Railroad! Collection 2 (The Three Volume Omnibus)

by Tonia Brown

  “Wrong question,” Rex said. “The real question you must ask yourself is this: Did the professor’s science adequately hold those dog soldiers together long enough to produce the bounty of furry trophies you see before you, or am I the kind of man who would seek out a dozen dogs of matching breeds, then cut off their tails and deliver them to you in person, just to make a point?”

  When Dodger first heard the tales of Rex from poor Clemet and the others, he reckoned the commander was a maniac. But this … this wasn’t just your run of the mill insanity. This was a cruel kind of madness. The same kind of irreverent psychosis Dodger recognized in himself so many years ago. Which is why he walked away from being Rodger Dodger to begin with.

  He raised his face again to Rex, doing little to hide his ire. “You’re sick.”

  “Am I?” Rex asked. “Or am I just willing to do whatever it takes, make whatever sacrifice I deem necessary in order to accomplish my goals? Unlike you.”

  “What do you want?”

  Rex grinned even wider, if that was possible for a Chihuahua to do, and said, “Everything, Mr. Dodger. I want everything. And I will have it, because you will deliver it to me in a week’s time. Do we understand each other?”

  Dodger understood, all right. The little mutt wanted the train, the crew, maybe even Dodger’s life before this was through. Yet Dodger had no intention of giving him a damned thing. “And if I don’t deliver? What then?”

  “Then I will require a bucket for my next gift. Despite the extra care your precious professor has given your new found friends, I am willing to bet that they won’t be able to manage to hold their form when slain.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “I promise you, good sir, I never bluff.”

  “You don’t have the Pack. You don’t have anything. You’re just panicking.”

  The dog gave a sigh. “Fine. I didn’t want to do this. Seems like such a waste, but you insist on proof.” Rex lifted his voice and shouted, “Bring him forward!”

  From the darkness of the stables there appeared something Dodger wasn’t expecting to see on this fine morning. A beautiful young woman sauntered into the sunlight. Dodger couldn’t help but admire Rex’s taste in minions; the young lady looked to be about in her mid twenties, with wide hips, a narrow waist, and a healthy bust. A pair of gleaming pistols rested on each hip, while a breath stealing silver eyed corset cinched her cleavage almost to her chin. All of this was accentuated by an equally tight fitting set of matching black pants and blouse. This was an unusual mode of dress for a gal her age, but Dodger didn’t mind, all things considered. Yes, she was a looker to be sure, but one particular aspect of the pretty young thing gave Dodger pause.

  A cascade of bright red hair tumbled over each shoulder.

  Dodger sighed. Yea gods, but she had to be a redhead, didn’t she?

  Had she been alone, had she not been so well armed, had she not been in the employ of his nemesis, Dodger might have struck up a conversation. But she was armed and she wasn’t alone. Along with her, she dragged another man, hands bound behind his back and a canvas sack over his head. They rounded Dodger, until they stood behind him just in front of the barn doors.

  “Mr. Dodger,” Rex said. “Allow me to introduce my chief of security, Miss Katherine Walker.”

  “You can call me Kitty,” she said with a grin, her ruby lips parting to show off perfect pearly whites.

  Rex gave an audible tut at her self assigned nickname.

  “Kitty?” Dodger asked. He glanced up to Rex, and back to the young woman. “Your name is Kitty, and you work for a dog?”

  “Yes, yes,” Rex said. “The humor isn’t lost on any of us.”

  “Ironic,” Kitty said, shifting her weight from hip to plump hip. “Isn’t it?”

  “No,” Dodger said.

  “No?”

  Dodger shook his head. “It isn’t ironic. It’s amusing, sure, but that isn’t how irony works.”

  “As you can clearly see,” Rex said. “Kitty is our resident scholar.”

  Dodger hoisted a thumb up at the dog behind them. “Now that was irony.”

  The young woman looked to her boss man—or rather boss dog—in the rafters, a flash of anger seizing her lovely green eyes.

  “Are we done with introductions?” Rex asked.

  “Not quite,” Dodger said. He nodded to the bound man. “I think one more fellow deserves to introduce himself.”

