1931 The Grand Punk Railroad: Express

by Ryohgo Narita

  Why is this happening? Why, why, why, why…? What was that monster? Do they have a monster working as the conductor on this train?

  That monster’s shaped like a human, but there’s no way it’s human on the inside! At first I thought it was only killing the black suits, but… To think it would butcher a little kid like that… That red monster really doesn’t have a human heart.

  How long had she been thinking the same thing and trembling? When the gun battle had broken out in the dining car, she’d barely even blinked, but now terror dominated her, body and soul.

  As an info gofer, she’d waded into a variety of dangerous situations. She’d come very close to being killed several times. However, that had been nothing compared with the fear she felt now.

  Mafia and flying bullets were terrors she could understand. They definitely existed, and she’d walked into those terrors completely prepared for them. Of course there had been a few times when the fear had been greater than what she’d prepared for, but it hadn’t been anything she couldn’t get through.

  However, that crimson creature was in a whole different league. It was a being she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how to deal with it, or how she should prepare for it.

  If there was one thing she did understand, it was that, as a ride-stealer, she absolutely must not let it catch her… Although she wouldn’t have wanted that thing to catch her even if she hadn’t been train jumping.

  She had reached the locomotive. It would be dangerous to crawl through a space that was crowded with the boiler and other equipment. Having run out of places to go, Rachel had maneuvered until she was horizontal and then had lain down on the metal fittings beside the coupling. That said, since there wasn’t much space under the train, horizontal was about the only position she could take.

  In the darkness, the gravel that was spread under the tracks reflected the moonlight. That light was the only way to combat the darkness. Of course, it was very nearly useless, but still.

  I’ll never get anywhere if I just sit here. For now, Rachel decided to see how things looked in the first-class carriages. Compared with that scarlet nightmare, she much preferred dealing with black suits and machine guns.

  Rather than wait where she was, she’d chosen to move around on her own and run until she was safe. She had no intention of being caught up in any sort of trouble. As long as she could get clean away, that was enough for her.

  Carefully poking her head out from between the cars, she looked at the side of the first-class carriage.

  Just as on the other cars, the decorative designs on the side could be used as handholds.

  She grabbed one of the pieces, flattening herself against the side of the car as though she were rock climbing. Anyone who was not very used to this would probably have fallen off the train and into the afterlife during the maneuver.

  Ever since she was a child, Rachel had run simulations that assumed all sorts of circumstances on stopped trains. Compared with going up the perfectly flat side of a normal train, climbing this gaudy, heavily ornamented carriage was easy.

  She wondered if it would be better to climb up on top of the locomotive; she might not be found there. The thick smoke would hide her, and there probably wasn’t anyone who would go all the way out there.

  She entertained that idea for a moment, but aside from the fact that the smoke might suffocate her, she had no idea what the temperature in the area around the smokestack might be; that was uncharted territory for her. Deciding to think about it after she’d climbed up to the roof, she quietly approached the window. For now, she thought, she’d see what things were like inside, but—

  Rachel stealthily peeked in, then regretted it.

  I wish I hadn’t seen that.

  What she’d seen was a young girl and her mother with their arms and legs bound with ropes. There was one black suit with a machine gun beside them.

  No, no, no, no! Don’t get involved! If you get involved, you’ll die! You walk into danger for information, but you can’t risk your life for something that won’t bring in any money!

  Desperately lecturing herself, she kept climbing toward the roof.

  Her father’s figure rose in her mind. Her father, who’d been cut off by his company and had died burdened only with hardship. The man the company had abandoned to save its own skin.

  Hold it, you! That and this are completely different things! Listen, your life is already on the line here! If you waste it because of cheap reasoning like that, you’re denying your whole life up to this point!

  She scolded herself frantically, but it was too late. Her father’s face clung to her mind, and it wouldn’t let go.

  What are you doing?! I said no! You steal rides all the time; doing something like this now won’t make up for any of that! So stop already! You have to stop! Don’t let yourself—

  Before she knew it, her body was right above the window, and she’d lowered one leg a little—

  No, no, no! You’ve got to stop! You have to stop! Stop—

  Then her toe lightly kicked the window a few times.

  …Too late now.

  The window opened, and the man in black poked his head out.

  When she saw him at the lower edge of her field of vision, she made up her mind.

  Since it’s too late now, I’ll go all the way.

  She let go of the wall with both hands and fell, letting gravity take over. She felt the soles of her boots come down on something soft, and for a moment, she stopped falling. The instant she felt that, she got an underhanded grip on the windowsill with her fingers…and threw all her weight onto the man’s upper body.

  The goon lost his balance and began to fall, bending over backward. Rachel promptly moved her feet forward, as if she were walking on the black suit’s stomach, and got her legs into the train. As if in exchange, the man fell outside. Watching him roll away, she thought, I don’t want to be a murderer, so please don’t die. That was how Rachel touched down into the room.

  When Claire reached the dining car, he peeked in from outside to see how things looked.

  There were two guards within, holding machine guns.

  “No help for it.”

