Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2)

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Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2) Page 32

by Brian S. Leon


  Late in the afternoon, a team of a dozen workers began to haul crates and boxes from one freight car and stack them up underneath the shed below me under the supervision of one of the four-man teams of soldiers. Twice, the soldiers screamed at the workers, and both times, I could hear savage beatings and anguished cries ensue. The second time, two of the workers had to carry a third into the nearby apartments outside the tracks. It was all I could do to stay out of it, knowing it was not my place to interfere in human conflicts, but I hated bullies—nonhuman or otherwise. I had to keep reminding myself of my mission.

  As dusk approached, the hustle and bustle died down quickly, and workers began returning to the apartments. The only thing that didn’t stop was the roar of the diesel engines on the big trucks as they roamed the village. Sentries, walking in two-man teams, appeared at regular intervals around the town, as well, particularly around the train station and workers’ residences.

  The town had come alive with not only sounds, but also smells: people, vehicles, and especially cooking. I’d been up on the cold metal roof for almost twenty-four hours, and the smells reminded me of how hungry I was. I needed a break, too. Even with the roaming sentries and the influx of residents, sneaking out of town and back to camp proved easy enough, and I found I actually had to stop myself from wanting to wander around among the residents unseen. Damn side effects of the cloak.

  During the next few days, I made a point of going back to my roost at various times in order to find out how difficult it would be to sneak around while people were here. Thankfully, people, no matter where they are, always function as if everything was normal. And in the small village in the isolated country, where almost nothing extraordinary ever happened, the soldiers and people—clearly the presidential vanguard—were operating on autopilot. Bae and Jae-Hwa, the invisible brothers, began performing pranks on the townsfolk. I wanted everyone spooked and expectant of odd happenings, maybe even a bit frightened. When the time came, it would make my sneaking onto the train easier.

  Most of their pranks were simple, like tools or objects disappearing and reappearing in different locations or unexplained noises. The brothers took particular delight in leading one four-man team into an alleyway between the apartments by creating soft scraping noises along the walls. Once the team was within the narrow confines of the space, Bae tripped the man at the rear of the group while Jae-Hwa pushed the man at the front, causing them to careen into the middle two, collapsing them all into an awkward pile as the men screamed and shouted.

  One afternoon, the four-man patrol that had beaten the worker a few days earlier stopped underneath the shed to have lunch. After convincing myself that beating them silly would be too risky, I settled for repeatedly whispering, “You will pay for what you’ve done,” in Korean until the four became so spooked that they left in a rush, tripping over each other as they hurried off. At least that part of my plan was working.

  That evening, feeling smug and secure in my invisibility, I snuck into the apartment of an old man after he’d finished up his chores for the day. I stood in his small apartment as he cooked, ate, and listened to the radio, never knowing I was five feet away. As he prepared for bed, a thunderous commotion out under the shed where I normally hid drew out the entire population of the barracks around the train tracks right before the generators cut out for the evening. I followed under cover of the cloak and the furor and found that at least half the boxes and crates under the structure had toppled over, some breaking open and spilling across the ground. Then something in the cold night air struck me, and I realized what I was doing. I quickly snuck to the edge of town and threw off the heavy cloak, suddenly drained. I was trying to refocus on the mission at hand as Bae and Jae-Hwa showed up, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “We apologize for the severity of the distraction, but we lost track of you,” Bae said. “We had been trying to inform you the other trains are on the way and should arrive after sunup.”

  The effects of the cloak were weighing on me more than I’d expected, but if the brothers were right, it would all be over soon.

  Chapter 37

  At first light, things were once again different in the village. Several platoons of soldiers armed with metal detectors and other electronic equipment began walking up the train tracks, examining the rails, ties, and the surrounding ground like a gaggle of treasure hunters at the beach. Overall, the vibe was even more ramped up than it had been over the last few days, and I could feel my adrenaline build when I realized Kim had to be close.

  Later that morning, from my roost on the shed, I watched the first of three trains approach and checked my watch to verify timing. Once the first dark-green ninety-car train arrived, hundreds of soldiers poured out and began swarming the town like locusts. Some went on foot back up the line, again checking the rails and ties for anything out of the ordinary. Others pulled five boxy, antiquated black limousines out of the stationhouse and lined them up next to the covered landing. The red, white, and pale-blue ensigns of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea along with the similarly colored Supreme Commander of the Korean People’s Army flag adorned with a gold emblem flew from each of their fenders. The remaining troops—two full platoons of fifty soldiers each—formed up ranks for inspection at the railway station, and a team of people with bullhorns organized a throng of civilian workers into an orderly crowd. I remained stock-still under the cloak, waiting for my opportunity to sneak aboard the train.