  “Why, Mr. Dodger, I am astounded. Don’t you recognize an old friend when you see one?”

  Kitty pulled away the hood, revealing the bound man as one of the dog persuasion, but it was hard to tell what breed thanks to the fact that the poor son of a gun had been beaten within an inch of his life. It wasn’t until the beat down man raised his swollen face that Dodger did indeed recognize him.

  “Bottle?” Dodger asked.

  Bottle shifted his groggy attention to Dodger. “Dodger, sir? Is that you?” The dog man strained to smile, showing Dodger what was left of his broken teeth. Which amounted to even less than usual. “Bless you, sir. Thad said you’d come for us. He said you’d rescue us.”

  “He was right. I will. I promise.” Dodger turned about to look up at Rex again. “Fine, you win. Let them go. The Pack has nothing to do with this.”

  “On the contrary,” Rex said. “They have everything to do with this, because they got involved with you. Kitty? If you please.”

  At the command, Dodger spun in place to find that the woman had produced a blade in one hand and yanked poor Bottle back by the scruff of his hair with the other, exposing his tender throat.

  “No!” Dodger cried as he rushed toward the pair.

  Before Dodger could reach her, the young woman ran the blade across Bottle’s gullet, after which she threw the dying man to the floor at Dodger’s feet. There Bottle writhed and gurgled as he clawed at the gushing fountain of his own throat. Dodger lowered himself to the dying man, and tried his best to hold pressure against the gaping wound, but it was too late. Bottle looked up at Dodger, confusion filling his eyes, the last of his life slipping between Dodger’s wet fingers. In seconds Bottle ceased his struggle, going limp under Dodger’s grip.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dodger whispered. He ran his hands across Bottle’s eyelids, closing them partially out of respect, but mostly because he couldn’t stand that frozen moment of confusion still filling the dog man’s eyes.

  The look that said, You were supposed to rescue me.

  The look that said, You failed me.

  The look that said, You killed me.

  Dodger got to his feet, snarling and heaving, wondering where to direct his fury first. He almost threw himself at the grinning woman, but thought better of it. There was tons of folks around the place under Rex’s employ, and only one Dodger. Instead, Dodger stared into the loft at the one truly responsible.

  “You didn’t have to kill him,” Dodger said.

  “Oh my,” Rex said, watching the fallen form of Bottle behind Dodger. “It looks like you were right after all. He doesn’t appear to … oh no wait. There he goes.”

  A soft pop sounded somewhere behind Dodger as the smell of fresh baked bread filled the barn. At the sound and smell, Dodger closed his eyes. He was far too tired for such devastation.

  “So,” Rex said. “Turns out I wasn’t lying. Fancy that.”

  Dodger drew a deep breath, centering his anger and focusing on his options. No weapons. A pack of wild dogs surrounding him with a merciless bastard at their command. No help on the way. This wasn’t the tightest fix he had ever been in, but it ran pretty damned close.

  “Deliver the Sleipnir,” Rex said, “with her entire crew, to my compound on the coast in two weeks. I suggest you be prompt for I abhor tardiness. Every day you are late, I will kill one of your Pack and send you what is left of the man. I have included some directions to my compound at the bottom of the box. I’m afraid you will have to
get blood on your hands in order to find it, but as we can see, you are used to such things. Do we understand each other now, Mr. Dodger?”

  As the dog spoke, Dodger came over with a sudden thought. “What about Washington Boon?”

  Rex hesitated, as if surprised by the question.

  “Wash?” Kitty asked from behind Dodger. “What about him?”

  Rex growled her into silence. “What was that, Mr. Dodger?”

  Dodger grinned, pleased to have found a sore spot to jam a finger or three into. “You said you wanted to see me in Celina before the next sunset or you would kill Boon. Again. Well, here I am. Where is he?”

  “What is he talking about, Rex?” Kitty asked.

  “Hold your tongue,” Rex snarled at the girl. “I didn’t hire you to ask stupid questions.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rex returned his cool and calm attention to Dodger. “I appreciate your loyalty to your current employer, but Mr. Boon doesn’t concern you. Why should he? It wasn’t as if you knew him.” Rex paused as he considered Dodger a moment. “Or did you?”