  Murmuring quietly, Claire closed one eye and went down under the car. Then he reached out for a box with a yellow mark on it, located in the very middle of the car’s underside.

  Several small levers protruded from the box. He set a hand on one of them.

  “If they’re going to spend money on stuff like this, I wish they’d put in a wireless system between the conductors’ room and the engine room. And anyway, putting the generator exchange switch under the car… That’s a design flaw no matter how you look at it.”

  This was the key part of one of the Flying Pussyfoot’s distinguishing features: a system that generated power for the electric lights from the wheels of each carriage.

  Once, a turbine behind the safety valve of the locomotive’s boiler had taken care of everything, including lighting the passenger cars. In time, the electricity from that turbine had been switched to exclusively power the lamps in and around the locomotive, and so it no longer went to the passenger cars.

  On this train, electricity was generated from the wheel axles, and the electric wiring for each car was independent. As a result, the system—which was unique to this train—generated more electricity than normal, and it was possible to make the train’s interior as bright as day.

  One of the switchboards was under the car, and Claire had reached for that switchboard’s selecting switch.

  “If someone sneaked under the train, it would be easy for them to cause a power outage…like this.”

  He pulled the lever and, in almost the same moment, quickly exited the car.

  “All right, I guess I’ll go push myself a bit.”

  Muttering this, he began doing acrobatics on the side of the moving train.

  Inside the dining car, which had gone dark, a scream went up. At the same time,
working from the outside, he flung open a window at the rear of the car.

  “What’s that?!”

  One of the black suits came over, holding a gun. Claire withdrew his arms and waited for the man to thrust the gun outside.

  Immediately, the gun muzzle was shoved through the window. Apparently, they weren’t used to unexpected situations. What a bunch of morons.

  As he thought this, Claire promptly grabbed the gun and dragged it toward himself.

  “Whoa…”

  He pulled the black suit’s body over, then corrected his grip, grabbing the man’s arm. Destabilizing his balance with just one hand, Claire yanked him down with tremendous force.

  He threw the man from the train. It wasn’t certain he’d die, but Claire didn’t have time to finish him off before dropping him.

  Then he ran along the ornamentation on the train’s side.

  The sculptured reliefs created slight projections, and he ran on top of them, leaning forward, making for the front of the train.

  Whenever it seemed as though he might drift away from the side, he stretched out his left hand, grabbed a window frame, and pulled himself back upright by force.

  Run, run, run. By forcing a vision to come true, Claire made that nightmare a part of reality. The one destined to see the nightmare was the other black suit.

  A man running soundlessly on the side of the train. Seen from a distance, it would probably have looked as though he were running on thin air beside the train.

  In the darkness, the passengers saw a red shadow running outside, illuminated by moonlight. When they did, the screams in the car increased explosively.

  By the time the black suit, between two tables, opened the window beside him, it was too late.

  Claire was already there, and before the man could train his gun on him, Claire had grabbed his arm.

  “Applause, please: I’ve never done this before, and I did it on the first try… I worked really hard. All right?”

  He hauled the black suit toward him, whispering quietly in his ear. Then, as the man shuddered with terror, he threw him out of the train without the slightest hesitation.

  Claire went under the car again, quickly returned to the switchboard, and threw the lever.

  When he went back to the window and looked in, different black suits were there.

  “They just keep popping up like cockroaches…”

  Sounding half-disgusted, he got rid of one on the coupling. The other seemed to have seen him, and he ran off toward the first-class compartments.

  I guess that’s not a problem. As long as they’re focused on me, they probably won’t hurt the passengers.

  Giving a small nod, he started back toward the rear cars.

  It was almost time to send the signal to the locomotive.

  Where is that man?

  Up on the roof, just over the conductors’ room, Chané was focusing every nerve she had.

  Having lost sight of Ladd in the neighborhood of the freight room, she’d returned to the roof and was surveying the area.

  That man is dangerous. I have to get rid of him immediately. If I don’t, he’ll be my greatest obstacle. He may also prove to be a difficult roadblock for Huey.

  Although she had no grounds for it, she felt something decidedly close to certainty, and so she sought out the red-dappled white suit. Having determined that she wouldn’t find him by moving around at random, she’d decided to look out over the entire train again from the roof, but—

  Her target appeared on his own.

  Quite naturally, wearing the sort of expression he would have worn to meet a friend.

  “Hey.”

  At the sight of Ladd’s face, with its suspiciously broad smirk, Chané felt even more certain: She really did have to dispose of this man.

  Although she didn’t know her opponent’s true identity, thoughts that could have been taken as paranoid delusions continued to grow inside her… Though they weren’t entirely delusions.

  “How’ve you been, my kitten? Were you lonely without me?”

  Ladd gave an unpleasant smile. In response, Chané wordlessly drew her knife.

  Her opponent didn’t seem to have his rifle. On confirming this, she lowered her stance, preparing to break into a run.

  “That’s cold, Chané.”

  Chané stopped moving.

  How does this man know my name?

  Upon seeing her confusion, Ladd nodded, satisfied.

