Tumultus

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Imran again proceeded down the remainder of the hill until the truck was parked just outside of the building. Again he honked the horn four times and then waited.

  After several minutes, the single door that marked the entrance into the steel roofed building opened up, and a short but powerfully built man with shoulder length grey hair and an enormous, grey and black beard stepped outside. He stared intently at Imran for another few seconds before walking toward the transport truck. Mac was the first to notice the man had a handgun stuffed into the front of his dark cotton pants.

  “He’s armed.”

  Imran nodded.

  “Oh yes – always armed. Look up there.”

  Mac followed Imran’s finger that was pointing halfway up the large building where the unmistakable black metallic glint of a large rifle was poking out of small opening. Mac instantly recognized the type of weapon it was.

  “That’s a Minimi machine gun, very serious firepower. Haven’t seen one of those in years, but they were the shit back in the day. Belgian made. Extremely reliable. They could rip us into shreds right now if they wanted to. We’re all sitting in here like sardines in a can.”

  The Russian stopped some ten feet from Imran’s truck and motioned for just Imran to step out.

  “You. Just you. Not the others.”

  The man’s gruff voice barked the order to Imran while his right hand tucked itself into the front of his pants alongside the handgun. Both Mac and Dublin were fascinated by the mass of unruly hair and beard covering the man’s head. Even the eyebrows that sat above his close set dark eyes spread out so thickly across the forehead they resembled a mustache more than eyebrows

  Imran looked back at Mac and Dublin and smiled.

  “It’s ok. I will talk to him first, then you can meet him as well.”

  The Russian was just a couple of inches taller than Imran, though his shoulders were far more broad. Unusually long arms were complimented by massive forearms and wrists, and ended in equally large and powerful looking hands. As he spoke with Imran, the Russian glanced back at the others in the transport truck with suspicion, shaking his head at whatever Imran was telling him. Finally he uttered one single word and turned to walk back toward the building.

  “Nyet!”

  Imran took a few steps to follow the Russian, who in turn spun around and pushed the smaller man back with enough force Imran fell to the ground. Seeing this, Bear jumped from the back of the transport truck and began to walk quickly toward the Russian. Mac spotted Bear as he passed by the passenger window.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Bear was already glowering over the Russian by the time Mac exited the cabin of the transport truck. Imran had regained his feet and was attempting to step between both Bear and the Russian.

  “Gentlemen, please, it is ok! I am fine, Bear! Fine!”

  The Russian then did something rather extraordinary that shocked everyone – particularly Bear. His right hand snapped upward until his powerful, thick fingers held the front half of the taller man’s throat. Bear’s eyes grew wide as he felt the considerable strength within the Russian begin to block his airway.

  Without thinking, Bear responded by doing the very same thing to the Russian. His right hand grasped the shorter man’s throat and squeezed as Imran grabbed Bear’s forearm and attempted in vain to have him release the Russian.

  By then the others were standing around both Bear and the Russian as the two men glared back at the other, each of them unwilling to release the other’s throat. Bear’s face had gone a deep red, and a massive vein popped out from both sides of his forehead. Though the Russian’s face was hidden behind the mass of beard, an opening within that beard revealed strong white teeth as the man smiled up at Bear.

  The former NFL lineman fell to his right knee, his oxygen-starved red face turning a deeper purple. Still the Russian held onto Bear’s throat, the smile growing wider and his fingers digging deeper.

  Imran shouted for the Russian to let Bear go, but his pleas were ignored. Dublin and Reese too began to shout for him to do the same. Mac grew concerned enough to consider drawing his weapon on the Russian, but before he had the half second needed to make the decision, another member of the group came to Bear’s defense.

  Brando’s teeth sunk deep into the Russian’s forearm as the dog’s head shook violently from side to side as the Doberman demanded the death grip on Bear’s throat was released. The Russian held that grip for a moment longer as he looked calmly down at the Doberman, his mind seemingly trying to process what kind of dog Brando was. There was no fear in the Russian’s eyes, or even a hint of pain – only simple curiosity.

  That curiosity quickly transformed itself into attempted action though, as the Russian’s left hand moved to remove the handgun from the front of his pants. This resulted in the barrel of one of Cooper Wyse’s Colt Revolvers pressing against the head of the Russian.

  “No, no, no. Don’t mess with my dog.”

  The Russian glanced to his left to look into Cooper’s eyes, and he apparently saw something that convinced him the rancher was very serious in following through with his threat.

  “Brando – release.”

  The Doberman instantly followed Cooper’s order and released his bite on the Russian’s forearm. The Russian in turn, let Bear go, causing the larger man to fall onto the ground gasping for air.

