How long had it been? One hour? Two? She could only hope. She’d done everything she could to delay as long as possible. Again, she backed up until she hit the back wall of the rail car. He left the lantern in the middle of the car and moved quickly towards her. At least that left her end of the car in darkness.
She looked up at the big man as he stood right in front of her, pressing his body against her, using his hips to pin her against the wall. What could she do now?
*****
Texas
Raul yelled into the cell phone as he ran, aiming to intercept the gangsters that jumped off the train. “You stop that damned train Miguel. No excuses. Then you meet me at the freight yard in El Paso.”
His feet pounded alongside the rails as he clicked off. The two guys who jumped off the train would think he was running scared. He stopped at the building closest to the track, they were in for a surprise.
There was a gap of fifteen feet between the track and cement foundation of the old loading dock. The bastards had to be close. Ducking around the corner, he looked around, searching for some kind of weapon. The knife in his pocket was only useful when he was in close.
The sound of running feet caught his attention. Raul braced against the corner of the building. Concentrating, he waited until the last second, until he judged the first guy was just about to clear the corner, then he swung the two-by-four like A-Rod swinging for the fences.
He wasn’t taking the chance that his pursuer would deflect or stop the blow. Staying low, he aimed for the knees. The guy had just placed his foot, shifting his weight onto it as the lumber connected. The knee folded backwards and the guy screamed. His victim’s momentum carried him forward as the hit spun him sideways and he fell to the ground.
Raul knew the second one would be a little better prepared, but he took his club all the way back anyways and swung low to start. As his attacker stuck his hands down anticipating the knee shot, the club changed direction and sliced upwards into an uppercut. With his hands down near his knees, Raul’s attacker was leaning forward slightly and took the blow square to the neck.
The body lifted up off the ground as a loud crack rang out. The guy’s head fell forward for a second, almost in slow motion, before snapping back to follow the body over backwards. He knew right away he’d hit the guy too hard. He hadn’t planned to kill them, but it was too late for this one.
He scrambled around to look at the first guy who was still writhing in pain, his hands holding his leg gingerly to minimize the agony. It wouldn’t help much, Raul could see where the jagged bone had torn through the grimy blue jeans, sticking bloody and white out the side of the leg. The guy was immersed in his own world of hurt until Raul slammed the lumber down on the other leg, connecting with the soft spot just above the knee.
Well, there was nothing fake about that scream. The guy had a hand on each leg as he looked up in terror, “Please man, don’t hit me. Not again. Please.”
“Who the fuck was that big guy with the jean jacket on the train.” Raul didn’t wait for answer, he drove the end of the wood down into the fingers clamped around the broken leg. This scream was followed by tears. The guy’s hand was crooked; at least two fingers broken.
“Sam Dorson. He’s the boss, his tattoo is number two.”
“Where’s he going?” Raul just raised the big stick in the air.
“Phoenix man, Phoenix.” The guy’s head swung down and hung against his chest like he was close to passing out.
This guy wasn’t his target and hadn’t done anything to Maria. It’s the only reason he was going to keep breathing. Raul looked at the dead guy and back. “I’m going to get you on your feet and you’re going to disappear. You understand?”
“Yeah.” The guy was gasping.
Raul watched the guy hobble down the track before turning to deal with the body of his buddy. He couldn’t leave him around for someone to find easily. Dragging the body along the side of the building, he found a pile of plastic to throw over it.
It was everything he could do to not start running after the train.
Shit, shit, shit.
He had to let his boys take it from here. If he was ever going to see her again that part of things was out of his hands. Fucking trains, why couldn’t there be another train right away he could jump on?
Raul turned back down the track away from the fight scene and found another building with a loading dock to wait. Climbing up, he sat on the ledge. The anger boiling inside was threatening to explode. He really hated not being able to do something, anything. He didn’t care what happened to him
“Fuck, I’m so sorry Maria.”
*****
Texas
Sam leaned in, feeling the softness of her body against his. Jesus, was she hot. He hadn’t believed it when she’d started dancing like that. She knew what was coming and she still put on a show. The way she’d looked at him made him so hard it was everything he could do to sit back and watch without jumping up and dragging her out of there.
Her body was out of this world. Shit, he hadn’t had something that good in years. This one had the right stuff, and she knew it.
“Okay bitch, we’re going to have a good time. Right?” He looked down at her. He liked the feeling of her pinned against the wall, his legs on either side of her hips, his dick digging into her belly. He leaned his head down near hers, “Answer me.”
She turned her eyes upwards, “Yes.”
He laughed loudly as his hands slid firmly up her sides, reaching to grasp her tits. He could feel the stiff resistance in every part of her body. This wasn’t the same broad who was dancing in the middle of the boxcar a minute ago.
“Listen bitch, you perform or else I’ll give them a shot at you.” He stared down at her as she thought it through. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he could tell when she changed her attitude. More impressive to him, he could feel it.
She pushed off the wall and awkwardly leaned her tense body against his.
“That’s more like it. Now turn around.” She slowly rotated to face the wall. Sam loved the view, he liked his women bent over. “Hands on the wall.”
