by Ben Essex
*
I returned to White via Lincoln's cold gaze.
'Well?' White asked.
'They're scared to move,' I replied. 'They see your extra forces.'
'I thought so,' White bit a lip. 'Stalemate.'
'I think you should attack now,' I pressed. 'It's the best chance you're going to get.'
White considered. 'Maybe you're right,' he said. 'But-'
Suddenly, the entire train jerked. A metallic clang exploded in the air- the sound of snapping metal. The floor jumped, and for an instant everything felt lighter.
'What the hell was that?' I demanded.
White cocked his ears. 'It came from the back of the train.'
We both bolted from the cabin, to the end of the carriage. There we found an open door, flapping in the breeze. And far, far away- lying still on the tracks- was the back of the train.
'The rear carriages,' White said, unnecessarily. 'Somebody's cut the rear carriages.'
In the distance we could see a handful of shadows slipping out onto the tracks, angrily gesturing at the train to come back.
'Over half my men...' White muttered.
I looked down, at what was now the end of our train. Scorch marks were strewn all over the hull- particularly at the joints which had once held the two carriages together.
'These are Gauntlet marks,' I said grimly. 'Lincoln's people did this.'
'Then they'll be heading for the front of the train,' White said. 'To get rid of the rest of my men.'
He started to rush off, presumably with mind to intercept. I held him back.
'Can't go that way.'
'Why not?'
'Lincoln's people will be all over the inside of the train. Now they've got us flanked, they're probably moving to find you.'
White paused. I could see the cogs turning as he calculated strategies... I got there first.
'We can go around the outside,' I said.
White raised a brow. 'Wouldn't that be extremely dangerous?'
'So's staying here.'
White took the point.
We pushed aside the flapping door.
Wind immediately lashed against us; the unstoppably hands of nature, slapping us around. Against the gale-level buffeting we crawled out onto the train's exterior.
Fortunately, the hull was relatively climber friendly. Ribs, fins and flanges lined the hips of the beast- it was just about possible to clamber along. I gave a silent prayer of thanks to whoever decided that this thing ought to look like a steam-train.
My fingers felt in danger of freezing off. Everything was cold, in the most biting way possible. The dark made it hard to see more than centimetres ahead, and but for the streaks of starlight we would have been blind.
'We need to go faster!' White yelled. Easy for you to say, I thought. Your body's flat. My belly was doing its best to overbalance me. I fought to hold on.
Don't look down. Don't look down. I could feel the thumping of the tracks.
The side of the train was getting smoother and smoother- soon there'd be no place left to hold on. The only way to go was-
'Up!' I yelled, wind stealing away half of my volume. Desperately clambering toward the top of the train, I came close to a window. Peering into the passenger compartment, I noticed about ten of Lincoln's cops sweeping their way through the train's interior. I was right. They were locking the place down.
I scrambled up with greater speed. The train's narrow roof beckoned me, boasting of safety...
The roof lied. The moment I reached it, I felt in a far more precarious position than before. I couldn't stand up; to stand would be to fall. Instead I hugged the surface and clawed my way along, using my whole body for propulsion.
White came along a few seconds later, progressing a little bit faster. He was up to his hands and knees, and almost managing a walking pace.
We reached the front end of the train- the tapered cockpit only a little way ahead. Down below, there was the carriage containing White's men...
...And there were two others on the outside with us, attacking the carriage at its joints. A pair of plain-clothed police, tied to the train's exterior by some kind of utility harness. They had their Gauntlets out and pumping with electricity. They were quietly cutting through the ties binding the front of the train. Bursts of warmth came up from their work. They'd be done in no time.
We had no choice but to attack. Both policemen seemed utterly engrossed in their task, but those bright blue lances could be deadly at a dozen paces.
I saw White reach into his pocket, taking something out... a gun. A silver revolver. How very quaint. He spun the barrel, and gestured as if aiming. Hitting anything at this range would be difficult- let alone hitting two things. I motioned for him to wait, then moved forward all the faster myself. God, I hope these guys saw me talking to Lincoln, I thought.
The moment I could be sure I was in ear-shot, I yelled out; 'Hey there! Hello! Hey there!'
The two policemen turned to me, and started to bring their Gauntlets up.
