The Nine Pound Hammer

by John Claude Bemis

  Ray could not waste time crawling on hands and knees across the top of the train. He stood and sprinted. The cyclone-force wind pushed against him, but Ray steadied his steps and leaped from one car to the next until he reached the caboose.

  Ray jumped over the gap between the boxcar and the caboose, landing on the edge of the caboose in a tumble. He fell to the deck of the vestibule, nearly knocking Shacks and Si off their feet.

  Conker had his feet across the gap in the cars, the Nine Pound Hammer perched in the air as he readied to strike the pin loose.

  “NO!” Ray screamed.

  Conker looked up in fright. “What? What’s the matter, Ray?”

  “Don’t pull that pin! My sister’s on The Pitch Dark Train.”

  Conker got up onto the vestibule and helped Ray to his feet. Buck and Marisol were in the doorway to the boxcar, where they had been moving supplies from the caboose.

  “If we don’t release the caboose,” Buck said, “the Gog will catch us.”

  “But if you do, my sister will be killed,” Ray answered. “We’ve got no choice.”

  Buck turned to go back into the boxcar with Marisol. “Shacks,” he said. “Let’s get these rifles loaded.”

  Ray, Conker, and Si looked at one another as they stood on the vestibule, the fear of what was going to happen sinking in. The Pitch Dark Train would catch them now, and the Gog’s agents would attack. They would fight their way onto the Ballyhoo to get Jolie. The Gog had too many men even for Buck to hold off for long.

  Ray asked, “I wonder how long those soporifics we used to knock the Gog’s men out will work?”

  “Not long,” Conker answered. “Nel said he didn’t have much of the herbs left, so he made a mild version. That way he could spread it into more phials.”

  “So he can’t make any more?” Si asked.

  Conker shook his head.

  “What about the bottletrees?” Ray asked. “Couldn’t we use them to keep the Gog from getting onto the Ballyhoo?”

  Buck called from the doorway of the boxcar, “They won’t work on the train. They have to be placed in the earth. That’s where they draw their power from.”

  “The Snapdragon’s going to meet us at the Mississippi,” Ray said, struggling to find some faint spark of optimism. “We’ll have to hope the Gog won’t reach us before then. … ” He trailed off as he touched his hand to the toby. The rabbit’s foot was growing warm.

  At that moment, the train buckled heavily and a terrifying screech wailed as the wheels tore against the track. Ray found himself thrown, flying through the air along with Si and Conker. The three tumbled together through the doorway into the boxcar where Buck and Marisol and Shacks had been flung into a storm of flying crates and loose supplies.

  The caboose pushed against the groaning vestibule, nearly crushing into the boxcar. But the wheels settled again into motion, and although they were moving slower, the Ballyhoo was still going.

  “What just happened?” Ray shouted as he rolled over.

  “The Pitch Dark Train,” Buck said, getting to his feet stiffly. “It caught up with us.”

  Ray could see the blaze of The Pitch Dark Train’s headlamp illuminating the back of the Ballyhoo’s caboose in harsh yellow light. The two trains were ominously close to one another. Gunfire blasted over the caboose, scattering glass down from the cupola onto the floor below; Ray and the others ducked back into the boxcar.

  After the gunfire receded, Buck and Shacks rushed out onto the vestibule. The back half of the caboose had been crushed by the collision, and although they could not get through it to return gunfire, neither could the Gog’s men get through the damaged car. They would have to go over the top of the caboose.

  As Buck and Shacks climbed up the ladder to the top of the caboose, bullets whizzed and sparked around them. The two lay flat against the roof and began returning fire, round after round.

  “Give me another rifle!” Buck shouted. Marisol grabbed one and rushed up to exchange it with Buck’s empty rifle.

  Shacks dropped back down from the top of the caboose. “Do you know how to load a rifle?”

  As he explained, Marisol picked up one of the Spencers and began loading. Ray, Conker, and Si brought the extra rifles and boxes of cartridges out onto the vestibule so they could keep handing reloaded rifles to Buck and Shacks.

  Si leaned out around the side of the train to survey The Pitch Dark Train. She pulled back as a bullet buzzed past her face. “The Gog’s men are all over their locomotive. If they ram us again, they can hold their train against ours while their men storm the Ballyhoo.”

