Railroad! Collection 1 (The Three Volume Omnibus)

by Tonia Brown

  On the heels of this iciness came a sudden heat so strong that he broke out in an immediate sweat. Dodger struggled to catch his breath as his now-overheated heart galloped under the strain of the sudden fever. Moisture popped up along his forehead, streaking down his face and into his eyes. His blood threatened to boil away right in his veins. He was almost sure he could hear steam escaping his ears … or maybe that was just the boilers coming to prime.

  This heat passed just as quickly as the cold, leaving in its wake a sense of utter and complete wellbeing. The feeling was almost foreign; it had been so long since he had experienced such a sensation. Dodger, for the first time in many, many, many moons, felt just plain old good.

  Good? Hell, he felt great!

  “Well?” the professor asked. “How was it?”

  “How was it?” Dodger asked, then laughed aloud. “I feel twenty years younger. I feel like I could take on five men. Ten men!”

  “Don’t get too excited. That sensation will wear off in a few moments. Number eight will give you a slight energy boost for a few more hours, but that overwhelming sense of vigor is temporary. How is your hand?”

  Dodger raised his right hand, and just as Boon and the professor had suggested, he was indeed surprised. The sprain? Gone. The bruising? Gone. The ache? Gone. It was as if he had never injured it to begin with. No, it was better than that. It was like someone had given him a whole new hand.

  “Excellent,” the professor said without waiting for Dodger’s verbal verdict. “Now, I suggest you eat something. You are hungry, yes?”

  At the mention of food, Dodger’s belly rumbled. Hungry didn’t begin to describe the empty feeling in his stomach. Where he was just hungry before from skipping lunch, Dodger was now famished. “I must confess I’m a slight bit peckish.” His stomach rolled again, filling the cab with an embarrassing growl. “Okay, I’m ravenous.”

  “I knew you would be. That’s why I had Feng prep a meal.” The professor snapped his fingers at Feng, who produced a basket from the folds of his robe. “Increased hunger is a side effect of the compound. Well, one of them, at least.”

  “One of them?” Of course there would be side effects. Everything came at a price. “How many side effects are there?”

  The professor tapped his chin as his lips moved, counting in silence.

  Dodger waved his hands in the air. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Few of them are severe, while the rest are just minor annoyances. I’ll warn you if I spot the signs of a side effect arising.

  “Thanks,” Dodger whispered.

  Not at all. That’s what partners are for, yes?

  Dodger nodded, though his jury was still out on the whole partner thing.

  “You’ll enjoy Feng’s cooking,” the professor said. “He always seems to know just what to feed a man. No matter the situation.”

  Feng nodded as he handed off the basket to Dodger, and Dodger thanked the man in his native tongue. Inside the basket were a selection of meats and cheeses, fruit and bread and a canteen of fresh water. Nothing too heavy. A good meal before a brawl.

  “Well then,” the professor said as he rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get this train underway. Lelanea awaits her rescue. Ched! To Herman’s Cap!”

  “Hermit’s Gap,” Dodger said.

  “What he said.”

  Ched was far ahead of both of them, flipping switches and pulling levers before the first request was out of the professor’s mouth. Within seconds, the train lurched into life in a slow chug. Hauling the whole line, it would take her much longer to reach top speed than when she was bobtailing it across the open plains.

  The professor snapped his fingers at the cook. “Come along, Feng. I have another task for you.” He slipped out of the engine car with the Celestial hot on his heels.

  “You mind tellin’ me where we’re headin’?” Ched asked.

  “Twenty miles due north,” Dodger said. “It’s surrounded by about a dozen boulders. You can’t miss it. Just look for the bumps on the horizon and follow.”

  “How closhe you want me to bring her in?”

  “A half-mile or so. I’m sure the messenger warned his leader to expect the entire train, but still, I don’t want to spook them.”

  “Aye, Sharge.”

  Dodger looked down at his hand again, still awestruck at the amazing effects of compound number eight. “Tell me, are the contents of all of those vials capable of feats like this?”

  “Shome.”

  Some do far more amazing things. While some do far worse.

  “Worse? Like what?”

  “You don’t wanna know,” Ched said.

  True enough. Dodger probably didn’t really want to know. But there was something Dodger was just dying to learn. “Why can you hear …” He let the idea fade, unsure he could put his question into words.

  The driver glanced over his bony shoulder. “Are you trying to ashk me shomethin’?”

  He’s curious about your condition, Boon said.

  “Ish he?” Ched raised his eyebrows with a chuckle as he returned his attention to the helm. He jostled a knob, but said nothing more on the matter.

  “Yes, he is,” Dodger said.

  “Then why don’t he jusht ashk?”

  So Dodger did. “Why are you like that?”

  “Like what? Exshactly?”

  Dodger groaned. Was nothing easy with these folks? “Why are you like you are? Why can you hear Boon speak when no one else can? Why are you so … you know… emaciated? You carry the scent of a corpse, but … I mean you’re not … really … are you?”

  “Not what?” Ched laughed again as the unanswered question lingered between them.

