Railroad! Collection 1 (The Three Volume Omnibus)

by Tonia Brown

As he picked at the knots, Dodger asked, “Do you have any weapons?”

  “No,” Thad confessed. “Butch suspected the men were roused by your speech, so he confiscated the weapons right away. Only his select guard carries guns now, though a few of us have small blades.”

  “How many men are with you?”

  “Not many, I’m afraid. But there are enough to make a difference. Or at least enough to form a new Pack once we are free of this place.”

  “You won’t need a new Pack. After the doc is done with you, you should be able to return to a normal life. You’ll be full men again.”

  “Yes,” Lelanea agreed, much to Dodger’s surprise. “My uncle posses the most brilliant mind in the world. If anyone can determine what has caused this curious change of yours, Hieronymus can.”

  “Thank you,” Thad said. “We haven’t forgotten your offer, but now is not the time to talk about it. It is more important to us to get you and your friends safely away from here.” Once Lelanea was free, the tall man waved at the end of the tent he arrived from. “This way, and please keep silent. Butch and his guard are restless for your blood.”

  One by one, they slithered under the tent flap in complete silence, with Dodger keeping watch on the others before exiting last. On the opposite side of the canvas, he greeted a handful of eager faces, more than one of which he recognized.

  “Bottle?” he asked in a whisper.

  Grinning, the old timer pressed a thin finger to his lips.

  You must keep silent, Dodger, Boon whispered. Without the tent to muffle your voices, they will know you’ve escaped.

  Now that he heard Boon, Dodger felt the presence of the spirit lingering nearby. In all of the excitement, he had missed the sensation before now. It left him wondering just how long Boon was waiting to speak. And how much he had already heard.

  Thad tapped Dodger on the shoulder for his attention. The lad motioned to the front of the tent, held out four fingers, then pointed to his own eyes.

  The lad is correct. There are four men watching the tent entrance. May I suggest a course of action?

  Rather than answer aloud, Dodger nodded.

  I recommend you sneak to the back of that large boulder across the way, to your right. It is the closest and the largest. If you can get your company beyond it, I will instruct Ched to pick you up along that side.

  Dodger eyed the boulder and groaned. If it had been positioned behind the tent, then the task would’ve been as simple as counting crows. But, as Dodger well knew, nothing worth doing was ever simple. The rock lay across from the front of the tent, several hundred feet away, and precisely in the guard’s line of sight. Between the rock and their current hiding spot rested a no man’s land of dirt and dust and little else. It was going to be a difficult feat to get half a dozen folks to the backside of the rock without tipping off the bulldogs just around the corner.

  ‘Distraction?’ Dodger mouthed.

  The other men exchanged confused glances. But Dodger wasn’t talking to them.

  If I can arrange one, can you get her out of here safely?

  There was no telling what the spirit considered a distraction. Would he have Ched fire into the camp? Or just plow the train straight through? Without recourse or time to argue about it, Dodger could only nod again.

  Excellent. Get ready then. I will have Ched quick-prime the train. You will know when it is safe to flee.

  Flee.

  Dodger rolled that terrible word around in his mind. In his entire career, there was but one time he fled rather than fought. That single time began with turning his back on his career and ended with the birth of Arnold Carpenter.

  Thad touched Dodger’s shoulder again. The lad wore a questioning look, which was no surprise, considering Dodger had spent the last few moments holding a one-sided conversation. Thad sought direction. All of the men did. They were willing to follow his lead, but he had to give them a lead to follow first. Dodger raised a hand and mouthed out a single word.

  Wait.

  Thad and his men looked to one another, unsure what Dodger was going on about.

  ‘Wait,’ Dodger mouthed again.

  This only served to further confuse them. Even Lelanea stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. But Dodger kept his hand up and still, warning the others to hang on. To be patient. To wait. Meanwhile, he tuned all of his senses to the surrounding environment, seeking some uncertain signal that all was ready. The night was alive with the cheeping and chirping of a variety of insects. The camp bustled with the sounds of crackling fires and the men making ready to end another day. Closer, at Dodger’s back, came the heavy breathing of his fellow escapees. He could all but hear their hearts thumping with anticipation, waiting for his next instruction.