  “I know everything about you, see. Like how the rest of ’em hate you, and how you hate ’em right back, and how you’re Master Huey Laforet or whoever’s favorite, and how you’re a fanatical believer in this Huey guy, too.”

  He glibly trotted out meaningless information. As if to say she didn’t want to hear any more of it, Chané dropped into a crouch again.

  “And how your Master Huey fella is immortal.”

  Once again, Chané stopped in her tracks. The situation seemed to entertain this Ladd. He knew everything, and on top of that, he’d hit his opponent with critical comments whenever she started to move.

  Chané decided not to listen to what the man said anymore. Lowering her stance for the third time, she launched herself at her foe. No matter what the man knew, she absolutely had to kill him now. Her stance was frighteningly low; she intended to slash at Ladd’s legs with her knife.

  However—and there was no telling what he was thinking—Ladd made his own stance about as low as Chané’s and began charging at her.

  Not only that, but he kept right on bantering as he did it.

  “But hey, listen, I’m a bit bummed out.”

  Ladd’s actions weren’t what Chané had expected, and she hesitated for a moment. As a result, there was a very slight delay before she thrust her knife out.

  “See, you…”

  Ladd’s voice receded. To Chané, it looked as though he’d been abruptly blown away.

  At the same time, a fierce shock ran through her jaw.

  Ladd had actually stepped within range of her knife strikes, then launched himself into a somersault. He’d done a backflip from his low stance, and in the process, he’d slammed his toes into Chané’s jaw.

  Her body had been as low as it would go, but now it was knocked upward all in a rush, and she rolled over and over toward the back of the car. She made the last revolution intentionally, in order to get back into her stance.

  “See, I thought you were, y’know, crazier, like you’d been possessed by a Martian or something, but you’re just some fanatic, in love with love? What’re you, a kid in her teens? Ah, yeah, I guess you’re actually out of your teens, huh? Say, don’t you think that Huey fella’s just taking you for a ride? Hmm?”

  Those words flipped Chané’s switch completely. She’d never thought of Huey as a lover. If she’d been able to do so, it might have been for the best, but she was Huey’s daughter. In her heart, that was something forbidden, and in fact, she’d always adored him as a father. However, to others, they looked like a man and woman who were about the same age. Someone who actually had a daughter would probably have been able to tell that their relationship wasn’t a romantic one, but unfortunately, the black suit who’d told Ladd about Chané hadn’t even had a girlfriend.

  Chané’s eyes opened wide, and she lowered her stance even more than before. Then she ran at Ladd with the launch velocity of a bullet.

  “Hya-ha-ha-ha, are ya mad? Are ya mad?”

  When he saw Chané’s expression, Ladd also realized that the situation might not be that simple. However, he had absolutely no intention of correcting himself. On the contrary: If his opponent was angry, her actions would be easier to predict, and that was all to the good.

  Cackling, Ladd stood his ground. However, it didn’t unsettle Chané this time. She got ready to slash Ladd’s throat along the trajectory she’d first visualized. When her body was right in front of him, she shot up to a higher stance.

  Mimicking the path of an airplane in steep ascent, Chané’s knife sli
ced through the wind.

  Having anticipated this, Ladd swayed with abnormal agility, dodging the strike. At the same time, he bent his knees deeply, lowering himself. Then he tried to sink a fist into her defenseless body.

  However, sensing that Chané’s form had bent drastically, he immediately scooted to the side.

  Chané’s legs swung up with terrific force. She’d attempted to unleash a somersault kick, just as Ladd had done a moment ago.

  “No ya don’t.”

  Ladd promptly grasped the situation, and while Chané was still airborne, he kicked her to the side, hard.

  Once again, she rolled fast, over and over, and dropped off the side of the train.

  “Huh? Done already? Already? That’s boring, ain’t it? Ain’t that sad?”

  Just then, a satisfying sound rang out: kashunk.

  “What the…?”

  Ladd looked down over the side and saw something unbelievable.

  Chané had stabbed the knives she held in each hand into the wall, keeping herself on the side of the train. She pulled out the knives and stabbed them back in again by turns, beginning to climb the wall at tremendous speed.

  Kashunk kashunk kashunk kshunk kshunk shunk shunk

  Gradually increasing the speed at which the knives stabbed and left the train, she climbed back up so fast she seemed to be running straight up the wall.

  “Whoa!”

  Just as Ladd dodged, Chané flew up from the side of the train like a rocket, passing right by him.

  He thought he’d evaded her by a hair, but a cut opened in his right ear, and a little blood trickled out.

  “Sorry ’bout that: You may actually be a Martian. Bet you really have about eight legs, don’tcha?”

  Having broken out in a cold sweat for the first time, Ladd quietly clenched his fists and began bouncing, light on his feet. Chané also shifted her grip on her knives, beginning to gauge the distance between herself and Ladd.

  Then, in that moment, something odd happened.

  The two of them were currently fighting on the last car, the one with the conductors’ room and the spare freight room. The only thing in the conductors’ room should have been the two corpses. And yet—