  Dodger smiled wider. “Never met the man in person.”

  “Just as I thought.”

  “If that’s what you reckoned, then why use the man to bait me? What made you so sure I’d come running just because you threatened the train’s last gunman?”

  “I knew you would come running to impress your lady friend. But if I were you, I would focus my worry on those I am responsible for, Mr. Dodger, and let well enough alone.”

  “Don’t you mean let sleeping dogs lie?”

  Kitty giggled at Dodger’s back.

  Before Rex could scold her again, Mr. Grinder said, “The Phoenix has arrived, sir.”

  “Excellent,” Rex said. “And not a moment too soon. Kitty?”

  Dodger glanced over his shoulder at her. The young lady nodded her farewell, and took her leave from barn by the same door Dodger had arrived. The moment she closed the door behind her, a huge metal shutter slammed over the thing.

  “I take it that’s not gonna open back up for the likes of me,” Dodger said.

  “I’m afraid not,” Rex said. “I wished we could end this differently, but we all have a part to play in this drama. You the reluctant hero and I the incorrigible villain-”

  “I ain’t no hero,” Dodger said.

  “That’s a shame, because I certainly am a villain.” Rex chuckled. “And what kind of villain would I be if I just let you walk away from this meeting unscathed? No. You will find this entire barn has been sealed. Nothing gets in or out. Grinder, if you please.”

  Mr. Grinder flipped a switch on the wall near the window. The darkened stables before Dodger lit just as brightly as the rest of the barn, revealing three identical contraptions, one resting in each stable. A thick bundle of wires protruded from the sides of each object, leading down and disappearing into the floor. Each contraption displayed a large set of numbers printed on wooden slats; three, zero, zero.

  “Three detonators,” Rex said. “But only one controls the two tons of explosives resting beneath the barn. Disarming them should be simple for our hesitant hero, yet he won’t have time to defuse them all. Which does he choose?”

  Dodger wrinkled his nose at the dog. “What is wrong with you? Did you not get enough love as a child?”

  “Mock me all you wish, but it’s really quite the clever trap. I’ve impressed myself. I am such an evil genius.”

  “You might be evil, but genius you ain’t. If I can’t get out of this mess, then how do you purpose I’ll be able to bring you the train?”

  “You won’t. And in three minutes this whole barn will blow to kingdom come, taking you with it. Then everyone you know and love will die because of your failure.” Just under his words, a droning hum filled the barn. “Lucky for both of us, you won’t fail, Mr. Dodger. I have faith that you will escape. You always think inside the box.”

  The pulsing grew stronger, making Dodger’s teeth ache with each powerful throb. It reminded him of the rhythm of a steam engine chuffing its way down the rails. Only, instead of coming from ground level, as he would expect, this chuff came from somewhere overhead.

  “I must take my leave!” Rex shouted over the pulsing whooshes. “I wished we could discuss this more, but my ride has arrived! Shame really, for I have so much more to tell you! All about your trials and tribulations!”

  “My what?” Dodger shouted.

  It was becoming increasingly difficult to hear the dog’s words. Dodger strained to hear Rex shout, “Let’s just say it should prove to be a very interesting as well as busy two weeks for you! Grinder! Get us out of here!”

  A rope ladder appeared behind the pair just as Dodger wondered how the manservant planned on getting down from the second story window while holding the dog. Someone from above had unwound the thing, providing the dog and his manservant the perfect getaway. Mr. Grinder mounted the ladder while still maintaining his grip on the dog, but didn’t climb. A set of metal bars slid over the open window, sealing Dodger inside.

  “Three minutes, Mr. Dodger!” Rex shouted. “Good luck!”

  Once Rex had his say, the rope pulled the dog and his manservant into the air and away from the barn. Dodger raced to the loft’s ladder, clambering up as quick as his tired legs would let him. He ran to the barred window just in time to catch sight of a dark blot rising into the distance, heading westward, as the pulsing whoosh faded into the quiet afternoon.

