Raildogs

by Rejean Giguere

  Rashad came in hard behind him, kicking the guy in his exposed ribs as he lay there sprawled on the ground. As their victim’s body curled forward in a fetal position to protect his ribs, Rashad kicked him full in the face. Doug watched the head snap back with a sickening crack.

  One down.

  He turned to take in the rest of the action. Devon was sitting on another kid’s chest, dropping bombs in with his fists while someone else helped him by sitting on the legs. His men always fought in groups of two or more. They’d been taught to take their opponents out one at a time, and make sure they stayed down.

  The kids were trying, but two were already out of the fight, another one was being kicked by a pair of Raildogs every time he tried to get up, a fourth took off running up the tracks. The dust settled a bit and only two remained. They stood in the center of the circle as the Raildogs took a second to catch their breaths.

  Doug liked these odds a lot better, six on two. That was more like it. They could have taken their time with these guys. No money was on the line, but there was still a lesson to be given. Unfortunately, the train would probably be moving again soon and they had a party to get to.

  “Okay boys, finish this up. Train’s gonna be moving soon.”

  He reluctantly headed for the parked train, knowing what was coming next. The two kids kept turning, attempting to square off with his crew surrounding them, wondering who was going to come at them first. He grinned, they were in for a surprise. He didn’t turn when he heard the shouts of, “Raildogs rule”.

  The gang jumped forward and five men closed the circle. The kicks and punches were too much for the two kids and the blows slowly reduced them to mounds on the ground. Doug knew it wasn’t any better down there as the sound of kicks took over.

  By the time he jumped up into the open doorway of the boxcar to sit and watch his guys, they were already on their way back. They climbed up into the car fist bumping and high fiving. None of them gave a thought about the bodies left abandoned in the yard as they started replaying the fight.

  Doug kept an eye on the crumpled forms on the ground until he felt the train start to move below him.

  *****

  Des Moines, Iowa

  A figure sat hunched on the top of a garden shed, tucked under a large tree. The darkness kept him well hidden, yet gave him a clear view into the back yard of the house next door.

  He watched, as he had for the last three hours, while the party raged on. It hadn’t been hard to find them when you knew where to look. He’d waited at the rail yards and watched them arrive. Keeping a distance, he’d followed them to this house. Finding the shed and big tree in the next yard had been a sign. It was meant to be.

  It looked like fifteen, maybe twenty guys drinking and toking up a storm. The figure kept watching like he was searching for someone in particular. When the limo pulled up in front of the house he eyed it between the buildings.

  The women climbing out of the long car looked ready to party in their short dresses and high heels. He could see things were going to pick up. He was going to be in for a long night, but some how he kept still and waited.

  Later, when two men came out on the back deck he focused in.

  “Been a good month Doug, but I’m pretty beat.”

  The figure leaned forward in the dark.

  “I know what you mean, but for ten years it’s been going like clockwork.”

  “You sticking around long? We should get out together.”

  “No I can’t, heading out in the morning.” The first one laughed. “Might miss the big score.” They clanked their bottles together, then turned for the house.

  “Let’s get back to the ass.”

  The figure crouched on the shed smiled. That was the news he was waiting for. He could get off the shed and find somewhere to rest up for what was left of the night. He was revved up. He’d be leaving with them in the morning.

  Chapter 8

  Reno, Nevada

  Sarah Perez walked the grounds with an urgency in her step. She’d been energized since David’s last visit. She stalked down the pathway without noticing the blooming flowers or hearing the chirping in the overhanging trees.

  If any one noticed, they’d see the extra bounce in her step and the slight crack of a smile on the edges of her lips once in a while. She stopped and looked up at her room above. Then she noticed a figure move by her window.

  “Bastard.” She muttered to herself. She’d known someone was in her room whenever she was out. She wasn’t supposed to notice, but one time she’d found things moved and now made a point of placing things in specific positions. It helped to track what had been touched.