  In the near distance, a second massive green train approached. I eyed my watch under the cloak as the train pulled in: twenty-two minutes. Every soldier I could see stopped, stood at attention, and saluted while the gathered workers were encouraged to clap and cheer exuberantly. I watched the surprisingly diminutive form of Kim Jong-Il emerge from under the covered landing on the opposite side of the train. His bizarre spiky hair and short stature were hard to miss among the cadre of taller, hat-wearing attendants and ministers traveling with him. Though I couldn’t tell for sure from my vantage point, he seemed to exit from the third rail car at the rear of the train and entered the nearest limo, along with two other people dressed in uniform. Others climbed into the remaining limos in groups of four, and as soon as the last limo door closed, they took off with Kim’s limo taking up the second position in the procession. The five-limousine procession headed toward the largest structure in the village—some sort of presidential residence. It appeared he was staying the night, which would give me plenty of time to sneak onboard.

  The moment Kim left, the area around the trains became alive again with action, with more transport trucks pulling in where the limos had been. From over the hill behind the town, two massive old Mi-17 helicopters roared to a field north of town. One peeled off and landed, and the other headed straight for the train station before landing in the only open area among the apartments outside the tracks. Soldiers pulling handcarts and massive dollies swarmed it upon touchdown. They offloaded several dozen more crates of various sizes and pulled them straight under the shed below me. Suddenly so much was going on in the village that I couldn’t safely follow Kim, but I was also sure that the level of activity would keep the Hanner Brid from attacking him in the city. Instead of worrying about that possibility, I chose to focus on getting aboard that train.

  Fifty-five minutes later, the last of the three trains arrived, though no one stopped to acknowledge it. The people below spend the next four hours unloading crates and equipment from the train. With the town now fully alive, Bae and Jae-Hwa shifted into full prank mode, causing mischief everywhere and anywhere they could manage. Eventually the chaos around the train station died off, but even after things calmed down, I still counted no fewer than forty soldiers within fifty yards of the trains at all times, not including those still onboard.

  As the sun was setting, the two helicopters took off toward the north, and once again, workers started to file back to their apartments. Things slowed
considerably, but the number of men around the tracks remained constant.

  While the engines stayed running continuously, the trains had few windows, so it was impossible to see what was going on inside them. Shadows from the lights of the covered landing suggested several more guards stood watch outside the third car where I’d seen Kim disembark.

  After one particularly edgy patrol passed me, starting at every little noise and even for no apparent reason, I signaled the brothers and jumped down from my roost. Still draped in the cloak, I slowly made my way around the back of the trains, fighting the urge to be brazen about my approach. The cargo doors were open in the last two rail cars of Kim’s train, but guards were stationed only outside a closed door in the third rail car. The last two carriages were apparently used for storage of some kind, and both were largely empty. I needed to get aboard one of those cars.

  Bae and Jae-Hwa suddenly shoved the train, rocking it from side to side, causing the guards to quickly back away from their posts. After a moment, the startled guards crept around cautiously, guns at the ready, trying to figure out the cause. The pair of Dokkaebi even stomped around inside the two open rail cars, provoking shouts and pointing from the soldiers, who retreated to a nearby building, leaving the train completely unattended.

  I jumped aboard the freight car closest to Kim’s private car. Inside, I quickly found a narrow space between two stacks of crates already secured in place, pulled the cloak around me, and hunkered down. From my limited vantage point, I watched as the brothers continued their pranks—until all hell broke loose outside. Intensely bright security lights lit up the paddock around the trains as bright as day, and automatic gunfire erupted from somewhere beyond the train. Seconds later, the spooked soldiers ran past, guns pointed and firing randomly as they pursued something toward the outskirts of the village. Several of the soldiers wore thermal imaging equipment over their helmets. They had to be chasing the brothers, whose caps wouldn’t shield them from that technology. For a few moments, I debated whether to help them, but before I could decide, another group of IR-goggle-clad soldiers entered my freight car. I held my breath while the soldiers quickly examined the space I occupied without a second glance and kept moving.

  The gunfire died down quickly, and the soldiers all gathered outside my car to talk. As I hoped, they were frightened and on edge, and it was clear their leader didn’t want to tell anyone else what was happening because of the odd nature of the events. The unit continued actively searching and examining every sound around the train the rest of the night. Despite their use of infrared equipment within feet of me multiple times, never once did they detect my presence.

  Before the sun began to rise, the rail yard came to life again. Throngs of workers and soldiers flooded the train yard and began to board one of the other trains. This is it.

  Around midmorning, the first presidential train left, and another security team began searching my car again. Instead of hiding at the back of the space, I found myself standing at the mouth of the narrow corridor between the stacks of crates as an overly curious young soldier shined a flashlight around in the darkness. Something caught his eye as he swept the beam over me, and my heart raced with excitement. Part of me dared him to find me. Sure enough, the guard pulled his sidearm and stepped down the narrow alley between the crates. Probing around with his gun, he brushed the cloak, making an odd tinkling sound that caused him to jerk back. Someone from outside the car called, and he turned to reply. Before he could utter a word, my hand shot out from under the cloak, striking him hard in the solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping for breath.