  Cooper Wyse looked back at the Russian and gave him a thin smile as he stepped back a few steps with the Colt six shooter still in his right hand.

  “Thank you.”

  Dublin and Reese helped Bear back to his feet. The big man was looking down at the Russian with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Never before in Bear’s adult life had another human being been able to best him in a test of strength.

  After rolling back the thick sleeve of his jacket to inspect his arm, and then apparently deciding there were no serious injuries from Brando’s bite, the Russian again turned back toward his building as Imran followed beside him and implored the Russian to take the job.

  “They will pay you for the trip Yakov! They will pay you very well!”

  Still the Russian refused.

  “Nyet! I am too busy! Manitoba – too far!”

  Imran persisted.

  “The godfather wants you to do this Yakov. He would consider it a personal favor to him.”

  The Russian turned to face Imran, then looked back at the group who stood together behind Mac and Cooper.

  “You take my business while I am gone. Manitoba is many days there and back. Very dangerous. The godfather…can go fuck himself. You…them…go fuck yourselves.”

  Cooper Wyse stepped forward.

  “I got gold. You take us to Manitoba, it’s yours.”

  The Russian’s eyes, peering out from under those massive black and grey eyebrows, bored into Cooper, who in turn stared calmly back as Brando sat next to him.

  “How much?”

  Cooper Wyse shrugged.

  “Enough.”

  The Russian began walking quickly toward Cooper, causing Brando to issue a low warning growl.

  “Show me.”

  Cooper opened his jacket and reached into an inner pocket and extracted a small leather pouch. He removed a single, gold flinted nugget and held it out for the Russian to see.

  “Got about three pounds of gold. I know that can buy you a fair amount of stuff on the Black Market down here.”

  The Russian shook his head as he waived a dismissive hand toward Cooper Wyse.

  “Not enough. Need double that. Long trip. Very dangerous.”

  Dublin leaned over and whispered into Mac’s left ear.

  “The drone gun. That has to be worth a lot.”

  Mac glanced back at Dublin, considering her idea.

  Imran, already sensing what Mac and Dublin were considering, put both of his hands up to the Russian and smiled.

  “Please – wait here. We will discuss other options.”

  The Russian glared back at Imra
n, but did not move.

  Imran walked over to the others and whispered to Mac.

  “Are you thinking of giving him the drone gun?”

  Mac nodded and looked over at Cooper.

  “Fine with me. We need to get on that train.”

  Imran nodded.

  “Ok then. It is a very good sign that he’s waiting to hear what else we have to offer. That means he wants to negotiate. I will make this deal happen for you.”

  Imran returned to where the Russian stood waiting.

  “Yakov, we have something very rare, very much in demand for anyone fearing the drones. A weapon designed to shoot them from the sky. Portable. One person can use it. You could keep it here to protect your home.”

  The Russian said nothing for nearly a minute as he looked back at Imran. Finally he responded.

  “You have this thing? Now? This weapon is here now?”

  Mac walked to the back of the transport vehicle and brought out the laser gun and held it up for the Russian to see.

  “Yeah, it’s here. And it works. We already shot down a drone the other day.”

  The Russian’e eyes stared at the anti-drone gun in Mac’s hand. He wanted it badly.

  “I can take you halfway. Payment of gold and the drone gun. That will get you halfway to Manitoba. That is very good offer.”

  Imran shook his head and then handed the Russian what looked to be a small piece of paper.

  “This is a note the godfather requested I hand to you personally, Yakov. He said you would understand and then do the right thing.”

  Yakov grabbed the note from Imran and read it slowly, his right hand scratching the mop of unruly hair atop his head as he did so. He then stuffed the paper in his pocket turned his head to look back at the building behind him.

  “Shit. This come from the godfather?”

  Imran nodded.

  The Russian paused again and then nodded toward the group before turning to walk back into the large, steel roofed building.

  “Ok. We go. We go now. Be ready. Ten minutes.”

  Imran smiled back at Mac and the others.

  “Please hurry and unload your things from my truck. Once the Russian makes up his mind, he moves very quickly. If he says ten minutes, he means it.”

  Dublin walked up to Imran to ask a question.

  “What did that note say?”

  Imran looked toward the Russian’s building and then back up at Dublin.

  “A few years ago, one of Yakov’s daughters became very ill, a rare form of Leukemia. She was dying. The typical cancer vaccine is hard enough to get in Canada. The New United Nations tries very hard to prevent any of it from getting smuggled outside of government approved zones. In this case, because of the type of Leukemia, the vaccine available was even more rare. Very, very tough to access for anyone up here. The Russian begged the godfather to help him save his daughter. Two months later, the vaccine arrived. Even I don’t know how the godfather obtained it, but it had to have been very expensive. Today, for your trip to Manitoba, the godfather was willing to call in that favor owed to him by the Russian for saving his daughter. I was told not to use the note unless I had to. Well…I felt I had to, and Yakov, being an honorable man, agreed to pay the debt owed to the godfather. He will pay that debt by taking you to the priest in Manitoba.”