  And there they waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  “What are we waiting for?” Thad finally asked in a whisper.

  No sooner had he posed the question than the answer came with a resounding boom.

  ****

  back to top

  ****

  Chapter Nine

  Hot Board

  In which Dodger follows, flips and flees.

  The camp fell into a panic as vibrant colors exploded across the Gap’s sky. Sparkling flowers blossomed, over and over, lighting the camp in brief spurts of red and gold. Some of the men stopped in place to watch the impressive show, while others ran for cover. Or maybe weapons. Probably both. But Dodger had seen such things before, and he bet they were courtesy of one Celestial chef.

  “What the heck is-” Bottle asked before Dodger strangled his question short with a hand over the man’s mouth.

  “It’s our signal,” Dodger whispered.

  “Signal?” Thad asked.

  “From the line. I arranged it with the doc before I left. It should give us enough cover to get across camp without being seen.”

  Dodger peered around the tent to find that only one guard remained. The others were rushing to the mess pavilion, probably seeking new commands from their glorious leader. Even the remaining guard was no longer focused on his job of watching the tent behind him. Instead he stood with his face turned to the sky, slack jawed with awe at the scene unfolding before him. It was almost too easy.

  “The way is clear,” Dodger whispered as he returned to his crouch. He motioned to the agreed-upon boulder in the distance. “Everyone needs to get behind that big rock. The line will pick us up over there.”

  “You mean we get to ride the train?” one of the men asked.

  “Yes,” Dodger said.

  The four men twittered with excitement, and one even clapped softly at the idea of riding the Sleipnir.

  “Did you arrange this ahead of time too?” Lelanea asked.

  “Of course,” Dodger said, and gave her a sly wink.

  In the glow of golden light, Lelanea raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. Dodger knew slyness wouldn’t be enough. She would expect a full explanation when this was all done. What he was going to tell her, he had no idea. But there was no time to worry about that now.

  “Thad, you go first,” Dodger said. “Then Bottle. Then Miss Lelanea. Then-”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of ladies first?” she asked, and before he knew what had happened, she headed across the camp. One second she was mouthing off, and the next she stood waving at them from the other side. Quick as that. No fuss. No muss. No hesitation. And, Dodger sensed, no fear.

  Which impressed him all the more.

  “That’s some woman,” one of the men said.

  “She sure is,” Bottle said.

  “She’s certainly a hard act to follow,” Thad said.

  “She sure is,” Bottle repeated.

  Dodger tried hard not to laugh aloud. “Keep your heads down and move out.”

  At his command, the men formed a line and, one by one, darted across the confused camp, every few steps of their way lit by different-colored bursts of light. Dodger split his attention between
the dwindling number near him, Lelanea’s signals, the disorder of the camp and the single guard still very distracted by the fireworks. Every time a man joined Lelanea’s side, she waved for another, until just Dodger remained.

  He tossed one more glance to the occupied guard before he too took off for the safety of the boulder. Around him, the camp began to show signs of bouncing back from the initial shock of the impromptu fireworks show. The bulldogs now emerged from the mess, barking orders left and right, commanding those in panic to calm down, while instructing the rest to gather their confiscated weapons from the mess tent. Dodger slowed his pace to stay with the others, doing his best to blend into the calming crowd. Just under the pop, zoom and boom of the pyrotechnics, Dodger sensed the distinct rumble of the Sleipnir approaching position.

  Better hurry, Boon warned. Ched is almost upon you.

  “Tell him not to stop,” Dodger whispered as he shifted his quick walk into a jog. “Just slow down enough for us to jump on.”

  Are you certain that’s wise?