  I threw the cloak partially aside, pulled the limp guard back to the end of the narrow space, and covered us with the cloak, keeping one hand pressed over his mouth. Fighting every urge to simply snap his neck, I instead choked him into unconsciousness. From my hidey-hole at the back of the space, with my heart pounding, I watched as another guard poked his head into the car and called out, searching for someone. Another voice from farther away called to him as the activity level around the train began to rise again. The guard turned and briefly argued with someone about having to secure the car, pointed back into the car, then suddenly stormed off, muttering to himself. Then the heavy doors of the freight car slid closed.

  I could feel the vibrations and hear people boarding my train as I sat in the darkness of the closed-up freight car. Finally, the train lurched forward. I’d had enough waiting and skulking. I was ready to finally ditch the cloak and end the whole thing. If my calculations were correct, we would pass through the first tunnel within the hour.

  Chapter 38

  I tied up the unconscious guard using his bootlaces, gagged him, then covered him with the cloak, keeping it and him hidden and out of the way during the fight. It was good to be out from under the damned thing on several levels, and I finally felt in control of myself again. In the darkness, I checked my knives and swords then chambered a round in my sidearms and secured the safeties, all by feel. I kept checking my watch. I forced myself to relax by controlling my breathing, rolling my shoulders, tilting my head around, and flexing my hands.

  Forty minutes later, as I concentrated on breathing exercises, a commotion began to rise outside the train, followed by a raucous screech of the train’s wheels on the tracks and an odd jerky movement of the car. A thunderous explosion behind my car rocked the train, and I braced myself against the crates as the train slammed to a violent stop. Crates and boxes went flying in the darkness, and seconds later, all hell broke loose outside. Based on timing, I knew we were definitely far enough along the track to be in the target zone.

  Shouts and automatic gunfire became louder and more consistent as the train rocked side to side on the tracks. Over the muffled din of people yelling, a heavy metallic thunk rang out, followed by the hissing sound of a pressure seal engaging from the door between my car and Kim’s private car. On the other side of the door, heavy automatic gunfire pelted the outside of the heavily armored freight car along both its flanks. Yelling quickly became screaming and frantic shouting.

  I got to the windowless door between cars but found it locked. I jammed one of my swords into the area around the handle and pushed, depressurizing the locking mechanism. I shoved the door open to find the area between cars was an enclosed flexible gangway riddled with bullet holes. I pressed into the recessed doorway on the next car and pried it open. The instant I stuck the sword into the door, a volley of bullets pelted the other side.

  I wiggled the sword as it protruded through the door, drawing more automatic gunfire. Once I knew the door was loose in its track, I pulled my other sword, pushed the door open as fast as I could, and ducked back into the enclosed gangway between the cars. Dozens of rounds peppered the other car through the now-open doorway. The second the first spent magazine dropped, I stepped through the entryway, put a foot into the chest of a man on my left, and punched another to my right in the face, feeling his nose break. I spun back and brought the pommel of the sword in my left hand down on the helmet of the soldier I’d kicked, cracking his helmet and knocking him out.

  I was in a small enclosed sentry post. On the other side of the tiny space was another windowless door. Though clad in wood, it was heavily armored underneath. Again, I pried open the door and ducked back to one side. Automatic gunfire ripped through the open door and into one of the guards I’d knocked unconscious. Staying in cover, I knelt and tried to pull the unfortunate soldier clear, but he’d already taken several rounds to the torso. I didn’t have time to help him properly.

  An explosion ripped through the hallway from the other end of the train, accompanied by screaming and a multitude of high-pitched shouts in Korean, followed by more automatic gunfire. The newest volley had a much different timbre—a small-caliber weapon, not the heavy rattle of the AK-47s and -74s the Koreans used. A significant explosion went off several cars behind me, rocking the train wildly. I assumed the s
mall-arms fire was the Hanner Brid—or his team—as they breached the train while the explosion behind me was the rear engine car being destroyed.

  Remaining low, I poked my head around the doorjamb to catch a glimpse into a smoke-filled long, dark wood-paneled hallway lit only by scattered emergency lighting. On the left, the two heavily armored outer doors into the car I had seen guarded at the station were both still intact. On the right, one of the doors had been ripped off its track. The transom entryway at the other end of the car was blown wide open, and the bodies of several Korean soldiers lay bloody and motionless along the hall. The smell of blood and the bitter sulfuric odor of gunpowder filled the corridor.

  “Hey, dickhead!” I screamed, in an attempt to discern if the Hanner Brid was there and where he was exactly. “You really think I’m going to let you get away with this?”

  A gunman appeared and sent a hail of bullets down the hallway. I ducked back behind the jamb of the sentry post. I couldn’t tell for sure, but the gunman didn’t appear to be a North Korean, reinforcing my notion that the Hanner Brid hadn’t come alone. On the upside, the gunman definitely didn’t have an odd or inhuman aura, so it wasn’t the Hanner Brid or some other supernatural being. On the downside, that meant he was using humans.

 

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