  “What should we do to help?” Ray asked.

  Shacks pushed past Conker and Si to climb back up with one of the Spencer rifles. “Just keep down so you don’t get shot!”

  The Pitch Dark Train collided once more with the back of the Ballyhoo. Buck and Shacks took cover at the top of the caboose, crouching side by side on the ladders as the gunfire thickened. As it slowed momentarily, they popped back up to return fire around the cupola.

  “Nearly got me!” Shacks snarled, and wheeled back up to fire over and over.

  Nel stepped out onto the vestibule carrying a broken-off broom handle, its splintered end wrapped in damp, vaporous rags. He handed it to Conker along with a box of stove matches. “Get this lit,” he said. Nel slowly climbed the ladder to Buck, pulling himself up by his arms. He stayed low, keeping his head beneath the top of the train car.

  “Our caboose seems to be the worse for wear,” Nel said.

  Buck grunted and fired the Spencer. “Rear brakes are certainly ruined. Going to have a hard time stopping the Ballyhoo.”

  “How are you faring?” Nel asked.

  Buck steadied the Spencer and fired, hitting one of the Gog’s men as he sprang around the cupola. The agent tumbled from the side of the caboose.

  “Been in worse spots,” Buck said. “Nevertheless it’s hard to sniff them out with this wind.”

  Ray took a quick peek around the side of the caboose. The Pitch Dark Train had crushed its way into the back of the caboose. The two trains were now joined, allowing the Gog’s men to crawl across their own locomotive and leap onto the back of the Ballyhoo. Many of the Gog’s men held positions on the broken balcony of the Ballyhoo’s, caboose and some seemed to have made their way up behind the cupola, firing across the top of the caboose at Buck and Shacks. So far, Buck and Shacks had managed to pick off any of the Gog’s men who came around the cupola.

  “They’ll be preparing to come across the roof at us soon,” Buck said.

  “And then?” Nel asked, reaching back to take a reloaded rifle from Marisol.

  “I’m a realist, Nel. We’ll take quite a few with us, but not all of them.”

  Nel nodded. Buck discharged the last bullet in the Spencer and dropped it down to Marisol. Nel placed the reloaded rifle in Buck’s hand. An eruption of gunfire came from the Gog’s men, scattering sparks across the top of the caboose.

  “I’ve prepared something. It just might meliorate our injurious standing,” Nel said.

  “English, if you don’t mind,” Buck said. He took aim and fired at one of the Gog’s agents. His shot missed, but the man was forced to take cover behind the cupola.

  “I made something that might help,” Nel said.

  Shacks glanced over at Buck and Nel, and then leaned around the side of the caboose and shot one of the Gog’s men. Ray listened anxiously with Conker and Si.

  “More potions?” Buck asked.

  “I had no time for root work, but given the urgency of the situation, I was able to put something together that might be just as effective.”

  Shacks took a new rifle. “There’s nearly ten of them on the back side of the cupola. They’re readying to storm us.”

  From a satchel twisted over his shoulder, Nel pulled out a bottle with a bit of cloth snaking from the mouth. Ray looked at it curiously.

  Buck sniffed and then gave a grim smile. “Kerosene.” The whine of
a bullet passed Buck’s ear.

  Nel called down the ladder. “Conker, have you got that torch lit?”

  “They’re about to charge!” Shacks shouted.

  Conker lifted the broom, its flames whipping in the fierce wind of the moving train. “Hold her steady,” Nel said as he dipped the bottle’s fuse into the flame. When the flame caught, Nel pulled himself up over the top of the caboose. Ray leaned out cautiously to see what was going to happen.

  “Here they come!” Shacks called.

  Four of the Gog’s men fired rapidly from the back of the caboose. Other agents charged forward around the cupola. Shacks cried out as a bullet grazed his neck. He dropped the Spencer and tumbled backward, landing on the vestibule between the train cars. The rifle clattered and disappeared onto the track below.

  Nel threw the lit kerosene bottle; it smashed on the cupola’s roof, encasing the dome in flames. Burning liquid spread, splashing onto the charging men. Several screamed and dropped back onto the smashed balcony. Others beat at their burning clothes helplessly and fell from the sides of the train.