  Dodger climbed back down the ladder, taking care to step lightly on the floorboards. If Rex wasn’t bluffing, then there was enough dynamite underneath the place to vaporize not only him, but the entire abandoned town and possibly even the Sleipnir. Dodger looked across the barn to the stables, and the three matching contraptions within. Which one controlled the explosives? As he pondered the situation, the mechanisms all gave a loud, simultaneous beep. Their matching displays changed, shifting the wooden slats to a new set of numbers; two, five, nine.

  Two, five, eight.

  Two, five, seven.

  The three minute countdown had begun.

  ****

  End

  Volume Six

  ****

  Did you know you can pick up an omnibus featuring the first three volumes of the Railroad! tale, as well as a second omnibus featuring the next three volumes?

  Both of them are available for only 2.99 at Amazon.

  It is also available in a print version. Pick up your copy today!

  Be sure to join us for the ongoing story at http://steampunktrain.blogspot.com/

  Ash, hash or cash! No free rides!

  About the Author:

  Tonia Brown is a great lover of weird fiction, coffee, and Victorian dead things. She has cranked out several novels, including Lucky Stiff: Memoirs of an Undead Lover, Badass Zombie Road Trip. Her work appears in a variety of anthologies and periodicals. When not writing, she fights crime with her husband of many years under the code names Doctor Weird and his sidekick Butternut.

  You can find more about Tonia, or read more of her sordid scrawling by visiting:

  http://www.thebackseatwriter.com

  Baron LaCroix logo designed by Philip R. Rogers.

  Other Works by Author Tonia Brown:

  Badass Zombie Road Trip

  Jonah has seven days to find his best friend’s soul after losing it to Satan, or risk losing his own. Before it's all said and done, he drags a zombie across the country, picks up a hitchhiking stripper who has an agenda of her own, and is pursued for a crime he didn’t commit, all while dealing with the occasional visit from The Prince of Lies himself.

  2,000 miles. Seven days. Two souls. One zombie. And Satan.

  It's going to be a hell of a trip.

  Lucky Stiff: Memoirs of an Undead Lover

  Meet Peter Lyles, a young man unremarkable in life but unforgettable in un-death. After he accidentally overdoses while on spring break, Peter's friends do him the dubious favor of bringing him back to life. Or ra
ther, they turn him into a zombie with the help of a little old fashioned Voodoo. Peter's journey through the unlife takes him from the homebrewed sex magic of a mysterious swamp-dwelling Madam, to bouncing from bedroom to bedroom all across the globe, and finally leaving him with a career as the hottest gigolo not alive. All the while, he must deny his hunger for human flesh while sating his passion for, well, human flesh. At turns humorous, at times touching, but always sexy, sexy, sexy.

  "Lucky Stiff" will leave you wanting more Peter. He's just that good.

  Skin Trade

  The Great Undead Uprising of 1870 devastated the western frontier and destroyed the Indian Nations. Though the Army was able to contain the menace before it could devour the entire country, the United States lost claim to her western territories as the survivors fled to the relative safety of the east coast.

  Samantha Martin is among the rare folks traveling west, seeking asylum within the infected territories. Running from a past that threatens to consume her, the young Sam dons the mantle of a male and hides in an all boys’ workhouse that borders these Badlands. From there she is thrust into the service of the skin trade; the terrible deed of trapping and skinning zombies for profit. The work is grueling and perilous, but along the way she finds out what it takes to be a man, why she misses being a woman, but most of all she learns what it means to be human.

  Can Sam keep her masquerade up long enough to flee the Badlands, or will the outlaws that rule the western frontier find out she’s female before she can escape?

  The Cold Beneath

  In the race to the North Pole, who will become the victor, and who will fall to the ravages of the Cold Beneath?

  Phillip Syntax is the world's best biomechanic with a checkered past of betrayal and lost love. When given a chance at redemption by the celebrated soldier Gideon Lightbridge, how can he refuse? This ill-fated expedition turns from daring to disastrous when their airship, the Northern Fancy, crashes in the far and frozen north, leaving the crew stranded without hope.