  For the love of God, Chester, just tell him already. Stop fiddle farting around. It’s been troubling the lad since he laid eyes on you. If he’s going to work with us, he deserves the truth.

  “The truth?” Ched asked as he spun his chair about to gaze upon Dodger. “The doc shpoke the truth. I’m like thish becaush I’m a shtupid, shtupid, shtupid man.”

  Yes, and aside from that?

  “What elsh ish there?”

  Am I going to be the one who has to spell it out? Fine then. He wants to know if you’re really dead or not.

  Ched tipped his head to Dodger. “Do you want the short ansher?”

  Dodger nodded.

  “I’m not dead,” Ched said.

  Dodger exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m sorry to even ask, it’s just … well, you seem … umm …”

  “Dead?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. No offense meant.”

  “None taken, becaush I’m not dead.”

  “Good then.”

  “Sharge, I’m not-dead,” Ched repeated one more time.

  Dodger heard the cadence of the phrase this third time around. There was a distinct trip of the tongue between the word ‘not’ and the word ‘dead,’ a half-pause that implied a connection of sorts between the terms. A hyphen, perhaps, or even that the two words were in fact one very long word.

  He’s not-dead, Dodger. But he’s not alive, either.

  There it was again. Not-dead.

  The ‘not’ part made sense, because the man couldn’t be dead. Even if he smelled dead. He also looked the part of a corpse: skeletal and stiff, shrunken and shriveled. But on the other hand, he was up walking and talking and driving the train. And drinking. In fact, he smelled as much of whiskey as he did of death. He was pickled in the stuff.

  “I don’t think I understand,” Dodger confessed. “How can you be …?”

  “Not-dead?” Ched asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, now, ‘tish a mighty long shtory, Sharge.”

  No it’s not, interrupted Boon. It takes about ten minutes at the most to share. He just likes to drag it out and fill it full of unnecessary details and unwarranted drama.

  “Becaush that’sh how you’re shupposhed to tell a sthory, you jackash.” Ched sighe
d and scratched his dry skin as he measured Dodger with sallow and sunken eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You bring our Lelanea back shafely, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “That’s not much of a deal for you,” Dodger said. “I was planning on doing that anyway. How about I swap a tale for it?”

  “Shwap a shtory? About yourshelf?”

  “Sure. Ask me anything you like.”

  “Anything?”

  “Within reason.”

  Ched considered this a moment, then said, “Tempting ash that ish, I think I’ll wait.”

  “Why? You’ve nothing to gain. I was going after her anyway.”

  “‘Cause ain’t no ushe wastin’ shuch a good shtory if you’re jusht gonna go and get yourshelf kilt. No shir. I think I’ll wait and shee what happensh.”

  Dodger supposed he couldn’t blame the not-dead man for that.

  ****

  back to top

  ****

  Chapter Five

  Hermit’s Gap

  In which Dodger faces the ire of the Pack.

  Twenty miles due north of the small town of Blackpoint lay the odd outcropping of rocks known to the locals as Hermit’s Gap. So named because the place tended to attract the loneliest kinds of folks—those looking to escape either the pressures or the laws of modern society.

  The location was made up of a collection of boulders and mounds scattered around a circular depression in the earth. There were those who said this depression as the leftover footprint of some great beast that walked the earth centuries before mankind, and that the surrounding landscape was what was left of its bones. There were those who said it was the site of a fallen star, long since removed from its crater by unknown hands. Then there were those who said the depression was made by the manual efforts of one Jeff Brackett, who, after inheriting the barren patch of land back in 1808, became obsessed with the notion that there was gold just under the surface, and spent the last two years of his life digging a hole a hundred feet wide and nine feet deep into the rocky soil, shifting the excess soil and rocks and boulders to the outside until he finally died of a heart attack from the exertion.

  Those latter folks would be right.

  Dodger chanced upon the Gap but once in all the time he had lived in and around Blackpoint. It held little interest for him because there wasn’t much to explore, just a shallow hole in the ground and a bunch of boring rocks. Through the SPECS, however, Dodger found that quite a bit had changed since his last visit. The Gap, once a barren and shunned landmark, was now host to a number of tents, as well as a number of men.

  Several two-man tents littered the depression, with a huge makeshift pavilion set up in the center. Four pairs of guards patrolled the Gap’s borders, while the rest of the men moved about on various tasks, each one focused on the job at hand, whether it was washing dishes or cleaning weapons. To the back, away from the daily grind, sat a larger tent, heavily guarded. Dodger supposed that was his destination. And he guessed the two men approaching the Sleipnir on foot were meant to lead him there.

  “Must be the welcoming party,” Dodger mumbled to himself as he put away the SPECS and prepared to leave.

  “Let me send Torque instead,” the professor said. “He’s fully expendable. No one will miss him. I certainly won’t.”

  “They asked for me, sir. We should honor their request.”

  “And you won’t reconsider arming yourself?”

  “No. I don’t want to do anything that would compromise their trust.”

  “Trust? These are the same men who opened fire on you! And don’t forget that you killed three of their men.”