'No, wait!' I raised my hands, started to fall off the train and immediately grabbed on again. 'Wait! It's me! Ben Franklin! I, uh surrender?'
The troops didn't fire. They lowered their Gauntlets and fixed me with suspicious expressions.
'What do you want?' They demanded.
'Pardon?!' I called.
'What! Do you! Want!?'
'To warn you!'
'About what?!'
Two perfectly aimed shots sounded off in rapid succession. Both cops slumped over. The safety lines kept their lifeless bodies from slipping away; instead, they lolled listlessly against the side of the carriage. Waving in the wind.
'Nice work,' White said begrudgingly, lowering his revolver.
'Good shooting,' I supposed. We came to the dead bodies, and White stripped away their weapons. With mild distaste, I took the Gauntlet he handed me.
'That looks dangerous.' I pointed at the joint between carriages- the two cops had melted it half away. The remaining part was creaking in a most unsettling manner.
'Unfortunately, these weapons weren't designed for cutting or welding,' White said, strapping on his Gauntlet. 'So we're just going to have to hope it holds.'
White and I let ourselves back into the train, breathing little sighs of relief. It was good to be warm again.
We were surrounded by White's men.
'All right!' White called out. 'Listen! Things are not going exactly as planned!'
'Uh oh.' I tapped White on the shoulder. He turned, irate. 'What is it?'
I pointed. From the depths of the train, a wave of policemen was approaching.
'Apparently they had a Plan B,' White muttered dryly.
'Do we?' I asked.
'Men! Form up!' White bellowed. There were a hundred clicking sounds as bullets popped into chambers. Apparently Southerners were big on projectiles.
'Charge,' White said softly.
'Wait,' I started to protest, 'Maybe you shouldn't just-'
Too late. The men were charging.
'The only way to break a stalemate,' White said, 'is with a bold move.'
Flashes of light and sound tore through the train- spears of lightning bouncing off the walls and striking flesh. Gun-barrels roared, sounding out each shot. Men dove for cover behind seats, merrily blasting away.
Bolts of blue and tips of steal. Windows shattering, glass melted away.
'Come on,' White growled, racing toward the battle.
'Wait!' I protested. 'We can't go through that.'
'A general doesn't hide behind his troops,' White snapped. 'We stand ahead.'
With that, Whi
te was into the fray- in one hand his revolver, in the other his Gauntlet. He didn't even bother taking cover. He was quite unstoppable.
Reluctantly I joined the back of the battle, trying to get off the occasional shot without being killed in the process. It was hard to see straight. Neon ribbons danced over my eyes.
White's people pressed on, through the chaos and narrow carriageways. There was little room to duck, little room to dodge. The winner was whoever fired first.
I began to see the basic flaw in my plan. Yes, the two sides were killing each other- but there was no way for me to get out of the way.
'We'll never make it through all of this!' I shouted.
'Optimism is a virtue,' White snapped. 'We don't have to make it all the way.'
'What?'
'I've got a plan. Trust me.'
Of course he had a plan.
'Here!' White hollered. 'Everybody, move in here!'
We had reached the exact centre of the train- the Dining Cart. White and his men pulled in, securing the doors from either end. Outside, cops scurried. Occasionally, they'd make an attempt to charge us. A few choice shell-shots would send them into quick retreat. Only trouble was, they had infinite ammunition... we only had so many bullets.
The dining cart looked exactly like any other cabin- that is, a hollowed out tube. But instead of chairs, a large bar took up most of the available space. It was stacked high with drinks, snacks and steaming pots of coffee.
White disappeared behind the bar.
'Pardon me for saying so, but I really don't think this is the time for an entree,' I said.
'I disagree,' White muttered, popping back into view. He was holding a large suitcase, the same suitcase he'd been carrying on the platform... I wondered what'd happened to that.
'What is that? What's in there?'
'A bomb.'
White flipped open the case; there was indeed a bomb inside. It looked fairly well-improvised. Plastic explosives and a chemical timer, cobbled together from home-made parts.
I stepped back. 'A bomb.'
'No offense, Benjamin,' White wore an unnerving grin. 'But I wasn't entirely happy with your meta-ambush plan. Too many ways it could go wrong.'
'I can't imagine what you mean,' I deadpanned. Behind me, one of White's followers fell in a halo of electricity.