  Ray turned to Conker. “We’ve got to do something. My sister’s back there. It’s not just a matter of fighting off the Gog’s men. We’ve got to get her and those orphans.”

  Shacks called over to Nel as he climbed back up. “I remember this stretch of track. There’s a tunnel coming up, if I’m right.”

  “What good is that?” Nel asked.

  “Hold your fire a moment, Buck,” Shacks said. “Nel’s flames are already dying back. They’ll try again to get through. Let the Gog’s men come up a ways. Then, Nel, you throw another one of those bombs.”

  “Yes,” Nel said. “The flames will be concentrated by the tunnel. … ”

  “I’ve got a plan, too,” Conker mumbled to Ray and Si. He looked at Ray with hard, dark eyes as he thought. At that moment, Conker looked terrifying. Ray had seen him this way once before: the night that he had woken Conker from the dream about his father fighting the Machine.

  The whistle blew from the Ballyhoo’s locomotive. Conker turned at the sound.

  “That’s the tunnel,” Shacks said. “Throw it, Nel!”

  The top of the caboose erupted in flame.

  “Come on, quick!” Conker said.

  “What?” Ray asked.

  “Before we reach that tunnel. Quick, up the ladder. Si, you too.”

  Si looked to Marisol, who was loading the next rifle to pass up to Buck and Shacks. “I can handle this,” Marisol assured her.

  The gunfire had stopped as the Gog’s men fought to escape the flames and got down before the tunnel.

  Conker, Si, and Ray climbed to the top of the boxcar. Ray could see the dark form of a hill coming toward the front of the train. Conker stood, balancing himself atop the swaying train. He slid the hammer into his belt and pulled Ray and Si to their feet.

  “Grab ahold of my back. Real tight,” he added.

  Ray looked ahead in terror as he saw the front of the Ballyhoo enter the tunnel. Any second, the masonry face above the tunnel was going to crush them from the top of the train.

  “Conker?” Ray cried.

  “Hold on!” Conker roared. Si reached her hands around Conker’s neck, and Ray hurried to cling on behind her. Just before they met the tunnel, Conker jumped.

  The impact would have smashed any ordinary man like an insect. But carrying the Nine Pound Hammer, Conker was no ordinary man. When he hit, his enormous body absorbed the blow. Ray felt rattled as his chin struck Si on her shoulder blade, but he held on tightly.

  Conker’s fingers dug into the mortar. Ray felt dizzy as he watched the trains speeding by below them. He could now see that Si had been right. Clinging to the sides of The Pitch Dark Train’s locomotive and its tender were men clutching rifles, ready to board the Ballyhoo to recapture Jolie.

  Ray could not tell how many men there were as the train passed quickly beneath him, but there were many—too many. He could see other men rushing from car to car across the vestibules, all running toward the locomotive for the battle.

  “Ready?” Conker grunted over his shoulder. And before Ray could get ready, Conker pushed off with one powerful arm, flipping around to land on his stomach on the top of The Pitch Dark Train. As Ray rolled off his back, he felt Conker’s hand pin his shoulders to the car as they entered the tunnel, its ceiling whirling past, several feet overhead. Within a moment they were out the other side, and Conker let go.

  “Y’all okay?” he asked. Ray sat up, grabbed a guard rail, and looked around. They were midway down the length of The Pitch Dark Train, far behind the shouting voices and gunfire.

  Si grunted and gasped for breath. Apparently, he had been holding her down, too. Conker helped her sit up, and Si held a hand to her chest. “Knocked … the wind … out of me,” she managed to say.

  “Sorry,” Conker said.

  “Big … oaf,” she wheezed.

  Getting to his knees, Ray held the guardrails tightly to keep steady against the sway of the train and the tremendous gale-force wind. Conker pulled the Nine Pound Hammer from his belt and clutched it with one hand.

  “Do you know where the children are?” Conker called over the howling wind.

  “Jolie said they were toward the back of the train,” Ray shouted. “But they could be in more than one car.”

  “We’ll check the others,” Conker said. He nodded toward the middle of the boxcar’s top they were on. Ray and Si followed him.