  The good feelings she had been enjoying vanished and she turned for the building. She entered her room, closing the door and just stared. It wasn’t a game, but she needed to know what he’d done.

  One particular daytime staffer was always around. She was sure the creep was in her room every time she was out on her walk. It freaked her out, but he was too chickenshit to be a threat.

  Walking around the room she took inventory. He’d been in her clothes drawers, into her perfumes and powders, and the bed had been sat or laid on. She tried to picture the idiot in her stuff. What was he doing? It was a violation, and it really pissed her off.

  She didn’t like the one who brought the food, or this asshole either. Christ, she didn’t like anyone in this place. Sarah double checked the lock and then slid the bed away from the wall. Reaching in under the mattress, all the way into the middle of the bed, she struggled to bring out the little wrapped package.

  Taking it over to the chair by the window, she sat down. She found herself giddy as she looked down. Gingerly, like she might damage the contents, she slowly unfolded the silk handkerchief to reveal the flower.

  She realized she was shaking as she reached down to gently wrap her fingers around the stem and took a second to steady her hand. Bringing it up in front of her face, she tried to appreciate the color of the petals, but her hand started to shake again.

  Suddenly there were teardrops landing in her lap. Looking down through blurry eyes, she saw she was squeezing the stem so hard it was flattening in her fingers and the flower head drooped to the side.

  Sarah found her composure and wiped at her eyes. She placed the flower down delicately in the small silk square and slowly wrapped it up again. With her hands clasped on her lap holding the package, Sarah fought down the excitement.

  Don’t let me down David.

  *****

  Colorado

  Bart threw his pack up on the locomotive. Danny’s suitcase followed.

  “You got to get rid of that case man. It’s going to bring us trouble.”

  Danny had already thought about that, he realized it didn’t look too cool. Cheyenne had woken him up. He’d be getting some other kind of bag as soon as he could. “I know man. I know.”

  Danny was stoked by the thought of riding in a locomotive. The long freight trains sometimes had a second locomotive in the middle of the cars that was run remotely from the front end of the train.

  It should be empty, and a hell of a lot more comfortable than the steel decking of a rail car. Danny got to the door first and yelled in triumph when it opened. The two kids couldn’t believe their luck. The inside of the locomotive was warm, and there were a leather sofa and plush driver’s seat.

  “Right on man. Jesus, this is cool.” Bart seemed beside himself.

  Danny was as amped up as his buddy was, “Awesome man. Awesome.”

  An hour later the boys had made the engine their own. Bart commandeered the drivers seat, feet propped up in the corner between the dash and the front window. Danny was cooking with his little camp stove sitting nicely on the counter.

  “What do we do when we hit a station?” Danny was trying to think ahead.

  “No big deal.” His partner shrugged his shoulders. “We just stay down hidden until we leave. Easier in here than on the back of a rail c
ar.”

  Danny figured he was probably right. If something else happened they’d have to deal with it then. Looking around at the inside of the locomotive he couldn’t help but grin. First class travel, that’s what this was. He wondered about Bart now that they were on the road. The guy looked tough, but was he really? What could have happened back in Cheyenne?

  He hadn’t been in a lot of fights, the few in public school had mostly involved bullies picking on him, and he hadn’t done much to defend himself. This was a whole new ball game out here on the road and he was starting to think about what he’d have to do if they got attacked. Like a lot of things he did, he was running through all the possible scenarios.

  Bart let out a long hoot and faked pulling on a horn. As Danny watched him he couldn’t help but feel that his friend was more of a joker than a gangster. Based on the violence he’d seen so far on this trip, they were probably going to get the chance to find out how tough they were sooner or later. The more he thought about it, the more he worried about what was ahead.

  “Hoot, hoot, next stop Florida.” Bart laughed.

  “Yeah, sure Bart. This soup is ready to eat. So get your ass over here”

  *****

  Missouri

  Maria kept reassuring Raul she was alright when he woke up from his sleep to check on her.