  “Yes, and their leader could have just sent a passel of men to kill me in return, but he didn’t. I suspect he wants something more than just revenge for his fallen men. I won’t find out what it is if I go in there guns a-blazin’.”

  “Who’s talking guns? Come now, we have plenty of time for me to arm you with a plethora of hidden weaponry. No one will know you are armed until the need arises. A pressure-triggered dagger in your shoe? A spring-loaded poison dart in your hat, perhaps? Just say the word and I’ll make it happen. Torque! Get out here! We have an emergency fitting!”

  “Whoa there, Doc. Such gadgets are tempting, but in the absence of a pistol, I’m used to relying on my fists. If you put a dagger in my shoe, I’m liable to just cut my own toes off.”

  “Nonsense!”

  “Doc, I know you’re worried about her, and I promise I will bring her back to you safe and sound. But we have to act now. There’s not as much time as you think.”

  “I thought we had until sundown?”

  “Those two men approaching are going to want to talk to me a lot sooner than that.”

  The professor snatched up Dodger’s SPECS and looked out toward the Gap. “Son of a … I suppose they don’t want to waste any time.” He lowered the goggles and eyed Dodger with worry. “What will you do?”

  “I’m going to head on out and meet them before they get too close. I’ll try to keep them back from the line, but just in case they have other plans, Ched is on the roof with a pair of goggles and a rifle.” As was Boon, if either of them had bothered to obey Dodger’s commands.

  “Did he say which rifle?”

  “Something he called a Long Shot.”

  The professor seemed to brighten at the name. “Yes, the Long Shot should prove useful here, I would think. Ched is average in his aim, but he should do well, considering he has such a long range.”

  “How long is that?”

  “Three miles.”

  This stalled Dodger in his tracks. “Did you say three miles?”

  “Yes. The Long Shot was Boon’s idea. The rifle is heavily modified, as is the ammunition. The combination results in at least a three-mile range of fire, sometimes five if the wind is in your favor. Of course, accuracy is difficult at that range, but considering you have such a range advantage on your target, one is left with plenty of time to draw a bean.”

  “A bead.”

  “That too.”

  “Sir? I may not need your weaponry just yet, but I do sort of have a favor to ask.”

  The professor beamed at the chance to help. “Anything! Just ask and you shall have it.”

  “Sir, well, I was thinking … do you suppose it might be possible to help those men?”

  “Help them?” The beam dimmed. “In what way?”

  “Could you, you know, do whatever it is you do and make them men again?”

  The professor blinked and stammered, “I … well … I’m not … I’m not sure. I could certainly try. If that’s what you really want.”

  “I do, sir. If that’s okay with you.”

  “I suppose so, but may I ask why? Those men are threatening my niece’s life. They fired on you without provocation. They would shoot you soon as look at you.”

  “No. Those men are only acting out because they don’t have any other way left to them. What’s happened to them isn’t right. You know it as well as I do. They fought for their country, and this is how we repay them? By letting some sick man twist their bodies and turn them into beasts?”

  “I see your point. I should also let you know that they are much worse off than just their appearance.”

  “In what way?”

  The professor glanced about for a moment, then met Dodger’s eyes again. “Their genetic code is highly unstable. Before much longer, they will begin to break down into their base elements without the necessity of trauma.”

  “You mean they’ll just melt on their own, into those puddles of goop.”

  With a grim frown, the professor nodded.

  “How much longer do they have?” Dodger asked.

  “There is no way to know without testing one of them,” the professor said. “If I were to venture a guess, based on the speed of deterioration we have already witnessed, I would say no more than a few weeks. Maybe even days. To be honest, I am surprised they’ve lasted so long.”

/>   “Then if I can go in there and, well, convince them that you can help them, can make them men again?”

  “I can at the very least try. And if not, there is a good chance I might be able to stabilize them.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “Years of experience, my boy. Years and years of terrible, wonderful experience.” The professor flashed him a weak smile. “Regardless of how you view yourself, you’re a good man, Mr. Dodger. I can feel it in my bones.”

  Dodger didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Is there nothing else I can do for you?” the professor asked.

  “Thanks, but no.” Dodger unbuckled the holster, slipping Boon’s babies from his waist and handing the belt to the professor.

  Taking the weapons, the professor maintained his weak smile, but the effort of it showed.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” Dodger said. “I’ll bring your niece back safe and sound. Keep watch for us, and the moment you see us break from the camp, get the train in gear and come pick us up. If there is any trouble on your end, anything at all, give a whistle. I can’t promise I’ll be able to come a-runnin’, but at least it will let me know the train is compromised.”

  “Yes, of course.” The professor clutched the guns to him. “Hurry back.”

  Dodger drew a deep breath and took off on foot for the camp. He was a few feet away when the professor called out behind him.

  “Mr. Dodger!”

  Dodger looked back. “Yes, sir?”

  “Be careful with Lelanea. She’s …” The professor paused, as if searching for the right words to describe his young niece, before he finished with, “just be careful. Please. She’s a very special young woman. And … and she’s all the family I have left.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dodger turned again and took off to meet with the men approaching the line.