful torso. Even through the thick, coarse hair, more purple-black contusions were visible.

  “Gentlemen,” he managed a grin around the stogie, “I’ve been waiting for you.” He let the crimson blouse fall to the floor. “More correctly, we’ve been waiting.”

  Marion Petrovski’s foot banged against the floor, drawing the Englishmen’s eyes to his corpse. It twitched again, scuffing its heel against the hardwood. The body sprang up morbidly, spilling pooled blood from the Count’s mouth down the front of his smoking jacket. Wells and Saxton exchanged glances. The door to the crew car swung open and Mounties began to pile in. Each one’s eyes were burned white. Blood dried on their mouths, ears, and noses from where the vile thing had feasted on their memories.

  “You were right, gentlemen. I can maintain more than one host. It hadn’t really occurred to me, but you humans are limitless in your imaginations. Soon, there will only be me.” Kazan tilted his head, watching the windows. He applauded slowly. “The train is gaining speed. You’ve disconnected the other cars. How heroic. Gilgamesh and his Enkidu. Lancelot and Arthur.” Kazan pursed his ruined lips. “Or is it Hansel and Gretel?

  “Dear Lord, he’s going to talk us to death. James, please shoot him.”

  Kazan held up a cautionary finger. “You should have.”

  Wells snapped the pistol high and fired, but not before one of the revenants could lunge in front of Kazan. Pieces of skull pelted the Captain’s unblinking face. The bullet, and brains, struck the mirrored wall. Kazan pushed away from the bar as the rest of the reanimated corpses swarmed around Saxton and Wells. He tossed the cigar to the floor, scooped the bearskin coat from a bench and stalked toward the door.

  “I do hope you survive, Mr. Saxton. I look forward to wearing your face when I catch up with the sweet Countess. She is quite important in this new endeavor of mine.”

  Johnnie Voss’ mammoth frame pushed through the door and Kazan gave him a hard slap on the shoulder.

  “By the by, I’ve learned to drive a train. Not that it matters. Our mutual acquaintance here informs me we’ll all be crashing soon. Afterwards, I’ll be presumed dead and long gone by the time the Mounties dig through the rubble. You’re almost out of time, gentlemen.”

  The Captain whistled “O Canada” as he shut the door behind him. The latch clicked into place and the revenants shot forward like horses out of the gate. Wells fired into the group, but they didn’t slow as the bullets tore through vital tissue. He pulled the trigger until the hammer clicked repeatedly on the empty chamber. The ghouls formed a circle around them. Wells dropped the empty pistol and put up his fists. Saxton nodded resolutely and wrung the axhandle in his fists.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kazan watched through the small window as the corpses surrounded the Englishmen. They were fingers of a hand. Still, he hadn’t tried to control more than one host since before this world. Hopefully, they would provide enough distraction to finish making preparations. The train crashing was not a part of its plan, but it was an unavoidable reality. According to Johnnie, the tunnel was less than fifteen minutes away. Kazan stormed through the crew car and opened the access panel in the gangway. The British had severed the cars to protect the other passengers from him. It was only logical to do the same.

  Kazan knelt and unhooked the hydraulics. His powerful fist gripped the pin and muscles bulged as he worked it loose of the first latch. Then he stopped. If the cars were separated too soon, the British might just jump off and then tell the authorities about him. Kazan’s body had taken a horrible beating, and it stood out plenty to begin with. He growled in frustration and shoved the pin back into place. It was better to kill them face to face.

  Or was it.

  The animal mind was a simple tool, just a reliquary for experiences. But the human mind was something else. It had feelings. They augmented actual knowledge, even forbade it, for those unquantifiable responses. He hadn’t meant to absorb them, nor could he process them so easily. It was all so muddled—those feelings from the previous hosts, clouded a once clear consciousness. Nothing made sense, except for one thing.

  He needed to kill Saxton and Wells with his own hands.

  He barreled through the door and pulled the fur coat tight against the frozen wind on the exposed coal car. Millenia in the ice gave one a special kind of hatred for the cold. He would find a place where it never snowed and remake the world in his image. He found the shovel and quickly filled two pails. If this was going to work, the train was going to have to crash a lot sooner.