He reached out and grabbed her ass, slapping it and squeezing its firmness. Fucking beautiful. Grabbing her dress, he yanked it halfway up her back, with his other hand he grabbed the silky panties and jerked them down around her knees.
Standing back, he admired his prize while he undid his belt buckle and lowered his fly. Usually he had to smack them around a little to really get ready, but this one already had him hard as he stepped between her legs.
What a piece.
He stood there for a while and let the train do the work. As the erratic shaking moved him back and forth he closed his eyes, holding her with one hand around her waist and the other fisted in her hair.
Sam finished and held himself there until he was soft. His heart slowed and his breathing eased.
Now that was everything he wanted, all in one package.
“That was special honey,” He slapped her ass once more and stumbled back. The woman seemed to slump for a brief moment before standing up and leaning into the wall.
After that he needed air. Kicking the door jam away, he slid the boxcar door open a foot, letting the rushing wind dry the sweat on his face. Sam was surprised it was already dark, but then they had been on the train for a while. He idly scratched his armpit. He had to make a call about the broad. He could keep her for himself and have a few more goes at her, which is what he usually did. He also knew the guys were eager to get in on this one.
Sam stepped out on the ledge of the moving train, his fingers gripped the upper groove and his toes sought out the thin lower ledge while he shuffled along the outside to the end of the boxcar. Gripping the steel handrail and the corner frame, he swung around the end to stand between the cars. Fishing out a cigarette, he lit up.
He knew the crew wouldn’t touch her without his say-so, and he had time to decide if he wanted h
er again. He pulled at the smoke and smiled, he already knew the answer.
She would be hunkered down inside there, terrified that his crew would be let loose. She should be. Sam was thinking about how much she’d been into it. He wondered how appreciative she’d be when he offered to do her again and keep those other assholes at bay.
He sure had it made. Sam was smiling as he flicked the cigarette butt out into the night. Then he noticed lights in the distance. A bunch of headlights? He felt the train buck as the brakes came on.
Not wasting time, he quickly moved along the outside of the cars towards the back of the train. He needed separation from the others. What was going on? Cops? That had never happened before.
Sam kept moving until he was near the end of the train. He thought about it and decided being up on top of a car would be safer when they stopped.
All he could see at the head end of the train was a bunch of lights blocking the line, and that scared the shit out of him.
*****
Salt Lake City, Utah
David Perez stalked between train cars, lurking in the dark where no one looked. He had gotten good at it. For ten years now he’d been riding the rails and hiding.
His first few years had been spent getting lost and trying to figure himself out. As he watched his mother sink deeper and deeper into depression, he’d become angrier and filled with revenge. When his mother crashed, he was left alone and decided he wanted to see the country.
It took two years before he ran into one of them again. That’s when he bought a small brown book and started taking notes. He’d followed that first one for almost a year, keeping his distance, hiding and watching.
Eventually that one led him to the rest, and he took turns following each of them. If anyone knew the Raildogs, it was David. He knew the sections they worked, the trouble they caused, and he knew the bosses intimately.
Once he thought he had enough information and knew their schedules like clockwork, he took a few of the higher numbered ones out, ones he knew were way down the ladder. Quiet conversations away from the tracks in remote fields, or abandoned buildings, rounded out his knowledge.
Then David was left to think. What should he do? He spent another year mulling things over and testing some theories. It was a timing thing. Getting the logistics all sorted out had kept him awake many long nights.
He checked along the northbound lines and didn’t see anything. He was working his way around the Salt Lake yard checking north lanes, then west, then south and finally east. When the circle was completed he’d start another. He wasn’t missing the big boss. Everything was coming down to right now. This was it.
He alternated between incoming and outgoing lines. He didn’t know where the guy was, just that this was his home base. He looked up, the sun was dropping, night would start taking hold soon. David needed to find him, it would be harder after dark.
The biggest problem he faced was getting around the country in a hurry. Once he summoned up the courage to ride on top of the passenger trains, he’d found his answer.
The gang stuck to the freight cars and that strategy had its limitations. When David decided to start this, he knew the whole campaign had to be completed quickly. None of his targets could get any warning.
He wanted to catch the passenger express leaving later for Phoenix. What he needed now was for this asshole to show up. He looked down, hopefully his homemade tattoo would do the job.
The first of the month was the best opportunity, and it had made finding the first targets easy. Now he had to hope the other two were still out there. A few more days and their routines became less structured. David could only count on them being in specific places at the beginning of the month, things became less certain as the days passed.
He watched as the westbound freight rolled towards the yard. Staying near a row of old buildings, he relied on the line of scrub brush to conceal his movements. He knew anyone riding the rails would get off before the train stopped, and sure enough someone jumped as the train passed the perimeter fence.
His heart was beating louder. Funny though, instead of fear, it was excitement that David felt. He forced a deep breath that kept him calm, and watched the guy approach. A distant glow from an overhead light was enough. He had his man.
He pushed out from the building and walked towards the newcomer. “Hey there. You number one?”