  “No. But we’ll need the momentum to get out of here fast.” Dodger ducked behind the boulder, where the others greeted him with quiet congratulations. “Ched’s bringing the line around now. He’s going to slow down but not stop, which means we’ll have to pull a hot board.” The confusion on the men’s faces reminded Dodger that not everyone spoke the language of the rails. “I mean we have to board her while she’s moving. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I’ve never done that sort of thing,” Bottle said.

  “Me neither,” another man said.

  “Miss?” Dodger asked. “You think maybe-”

  “Don’t you worry about me,” she snapped. “There aren’t enough fingers and toes between us to count the number of times I’ve flipped aboard her while she was moving.”

  “Actually, I was going to ask you to go first and show the rest of us how it’s done.”

  Shocked into silence, she blinked once, then twice, before she said, “Oh. Well then, yes, of course.”

  Just as the last of the fireworks faded, the rumbling grew louder and around the bend rolled a pair of large, bright lights: the headlamps of the Sleipnir. The inexperienced men readied themselves to board, while sneaking peeks at Lelanea for guidance. Or were they just outright leering at the svelte silhouette of her moonlit figure? It was hard to tell, considering Dodger had a hard time not doing just that. Either way, Lelanea ignored them all as she shifted her weight from foot to foot and made ready. As the train pulled up to their hiding spot, she took off in a sprint. The men followed suit, as did Dodger, and soon the whole group was running alongside the engine car.

  The skeletal figure of Ched emerged from the back of the cab, ready to lend a hand and help them aboard. He stooped over the edge of the platform and extended a lanky arm to the first in line, Lelanea. Pretty as you please, she grabbed his hand and flipped herself onto the train. Dodger had seen many a man flip a train, but this was the first time he had seen a woman attempt it. And the first time he had seen it done with such grace, beauty and poise. He also had a pretty good idea now why the lady chose to wear pants. And he couldn’t fault her for it either, though he suffered a bit of regret that the long-legged beauty wasn’t sporting a free-flowing skirt.

  Ched shuffled Lelanea off to one side before he reached down for another escapee. Thad was closest, but instead of flipping aboard, he just stared up at Ched. In fact, all of the men were staring at Ched with matching looks of horror. Dodger had all but forgotten the fact that Ched looked, well, unusual.

  “Stop staring and grab on!” Lelanea screamed over the chuff of the train.

  But the men would have none of that. They were losing their pace too, slowing to a trot while the train steadily pulled away from them.

  “For God’s sake, just take his hand!” Dodger yelled.

  One the men snapped out of his self-induced trance of disgust, pushed himself harder, overtook Thad, and reached up to grab Ched’s hand. Before they could connect, a series of gunshots resounded just over the train’s chugging engine. Dodger watched as a dark smear of black swelled forth between the poor lad’s shoulder blades. Struck down, the nameless man dropped and rolled away, almost tripping Thad in the process.

  Dodger chanced a look over his shoulder to find the camp bordered by a dozen rifle-bearing Pack members, resetting their weapons and once more taking aim on the escaping group. He pushed his run into high gear, hoping the others would have the sense to do the same. Bottle—his disgust forgotten in favor of survival—doubled his speed and snatched Ched by the wrist to leap aboard the train. Thad followed, as did the other two in turn, tumbling and scrambling and awkwardly struggling aboard, all to the clang and clink of ricocheting bullets. Dodger boarded last with practiced ease, locking hands with Ched and pulling himself onto the train as smooth as a silk stocking slipping down a lady’s thigh.

  “Welcome back, Sharge,” Ched said.

  “Thanks for the rescue,” Dodger said between gasps.

  “My pleashure.” He tipped his head to Lelanea. “Doc’sh at the helm if you wanna shee him.”

  Lelanea gave Ched a quick hug—how she stood the driver’s touch in such an intimate manner, Dodger couldn’t fathom—before she darted into the cab to reunite with her uncle. The men, however, crowded to one side of the small platform and returned to staring at Ched with wide, curious eyes, as well as wrinkled noses. That was, all of the men save for Thad, who clutched the side railing and leaned out to stare at the dwindling outline of the camp, frantically searching the distance for something he’d lost.