  ***

  Saxton’s ax split Petrovski’s skull and lodged deep into his chest.

  “Well there’s a silver lining, James.” He tugged at the ax but it held firm.

  “What’s that?” Wells asked, struggling with the Mountie named Hudson.

  “I got to see the Count die twice now.”

  “That’s really quite lovely, Alex.” Wells headbutted Hudson. “Can we kill them all and then discuss it?”

  Saxton tried dislodging his weapon once more, but the ghouls surrounded him too quickly. He abandoned it, driving one of the Mounties into the bar instead and slugging him across the jaw before kicking his legs from underneath him. He moved quickly, scooping a stool up and using it like a lion tamer to keep the undead at bay.

  A cold, powerful hand clutched the back of his neck and another gripped his belt. Before he could react, he and the stool were airborne and crashing into the mirror behind the bar. Liquors and glass shards assaulted him as the bottles toppled around him like hail stones. The alcohol found its way into all his cuts and set his nerves ablaze.

  The titanic form of Johnnie the engineer leaned over the bar and snorted at the fallen professor. Mounties came in around the bar from either side. The two crimson-clad zombies grabbed bottles from the remaining shelves and bashed them together—the jagged points glimmered in the yellow lamp light.

  Saxton stood up slowly and felt the pinch of muscle tightening around glass. He grimaced as he drew the four-inch sliver out from along his ribs and let it fall to floor. The fumes of cognacs, vodkas, whiskeys, and other assorted liquors swirled around his nose and stung his eyes. He could feel the fluids soaking into his jacket. He looked at each of the walking corpses to either side of him and then back to Johnnie.

  “Now’s hardly the time for propriety.” He waved them to attack. “Let’s get it over with.”

  One of the ghouls lunged forward, slashing with both broken bottles. Saxton brought his arms up close to his face. The jagged edges were no match for the soaked tweed and slid across them harmlessly. Saxton kicked him away, sending him tumbling over the barstool. The other man thrusted, and Saxton punched the Mountie in the shoulder. The arm separated from the socket with a wet pop. Saxton slammed the man’s face into the edge of the bar. The bones cracked on the first blow and collapsed on the second, leaving a sticky mess on the polished ebony.

  Then Johnnie dragged him over the bar by his la
pels. Glass shattered and wind howled, causing the behemoth to pause. Even Saxton instinctively looked up at the commotion. Wells fixed his hair and smiled at the remaining two revenants in front of him. Having presumably thrown another from the window. Hudson was on the floor with a brogue-shaped dent in his forehead.

  “Quit dawdling, Alex. You can’t expect me to do all the work.” Wells moved like a man in his twenties as he danced around one of the monstrosities, firing off a series of jabs to the face. He shoved the two creatures together in a jumble.

  Saxton kicked both of Johnnie’s knees and sent him toppling over. The Mountie he’d left behind scurried over the bar and pounced on him like a rabid monkey. Saxton seized the man’s wrists, keeping both makeshift weapons at bay, just inches from his face. He used his long legs to roll the snarling ghoul over and headbutted him between the eyes. The Mountie stopped resisting, freezing instantly from the blow. Saxton jumped up and backpedaled away.

  “James!” he shouted. “Hit them in the head. It seems to break the connection with the parasite.”

  “Obviously.” Wells cracked one in the forehead with a chair leg and it froze in place while he maneuvered around it. “What do you think I’ve been doing over here?”

  “And you didn’t think to share this information?” Saxton leaped into the air and came down with both heels on the fallen Mountie’s face. Brain matter gushed around the wood heels of his balmorals.

  “The one I shot in the head stayed down. I figured that was a fairly substantial clue, Alex.” Wells beat on one of the fiends. Fluids splattered his face and the walls as he clubbed feverishly.

  Johnnie rushed in like a bull, goring Saxton with a broad shoulder and lifting him off his feet. The engineman charged onward, slamming Saxton into the panoramic window with a crash. Saxton felt the glass give and then the frozen teeth of the Canadian winds chewing through his wet clothes. Johnnie toppled past him—the steel wheels gliding through his bulk with ease. Then the world went upside down as Professor Saxton fell from the speeding train.