  A massive door began to slide open in the front portion of the building, revealing the front of a dark black locomotive. Mac, Bear, Cooper, and Reese stood next to Dublin and Imran, looking in wonder at the Russian’s train. Inside the building, the Russian, three young girls, and a woman, could be seen moving swiftly in and then back out of the train.

  Yakov pointed to the group and motioned for them to come inside the building.

  “Put your things in the passenger car. Back there.”

  Mac and the others walked into the building and then back to the last part of the train, a large, square passenger car that had been meticulously restored to its former glory. Imran opened the rear door and motioned for the others to come inside.

  “This passenger car is over a hundred and twenty years old. Used to run the main line between Seattle and Vancouver when the wealthy would return to their summer homes up north. The Russian spent nearly two years fixing it up, replacing parts, sanding and staining the wood…it is now quite beautiful. There is a small cooking area, seats that convert to beds, and even a self contained bathroom! And look here, a chess set! Playing cards! Books that were published when this train was still in service!”

  Dublin couldn’t help but smile at Imran’s enthusiasm over the passenger car. She admitted to herself it was a remarkable restoration and would certainly provide them some very comfortable travel accommodations to Manitoba.

  The Russian entered the passenger car and looked down at the assorted backpacks that were sitting on the floor.

  “Put those by your seats. Out of the way. Then go back outside and wait.”

  Imran pointed toward the front of the train.

  “The train is taken out from the building by a pulley before it is started up. He wants us to go back outside before he begins to take the train out.”

  Mac and the others followed Imran back outside and watched as the Russian crawled under the front of the locomotive and placed a large iron clamp over a steel ring hanging from the bottom of the machine. He then walked quickly over to a large wheel bolted onto the interior wall of the building and began to turn it slowly clockwise. The sound of a chain moving through some kind of pulley echoed inside the building as the train began to move forward to the outside. Reese pointed to the train tracks.

  “He has a manually powered pulley system inside the tracks. Just hook it onto the train and it can pull it frontwards or back from inside the building. This guy must have some serious mechanical skills.”

  Imran nodded at Reese’s observation.

  “Oh yes – the Russian can fix or build just about anything.”

  Unlike Reese, who was focused on how the Russian was moving the train by turning the wheel inside the building, Mac’s attention was focused on something he saw at the very front of the locomotive.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, will you look at that?” He’s got a Ronson flamethrower hooked up to the front of that thing! Looks like an old tank unit system.”

  After the train was completely out of the building, the Russian jumped inside the locomotive cab and began shoveling coal into the flame box, building up the heat that would eventually create the steam to power the train. Soon he was joined by one of his daughters who grabbed her own shovel and worked nearly as quickly as her father. Yakov’s smile could be seen flashing through his beard as he looked over at the girl working so hard to help him prepare the train.

  Imran whispered to the others standing next to him.

  “That was the daughter who was dying from the cancer.”

  Nearly ten minutes went by before Yakov and his daughter stopped filling the flame box with coal and stepped back outside where his other two daughters and wife were waiting. The Russian kneeled down to kiss the foreheads of each of his daughters before standing back up and hugging his wife. Yakov pointed to the machine gun housed in the second floor of the building.

  “As always – anyone come, shoot. No questions. Just shoot.”

  Yakov’s wife, her long blonde hair tied back behind her, appeared to be at least ten years younger than her husband. Hearing his instructions, she simply nodded and hugged him again, repeating several times that he was to come home.

  The Russian turned to face the group and pointed to the passenger car.

  “Get on. If you need to see me, walk the plank on the side. Don’t fall. You fall, you probably die.”

  The plank Yakov referred to was a one foot wide wood beam that ran the length of the passenger can and from which one could, if they were careful, walk alongside the train as it was moving, in order to reach the front.

  The Russian paused as the group was about to walk into the passenger car.<
br />
  “Also…if we are being attacked, open windows and shoot. Very simple.”

  Bear watched as Yakov jumped into the locomotive cabin, his hand still rubbing the bottom of his neck. The Russian began frantically using a manual blower to speed up the process of heating the fire box.

  Everyone in the group then turned around to find Imran standing alone, not moving toward the train. His face betrayed the sadness he was feeling.

  “I cannot go with you, my friends. I must continue to transport goods for the godfather, especially in the absence of the Russian. That was part of the deal.”