'This way, if all else fails,' White clicked a few buttons on the case, 'at least we achieve the mission objective.'
'Killing Lincoln?'
'And every other Salmon Corp lackey within half a mile.'
I looked at the bomb's timer. It was set for sixty minutes and counting.
'What about doing it in person?' I protested. 'The symbolism, and... symbolism.'
'Symbolism's good,' White shrugged. 'But victory's more important. With any luck,' he clicked the briefcase shut. 'We'll be able to get to Lincoln well before my little contingency plan goes off.'
'And without any luck?'
'Optimism is a virtue,' White repeated.
A burst of blue reached over his head and slammed into the wall mere metres behind. White threw a gunshot shot absent-mindedly over his shoulder, where it hit somebody's face.
'The situation is pretty bad, sirs,' one of his men reported. 'They've got us bottled in.'
'Can't retreat. Nowhere to go,' White mused. His gaze roved, looking for options.
So did mine, but I saw nothing helpful. Just a bunch of microwave ready-meals and a few dozen bottles of BBQ sauce.
'Hold on.' White looked at me. 'They still think you're on their side, don't they?'
'Yes...' And so do you. 'Why do you-'
'I've got a hostage!'
White stepped out of the dining car with a gun to my head.
I did not particularly approve of this strategy.
'All of you, back off!' White bellowed. 'Or Mr. Franklin loses another life.'
My hands were tied behind my back, hiding my own weapon. White frogmarched me forward, pistol jammed into my cheek. He was being unnecessarily rough.
But his bluff (I hoped it was a bluff) was working. The police backed down.
That's a relief.
White's men followed him, fanning out. The cops moved to compensate. Both sides formed twisted mirror images of each other.
'Wherever your leader is,' White said. 'Make him come out.'
Lincoln stepped into view, looking tall and haughty and quite magnificent.
'I'm right here,' Lincoln said, donning the top-hat.
'You're going to let us get off at the next stop, or I'm going to shoot this man in the head,' White said crisply.
'Go ahead.'
Oh, fantastic.
'Excuse me?' White squinted.
'I said go ahead,' Lincoln repeated. 'Shoot him. Save us the trouble later.'
I gave Lincoln a death-glare. He/she didn't seem to notice.
'And for the record,' Lincoln added, 'the next stop is the border, where I predict roughly five hundred Corporate sponsored soldiers will be waiting to drag your ass in. So it'd really be a good idea to surrender before we kill you.'
'Stop at the border,' it was my turn to speak up. 'Exactly when were you expecting to do that?'
'About no-'
A signpost flashed by the train window. A platform came into view, then shot into the distance.
The signpost had read: Welcome to America Little.
Lincoln stared out the window, and looked quite irate. On the rapidly receding platform, a veritable army of policemen could be seen.
Silently, I praised Daniel's skill.
'I had a word with the driver. It's possible that this train's been programmed not to stop,' I said.
'We're still going to the city,' Natalia/Lincoln insisted. 'The terminus is right outside our headquarters- people will be waiting.'
'I think perhaps you're misunderstanding the meaning of not stop,' I replied calmly. This moved even White to incredulity.
'What exactly is your plan for getting off?' He demanded quietly.
'Still in the process of formulation.'
'Suicide isn't in your nature, Ben,' Lincoln spoke up. 'It's not in the Psyche Profile.'
'Really,' I said. 'What does your profile say about my skill in thinking outside the box?'
Lincoln glared with Natalia's eyes, and finally said:
'Truce. You stop this train, everyone lives.'
'Seems fair enough,' I effortlessly broke free of White's grip. 'Jacob, I'll need to see you in the cockpit.'
'I'm coming with you,' Lincoln said flatly.
'I don't see why-'
'Because I no longer trust you at all when it comes to making deals.'
'For the record, I'm a little shaky on that too,' White put in.
'All right. Just the three of us.' I was already running for the front of the train. 'No one else. Let's go.'
The pawns were left behind to point guns at one another and look tense.
As we headed for the fore, White asked me:
'What exactly did you do?'
'I told Daniel to make sure the train kept going no matter what,' I explained. 'So I assume he hacked into the autopilot and reprogrammed it to-'
We came to the cockpit, which was on fire.
'Oh.'