  The truth was she wasn’t alright. It was daytime and they were miles away from the station where they spent the previous night, but she was still scared.

  She’d been confused when he shook her awake in the dark of night. One thing was sure, she wouldn’t ever travel on a freight train again.

  He said he wanted her ready in case they needed to run or hide. Her brain kicked in when he pointed out the gang of thugs nearby. First she heard the music. Then the shouts made their way over to her, and she’d frozen with fear.

  They had stayed out of sight while they watched the fight. Some guys calling themselves Raildogs had beat the shit out of this other group of guys. She’d never seen anything like it. Brutal.

  The only good thing was it didn’t last long. Then the gang climbed on a train that was moving out of the yard. She had been making ready to move when Raul had stopped her dead. “Don’t move Maria.” His hand stayed out in the air, palm open, right up her face. “Not an inch.”

  They had waited silently, keeping an eye on the bodies crumpled on the ground. When their own train jerked into life, the relief was like a blanket smothering her.

  Now the next day, they were flying along the track, sun beating down, and Raul was relaxed enough to catch up on some sleep. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

  Maria, on the other hand had a lot.

  She couldn’t rest and didn’t want to alarm him, but the scenes in her head wouldn’t go away. She was worried about what lay ahead. Were they heading for trouble, or was he really going to be able to get them all the way to Mexico safely?

  She sat there with her arms wrapped around her legs. Raul had been tough the first time she met him. She’d watched him beat two guys down right there in front of everyone in the bar that first night. His strength had impressed her.

  She was new to New York and it turned out so was he. He sat by himself at the bar nursing a shot after the fight. Ordering two for herself, she’d banged them back.

  He’d turned then and taken a closer look at her. “Easy woman. You in a hurry?” he asked.

  Maria had deliberately batted her eyelashes, and placed her hand on his thigh while she stared him in the eye. “Well actually yes, I am in a hurry.”

  Raul completed the turn and faced her, smiling. They hadn’t been apart since.

  Now swaying with the motion of the train she let the scenes from last night slip in again, and for the first time she had to wonder, was she making a mistake?

  *****

  Spokane, Washington

  Cliffy felt the train slowing down, finally he was in Spokane. This was a good test, he would see how the crew was handling the situation. Was anyone taking control? Calling the shots?

  Riding at the door, watching for anything, he noticed a guy in the bushes as the train pulled into the station. He seemed to be talking into a cell phone. A quick surge of adrenaline caught him off guard as he thought about the psycho. Was he waiting?

  He didn’t wait for the train to stop, he was off and moving away from it while it was still rolling. He didn’t get far before two guys headed his way from behind a building. They must have anticipated him jumping off early, or they were warned by the guy in the bushes on the cell phone.

  Stopping, he gauged the threat, watching them as they approached. Instead the guy put his arm out, wrist up, so Cliff could see the tattoo.

  “Hi there, Mikey’s the name. This here is Philly.” The first one was clearly in charge.

  “Good to meet you boys. Wish it wasn’t like this.” He stuck out his hand and they both took it, tentatively.

  “Okay Mikey, show me the crew.”

  An hour later, after meeting the other men in an abandoned warehouse off the yard, Cliff pulled Mikey aside.

  “You know how things work right?”

  Albert’s lieutenant outlined what he had been told. What he’d been responsible for, and who ran the other sections. “Albert told me to keep it to myself.”

  “And did you? Did you tell anyone?” Cliff watched the younger man’s face for any sign of a lie.

  “Nope. I knew it was a privilege.”

  They sat there silently for a while and Cliff made a decision. “Okay Mikey, I’ll give you the crew. You get the monthly dues. You need to replace the men you lost. And you need to do whatever you have to get hold of the section.”

  Mikey nodded vigorously, obviously trying to hide his pleasure at being chosen.

  “I want to hear from you daily for the next while. You got any problems with that?”

  “No boss, I look forward to learning what ever I can from you.”