  Conker crouched over the handle for a hatch in the roof of the boxcar. He stuck his head down into it. “Not here,” he said. “Get on and try the next one.”

  It was slow moving across the top of the train car, and only Ray’s eagerness to find his sister kept him brave against the fear of being flung over the side. They jumped across the gap between the train cars and checked the next hatch. The boxcar had an assortment of crates and foodstuffs, but no children.

  “Just a few more,” Si said, closing the hatch and leading them to the next car. As she opened it, she turned her head curiously. “Something’s in there.”

  The rabbit’s foot was blazing through the toby.

  A roar exploded from the opening and a heavy smash rocked the ceiling, nearly knocking the three from the top of the boxcar. Ray swung around onto his back, holding on with one hand to the guardrail.

  “Hoarhound!” Conker shouted. They were toppled again as the beast leaped into the ceiling, this time cracking the joints of the boxcar’s frame beneath their feet. The three scrambled to the end and leaped onto the next car, the one where Jolie had been prisoner. The Hound continued to shake the train ferociously.

  They kept going, to the next one. Squealing voices of terror issued from inside the boxcar—children’s voices. “In here!” Ray said. Before he could reach the hatch, a man climbed up the ladder on the far end of the car. His bowler hat flipped away in the wind as he reached the top. He pulled out a pistol and tried to aim it as he swayed on the top of the train. Conker charged across the car. The man’s eyes widened in terror as he fired.

  Conker pulled back slightly as the bullet thudded into his shoulder. The man’s next shot went wild, and Conker swept him from the top of the train with his hammer. The man shouted as he disappeared into the dark.

  “You okay?” Ray called.

  Conker held his hand to his shoulder and nodded. Ray turned back and tore open the hatch, calling into the dark, “Sally!”

  Some of the children were crying, others murmuring and whimpering in terror. But a small, shaking voice rose above them, “Ray? Is that you?”

  “Sally,” he said again, and slid his feet in through the opening of the hatch. The children moved aside as Ray dropped in among them. There was no light except for the dim glow from the square of starry night at the hatch above. The children surged forward from the benches all at once to grab on to Ray. There were many more than those who had traveled with him from Miss Corey’s orphanage, but those who knew Ray called out his name and c
lutched his arms.

  “It’s okay,” he assured the group. “We’re getting you out of here. Where’s Sally?”

  “I’m here!” Ray heard her voice in the dark but could not see her. Trying to be gentle with the scared children that clung to his arms, Ray pushed toward Sally’s voice.

  “Sally!” he cried. He could not see her, but when he felt the arms go around his neck, smelled her hair, and heard her voice in his ear as he lifted her, he knew it was her. “I found you,” he choked.

  “Ray—Ray—Ray,” she said over and over.

  Conker’s face darkened the hatch above. “Ray, Si’s opening the door on the caboose side. Get them down there.”

  Ray felt the train rock once more and knew the Hoarhound was working its way out of its cage. When he led the children—there must have been thirty or more—toward the door, he heard the lock click. Si opened the door onto the vestibule.

  The Pitch Dark Train shook again. Si led them into Grevol’s parlor and then down the hallway of his ornate sleeper car until they reached the door for the caboose. “Come on,” she said, waving her hand to hurry the children. “Get in quick.”

  “Is the Hound out?” Ray called up to Conker.

  From above, Conker leaned over. “He’s near through, Ray.”

  “What are we going to do?” Ray asked.

  Conker came down the ladder, his sleeve wet and dark with blood. “Got to get these children to safety.”

  “How?”

  Conker nodded down beneath their feet to the pin that held the caboose to the rest of the train. “Going to bust that pin out and set the caboose loose.”

  The Hoarhound roared, its voice loud now in the open air. “It’s free!” Ray said.

  “I got to have time to work the pin loose,” Conker said. Ray understood and began climbing up the ladder toward the top of the train and the Hoarhound. He would have to hold off the Hound to give Conker time to save the children.

  Si herded all the children into the caboose, but Sally was pushing her way back through the mass of children. “Ray!” she cried.

  “Stay there,” Ray said over his shoulder. “Stay with Si.”