Daniel had smashed pretty much every control panel to pieces. Everything that wasn't dented was torn, circuitry hanging loose from all angles. Things were sparking, little flames licked at the walls; Daniel was going at them with a fire extinguisher. In a corner, the semi-conscious train conductor was huddled in fear.
'Uh, hi guys,' Daniel said meekly. 'How're you doing?'
'I think he may have adopted a simpler approach,' Lincoln said dryly.
'Turns out it's much easier to break something outright than to change it a little bit,' Daniel grinned. 'Don't worry. I've got everything under control. Nothing to see here.'
'Daniel-'
'I think I can fix this with a simple-'
'Daniel,' I snapped. 'Go sit in the back, keep everyone else company. We'll handle this.'
Daniel looked up. 'Right,' he muttered. 'I suppose you two are the genius inventors.'
Daniel excused himself. White and I immediately leapt for the broken consoles.
'Okay,' I muttered to White. 'You're the genius inventor. How do we fix this?'
'I don't know. I don't know the first thing about trains,' White poked aimlessly at the wires, holding random twists of circuitry together. 'Especially modern trains.'
'Oh, great,' I rubbed my temple. 'All right. I think I can work the basic details of this out.'
'Heh.'
'What?'
'Nothing,' White's expression was of grim amusement. 'I just told you we'd work well together.'
'Feel free the chat away, you two,' Lincoln said, behind us. 'We have all day.'
'Oh yes,' White said suddenly, clicking his fingers. 'I almost forgot.'
White took his revolver and shot Lincoln in the stomach.
Lincoln went down.
I stared at White in shock. 'What was that for?'
White shrugged. 'It's never a good idea to ignore a perfect opportunity.'
'There was a truce!'
'He would have done the same to us the moment we fixed this train,' White replied. 'Now let's get to work.'
'Sir! Sir!' Daniel came rushing in. 'I thought I heard a gunshot.'
'It was nothing,' White dismissed, holding two circuit breakers together. 'Just Lincoln taking a bad fall.'
'Oh. Of course.' Daniel looked around. 'What did you do with his body?'
'It's right over-'
White and I saw it at the same time. Lincoln was gone. The words Body Amour suddenly exploded in my head in massive letters.
We didn't see blood.
'Oh, shit.'
We both bolted for the door, just in time to hear the lightning strike. Lincoln had taken the opportunity to backtrack and outflank our men. He/she could strike them broadly from behind, and the moment they turned around to retaliate...
It was a slaughter. Lincoln was losing a lot of people, but White was losing more.
White had another good shot at Lincoln, though- and this time he was aiming for the head. He bought his revolver to bear-
It clicked out, empty. Lincoln saw us, and ducked behind a chair.
'Hell,' White said, and started zapping with his Gauntlet. The whole interior of the train was crackling; the walls were heating up. Wooden panelling snapped and the smell of burning leather hurt my nostrils.
'You're really not supposed to use these indoors,' I muttered, of the Gauntlets.
'There's no way out,' White breathed, as the two of us retreated through the dining cart. The enemy was right behind.
'Doesn't seem to be.'
'Just a question,' White said. 'You really were planning to betray me in the end, weren't you?'
Didn't seem much point in lying. 'Yeah. And them.'
'Playing both sides against the middle?' White shook his head. 'Intelligent, if despicable.'
'Coming from you, that means a lot.'
The police started surging into the dining car. My fingers twitched out arcs of lightning in their general direction. Bottles of BBQ sauce exploded, coating my pursuers in sticky stuff. They were not particularly hindered.
'Good shot,' White said flatly.
'Shut up.'
Above my head, some luggage exploded.
'Listen,' White briefly met my gaze. 'I'll hold them off. You find a way to stop this train.'
'They'll kill you,' I warned him.
'So will that bomb if we're not off this thing in thirty minutes,' White shrugged.
Oh, right. The bomb. It was still in the dining cart, hidden behind the counter.
'You're smarter than me,' I pointed out. 'You should do the fixing.'
'Yes, I am, but this isn't my time,' White bit. 'I don't know trains any better than you and besides, you couldn't hit an elephant with cannonball. No hurry up, man.'
Reluctantly, I got ready to run. White put down a little cover fire.
'You know,' said White. 'I am sorry for your friend with the moustache. This has been a difficult few months for me.'
'Yeah,' I muttered. 'I know the feeling.'