  With the serious stuff out of the way, Cliff wanted to unwind a bit. He felt a little better about the section and felt more at ease. “Let’s have another drink. I’ve got to get back on a train tonight.”

  *****

  Pocatello, Idaho

  “We don’t get officers from out of town come up this way very often.” The sheriff’s face was carefully neutral.

  The two lawmen sat across from each other. Bill had arrived before noon in a rental car, driving straight from Salt Lake City. The sheriff was checking him out from across the desk.

  No one liked outside interference in their cases. Bill would feel the same way if someone came in asking questions about a body on one of his cases. He’d hold back until he was sure about the guy’s intentions.

  “Hey, I’m just glad you guys caught the alert I set up in the system.” He decided to work the friendly angle.

  The sheriff shuffled some papers around and pulled one out of the stack to read over a second time. “What’s your interest in numbered tattoos?”

  Bill was about to start to give this guy all the expected answers to his questions. Then he decided to cut to the chase. Fuck it, he had too much to lose by dickin’ around. He looked at the floor between his shoes. “Look, my daughter disappeared on a freight train last fall.”

  This seemed to take the sheriff by surprise as he stopped shuffling papers and looked up.

  “The only leads I have are the freight trains and stories about a gang with numbers tattooed on the inside of their wrists.”

  The silence got heavier as the two men sat there. Finally Bill added, “I’m doing everything I can.”

  The rawness in his voice seemed to change the tide and the sheriff transformed from defensive to concerned.

  He dropped the papers on the desk and folded his hands on the top of the pile. “Okay, tell me what you want. We’ll do our best.”

  Bill drilled the sheriff about time, place, and anything else that he could think of. Finally it came down to his last requirement. “I’d like to
see the body if it’s still here.”

  “It not a pretty sight.” The sheriff’s face twisted at the thought. He straightened up in his chair blinking his eyes as if to change the picture in his brain. “I’ll drive.”

  At the morgue Bill braced himself as they pulled the metal tray out of the locker in the wall.

  “No one has claimed him yet. Only reason he’s still here.” The sheriff pulled the sheet back and both men took a reflexive step backwards.

  It was involuntary, but the inhuman sight made you want to escape. It was only after he was able to conquer this initial instinct that Bill stepped forward. Jesus, what a mess. The blowtorch had created openings to the bone and beyond as it raked along the body. It must have been pure horror. The autopsy report said the vic was alive for most of it.

  Bill tried to ignore the melted spots and concentrate elsewhere. Really he just wanted to see the tattoo. He leaned forward to get an angle on the wrist that lay on its side, facing in. He could see the numbers, but had to twist his head to make them out. Ninety-two.

  It was rather crudely done. Some kind of homemade instrument. He had to be happy with that. At least he knew what to look for now, and he’d confirmed that the tattoos did exist.

  “You know the perp torched the whole body and this tattoo is the only thing untouched.” The sheriff stood a few paces away, hand over his nose.

  “You mean like a message? Maybe.” Bill thought about it. “Who’s the message for?”

  His phone rang and he nodded he was done to the sheriff as he stepped away to take the call.

  “Dewton.”

  “You the guy from Colton with an alert out for tattooed wrists on the rail lines?”

  Bill’s hand squeezed the receiver, “Yes, what have you got?”

  “Jim Stevens, Spokane city police. We got a fucking nightmare up here. Some guy was cut to pieces and left in a boxcar that came in last night.”

  Bill waited, until he realized the cop was done. “You mentioned a tattoo?”

  “Shit, sorry. I keep getting distracted, I’m seeing the guy like it was a minute ago. The tattoo was a number five on the inside wrist. The only part of the guy that wasn’t cut up.”

  Bill knew this was important, he just didn’t know why. Was it the number five? If there was any kind of organization to this gang wouldn’t the numbers start at one? If they did, then number five was close to the top. Number ninety-two over here in the cooler meant it had to be a large gang.