*****
Salt Lake City, Utah
Cliff stopped dead in his tracks. He looked the intruder up and down without recognition. Quickly, he glanced around suspiciously, when no one came rushing his way, he turned back to the stranger.
“What are you talking about?” Cliff squinted, snarling slightly. He was annoyed he’d been caught off guard.
“Hey, Sam sent me.” The stranger moved his arm so the tattoo was visible, one hundred and one. It was ugly, but got the job done. “Shit is hitting the fan and he wanted to get you a message. He said no phones.”
Cliff nodded. This one didn’t need to know he’d thrown away the phone. He pulled out his little black book and checked the number. It wasn’t in the book. The last number he had was ninety-nine. Cliff looked at the guy again, “Who gave you the tattoo, Sam?”
“Yes sir. I’m new, but he said it was important to find you, and he told me where to look.”
The guy was huge, probably why Sam liked him. So Sam knew what was happening, which meant he knew about the others.
“He knows about Albert and the Rackmans?”
The guy nodded slowly, “Fucking crazy if you ask me.”
Cliff relaxed a little and closed the ten-foot gap between them. “What’s the message?”
The guy looked covertly around the yard, “Let’s get out of the open. Someone’s going to see us.”
Turning quickly he headed for the train that had finally come to a stop. Cliff watched the guy climb up into the car, motioning for him to follow.
Made sense, they hid in the boxcars all the time. Something about the way the guy effortlessly climbed up into the car eroded the last of Cliffy’s concerns. He was satisfied that this guy was comfortable around trains and must be a Raildog.
Cliff was reaching up to grip the ledge of the boxcar when the guy’s hand came out of nowhere to assist. He grabbed ahold and felt himself pulled up into the train.
The sudden explosion of power that swung him around in a circle and slammed him into the interior wall wasn’t expected. Cliff realized his mistake as his shoulder took the brunt of the impact. He should never have accepted the tattoo at face value. He was the one that gave them out, they always called for the next number in line. Idiot.
The next thing he knew he was fighting for control. He slammed against the wall again. His opponent was strong as hell and was keeping him off balance. Cliff thought he had an opening, and let loose a looping right hook. Before it connected, he met an elbow and everything went black.
Breathing shallowly, Cliff examined the ceiling of the boxcar. The wooden floor bit into his shoulder blades. Confused and disorientated, he tried to move. Nothing happened.
Fuck no. Not like this.
He cursed. Hadn’t he been doing the right thing? He had been trying to get away, to get off the tracks and not look back. How could this be happening?
Blinking, he tried to focus. Concentrating, he tried to move, and realized he had to have been drugged. His muscles were dead and nothing was responding. Only his eyes were moving, but that wasn’t much help.
The lighting changed inside the car and Cliff heard the footsteps of someone moving around. Sliding his eyes toward the movement, he tracked the stranger as he came close.
“I see you’re back with the living.” The guy seemed to be enjoying some kind of joke. “At least for a while.”
Cliff realized the joke was on him. As he tried to speak all that came out was a slurred babble. He couldn’t even get his words straight.
“Don’t bother,” the stranger laughed. “When it wears of
f you’ll have plenty of time to talk.”
Kneeling down beside Cliff, the guy reached into a gym bag and started to take out rolls of material that looked like cotton bandage wraps. Something you would see at a hospital.
Cliff shook violently. He wasn’t sure why.
A large bottle full of amber liquid came out of the bag next. Cliff strained to see what was happening. The guy was carefully soaking the rolls of material in the liquid. Cliff found he was beside himself in fear even though he didn’t know what was coming. Then the voice was speaking to him in a deep and soothing baritone, and he began to tremble.
“I should explain what’s happening here,” a roll of soaked material was waved in front of his eyes. “This wrapping is being soaked in linseed oil. Nothing major.”
When the guy laid the soaked material on his leg Cliff was shocked. Was he naked? He could feel the cold wet cloth against his skin. He struggled to look down at what was happening to him.
Fuck no. What’s going on?
Cliff tried harder than ever to move. Still nothing happened. Forcing himself to look he realized the guy was using the material to wrap his feet and legs together.
“This is how they wrapped the pharaohs in Egypt,” the stranger explained. “I’m not sure I’m following the exact procedures, but I think it’s close enough.”
Was that a good thing? He didn’t think so. With his legs wrapped together tightly the guy kept rolling him, tilting his body left and right to keep the wrapping process going. Tears started seeping from under his eyelids, running down the sides of his face, as the guy trapped his arms against his waist and continued to wrap.
“I suppose you’d like to know why this is happening?” The guy didn’t even look at Cliff as he continued his task.
Actually, he did want to know. He had to know why he was loosing everything. Why was he being tortured? That’s what was happening here, right? He wasn’t feeling any pain right now, but had a pretty good idea that this wouldn’t end well.
“You need to think back to ten years ago.” The voice had picked up an edge of anger.
Ten years ago? Shit, he’d done so much stuff in that time he wasn’t sure he could even get back that far.
Raildogs Page 14