And then I was off, the world exploding behind me. I didn't want to look back, in case I saw something unpleasant.
I ran for the cockpit, slamming the door shut in my wake. The sound of battle outside faded.
Fix this. I examined the wreckage. How the hell am I supposed to fix this?
Scrambling and scrabbling around, I found an instruction manual buried under one of the consoles. It was covered in dust and several thousand pages long, but the Computer Interface section had some fairly extensive diagrams.
Remember when you used to invent things?
I went to work, cobbling and tying- forcing wires and errant strands of circuitry back into place. Primary microchip-boards had been destroyed, but there were plenty of secondary systems to rewire. Be inventive. You're a genius too. Sort of.
'C-C-C-..C...Computer O-O-Online,' came a croaking voice from one of the consoles. Yes! I breathed. Maybe Daniel hadn't smashed things too badly after all.
'Computer, how do I fix this damage?' I demanded.
'Running diagnostic,' the computer chirped. 'Diagnostic complete. Fixing current levels of damage would be impossible. Probability of failure: 100%. Thank you for your time.'
Oh, brilliant.
'Computer, how fast is this train going?'
'Two hundred miles an hour.'
I did math in my head. 'Can I survive jumping off that?'
'In protective gear, possibly.'
I looked down at my clothes. Frills. Waistcoat. No protective gear. 'No.'
'Point of information: When approaching city limits, the train will automatically slow to around ninety-seven miles an hour. You may survive exit at that speed.'
'The autopilot's damaged- will the train still slow down?'
Long pause.
'No.'
Then there was nothing to be done. I left the cockpit, venturing outside. The corridor was silent. No sign of battle. No sign of White. That couldn't be good-
-A baton struck my temple. I brought my Gauntlet to bear; electricity leaping out. My opponent fell back... and stood up again, unhurt.
It was a cop, a woman of intermediate age. She was wearing full body armour; the plain-clothes had disappeared. Apparently, somebody had been smart enough to break out the heavy padding.
I jabbed her with my Gauntlet again, retreating toward the cockpit. The train lurched. I burst through a set of cabin doors, and fell to the ground-
The policewoman followed. She had friends.
Five enemy Gauntlets flared to life. Batons struck palms menacingly.
Natalia/Lincoln stepped into view, standing over me.
'I'm sorry, Ben,' Lincoln said. 'But honestly, how did you think this was going to end?'
The men advanced.
And that that moment-
-Dinosaurs attack.
'Attention, ladies and gentlemen. This is an automated announcement. Passengers on the 11.15 train to Little Stop, Salmon Square are reminded that we are entering a Dinosaur-Infested zone. Cautionary dining
car procedures are to be followed for the remainder of the journey. Please throw away your meals and begin dental flossing immediately.'
The dinosaurs were flying raptors, fresh from circling the trash heaps on the edge of the city. Like all modern dinosaurs, raptors are inexplicably attracted to the scent of BBQ sauce.
Their nostrils are very powerful.
They began dive-bombing the train in groups of three or four; smashing into windows, cracking through the glass. Most of them were swept away by the train's sheer velocity, but a few found purchase on the hull. They forced their way inside, then realised they had nowhere to go. The stupid beasts twirled around the train's tiny interior, screeching as they bounced off the walls. Claws struck out from beneath leathery wings, cutting everything in sight- I caught a nasty slash across my cheek. Off-balance and off guard, the cops fought back with Gauntlet fire.
In the confusion I slipped away, offering silent thanks to Gods and lizards alike.
I saw White.
He was curled up in a ball, lying between carriages, and about as badly hurt as a living thing can be. His face was covered in burn marks, barely recognisable- no wonder I'd hadn't noticed him earlier. His clothes were totally shredded.
I touched my palm to his mutilated cheek, and tried to stem my instinctive revulsion. He was breathing-
'Step back.'
Lincoln/Natalia was behind me, pointing a weapon at my head.
Very, very slowly, I stood up.
'Put your Gauntlet down.'
I did so.
Lincoln looked pissed.
'I'm sorry, Ben, but these are my orders. You can't be let go. You could never be let go.'
'I thought you trusted me,' I muttered.
'You've double-crossed me about four times in one afternoon. I don't think you get to lecture on trust.'