  Or rather, someone.

  “We have to go back,” Thad said. “Turn this thing around.”

  “Back?” Ched asked, then snorted. “We ain’t goin’ back.”

  “We left Bret behind,” Thad said. “We have to turn around and get him before they do.”

  I’m afraid it will do no good, Boon whispered to Dodger. The lad has passed on.

  “He’s gone,” Dodger said.

  “But I promised him-” Thad started.

  “He’s gone,” Dodger repeated, firmer this time.

  Thad looked back to Dodger with damp eyes. “We don’t know that. He could be alive.”

  Dodger shook his head.

  “Then he died by my hand,” Thad said, almost too softly to be heard under the noise of the train.

  “He knew what he signed on for,” Bottle said.

  “Yeah,” said another of the men. “We all knew the risks.”

  Thad shrugged, but looked unconvinced.

  And Dodger didn’t envy him the burden of his comrade’s death.

  “You think they’ll pershue?” Ched asked.

  “Maybe,” Dodger said. “But I doubt it. They would’ve been after us by now. They might track us if they can.”

  “They won’t. We have the blower goin’ on her caboosh. A little hot air should erash enough of our tracksh to confushe them.” Ched turned to the other fellows and rubbed the back of his neck, as if embarrassed to speak what was on his mind. “I hate to bring thish up now, but doesh any of you know where we can get shome water around here? Ash in, really shoon? Ash in, right now?”

  The men shook their heads in unison.

  “I do,” Dodger said. “There should be a pond about ten miles southwest of here. There’s a farm within sighting distance, but you shouldn’t have trouble with the locals.”

  “Fat chansh of that. We alwaysh have trouble with the localsh.”

  “This time you won’t, because there aren’t any. The place is abandoned.”

  “How can you be shure?”

  Dodger raked his gaze over the dog-men, then looked back to the driver before he said, “I just am.”

  Ched shrugged, but didn’t ask more on the matter.

  “What are your names?” Dodger asked the new fellows.

  “Clyde,” one man said.

  “Stanley,” said the other.

  “And we met already,” Bottle sa
id. “I hope you don’t hold our little exchange earlier today against me. I was just doin’ what I were told. I wouldn’t have really shot anyone. I’m not even a very good aim.”

  “No harm done,” Dodger said. “Yet.”

  “I’m glad to see you made it through in one piece, Mr. Dodger,” the professor said. “Though you could use another number eight, from the looks of things.”

  Dodger found the man leaning against the cab’s doorframe, listening with interest, hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “I appreciate the offer, sir. But there are a couple of fellows ahead of me here.”

  “Of course. Ched, follow his directions. The rest of you can follow me.” The driver did as asked while the professor pushed past the tight clutch of men, crossed the linking platform and entered the second car beyond. He turned in the doorway, lifting his hand to beckon the others. “Come, this way.”

  None of them moved.

  The professor let out a dramatic sigh. “For the love of Buddha, I haven’t got all night.”

  The men looked to one another, then to Dodger as if for advice.

  “I’d go with the doc, if I were you,” Dodger said. “Either that or you can stay here and keep Ched ‘n’ me company.”

  At this threat of spending more time in the presence of the strange driver and his strange smell, the men hurried across the linking platform and into the second cab after the professor.

  “You think he can really help us?” Thad asked.

  “He’ll do what he can,” Dodger said. “Just ignore his theatrics. Give him a chance. If it helps, I trust him.” This wasn’t just a white lie of reassurance. Dodger did trust the doc. He couldn’t explain why, but he did.

  “It does,” Thad said. “Because I trust you.”

  Dodger didn’t bother to mention that this kind of trust was dangerous when placed on a man like himself. Instead, he clapped Thad on the shoulder and smiled away the worries. “Go on then. I’ll catch up in a few.”

  Thad followed Dodger’s orders and trailed after the other three men into the dim light of the second cab. After the door closed, Dodger ducked into the engine car to help Ched find a source of water.