My feet shifted. 'You haven't shot me yet, Natalia,' I pointed out. 'Not getting cold feet, are you?'
'I'm a publicist, you bastard,' he/she spat. 'Killing's not my first skill.'
'Shame you work for the mafia, then,' I replied. 'Listen, Natalia. You don't have to do this. You can-'
She shot me in the leg. Electricity crackled over my shin, and I fell. Just a light dose, but enough to hurt like hell.
'Natalia! Please-'
'These are business hours,' said Lincoln, humourlessly. 'I don't get to be Natalia again until you're dead.'
Her hands crackled-
-And Natalia fell down, as a burst of blue struck Abraham Lincoln in the face. His hat rolled off.
Jacob White was on his feet, swaying. Holding my Gauntlet in both hands. He was almost dead, and still fighting on.
'Go,' White croaked. 'Go now.'
I didn't have to be told twice. I fled.
-Looking over my shoulder just once-
-To see the titans clashing. The real Benjamin Franklin and the fake Abraham Lincoln, faces broken beyond recognition, enveloped by a cascade of lightning. Wrestling each other into a deadly, burning embrace.
The train was collapsing around them- metal warping and burning.
I slammed the carriage door shut.
The bomb had less than ten minutes left.
By chance I tripped over Daniel's body. Unlike White he didn't seem badly hurt, just very unconscious. With great effort, I hauled him up onto my back. My heart was straining in its chest. I felt like I might keel over at any second.
I dragged Daniel back to the cockpit, and dumped him there.
Probably about six minutes, I thought. Assuming the train didn't break itself apart before then.
At two hundred miles an hour, you may survive... with protective gear.
I had an idea.
Rushing out of the cockpit for a final time, I found the nearest site of battle. Corpses were everywhere, rebel and cop. The walls were burnt, and the air smelt of pork. I wasn't interested in any of the humanity right now. I just needed equipment.
Maybe four minutes?
I saw two armoured officers, ripe for the plucking. There were holes burned in their heads- marks of terminal damage- but their armour was intact. Hurriedly, I tore off their outfits.
I grabbed a dropped Gauntlet.
Two minutes or so.
On the brink of the cockpit, I found the link between carriage and train; the vulnerable joint that Lincoln's men had already half burned through. Throwing my stolen goods down, I stood well back and closed my eyes. Aiming the Gauntlet on faith and memory.
Lightning exploded from my hand, and struck the joint. The carriage creaked and groaned in protest; the whole thing wavering with stress.
One inch at a time, the metal link started to melt away-
-Until it snapped. I fell onto my backside, knocked down by sheer momentum.
The front of the train broke free of its burden- cockpit speeding off with me inside. I could only hope that we had enough time to clear the blast radius.
Maybe a minute, counting down...
The rest of the train ground to a halt. The dinosaurs were still going at it- circling around, tearing at the flanks. Through the mid-section burst flares of blinding light. The giants clashing.
I am sorry. Both of you.
Maybe thirty sec-
The train exploded.
A plume of orange, a blast of white. Red and yellow flames.
And nothing left.
I blinked back blindness. Watched the embers for a while.
In the end, the giants always fall.
I hauled Daniel to the cockpit door, and dressed him up in armour. I did the same to myself. We both looked ridiculous.
What will I tell him, when he wakes up? The truth. For a given value of truth.
History reserves the right to be edited.
And I'll keep his little group going... but I'll point them in a better direction. White was probably right- the world does need a revolution- but he was in too much of a hurry. He wanted to bring an old age back. I think I'll settle for something new.
I'm an engineer. I like to invent things.
The real Benjamin Franklin earned his place in history. So did Jacob White. Now it's my turn, and even if I'm walking in a dead man's shoes, I can make my way afresh. No man called "Franklin" has ever been elected President. Given the name's track record, I think that's a terrible shame.
I threw Daniel out first, hoping he'd be all right. The terrible, terrifying darkness beyond consumed him. I heard a thump.
My turn.
This was the life of Jacob White, flashing before my eyes. It's over now; we're coming clear of memory.
I'm done with living history.
I stuck my head out into the black, breathing in the night. It was so dark out there... you could fool yourself into thinking there was no ground at all. I might fall forever. I might fly.
I jumped, coat tails flapping.
All of that was then.
And this is now.
I hit the ground.
