End of the Line, page 3
“Melted.” She looked across at the wheel. Several teeth on the wheel cogs were deformed.
“Both of you come inside! That’s never going to move!” she shouted, her voice disappearing in the wind. She pulled herself back inside.
“Did I hear you say melted?” Emilio asked.
Esperanza nodded. “Mmm. Someone does not want us to interfere with whatever that is,” the Voca said as she motioned to the cars ahead of them. “They’ve been very thorough so far. I am going to guess the other wheel is also damaged. We must find a way past the cattle cars and get to the next set. Hopefully, they have brakes or a communication tube with the Engineer.”
Lyric slid back through the window in the rear of the train, a look of frustration on her freckle-kissed face.
Footsteps sounded on the roof of the car above them. Esperanza looked upward.
“What is he doing?” Esperanza asked.
Lyric shrugged and simply stared up as they heard the wood creek under Cortez’s footfalls. She recovered his coat from the window. “Trying the other side.”
Emilio’s eyes tracked the sound of the Inquisitor’s footfalls to the head of the caboose.
“He’s certainly persistent,” he commented.
“Indeed,” Esperanza replied.
Jalin’s footfalls on the roof ceased, and then there was a heavy thud on the front platform of the caboose. Glancing in that direction, they could see the condition of the head brake wheel was the same as the other, as was the condition of the door lock.
Jalin drew his pistols. “Stand away from the door!”
Emilo’s eyes widened, “Is he really going to…?”
“Shoot out the lock? Yes, Doctor, now move to the rear of the car. NOW!” Esperanza said, shoving Emilio toward the rear of the caboose. They all ducked into the alcoves beneath the raised cupola just as shots rang out.
With a single hard kick, the door flung open. The metal handle remained nestled into the frame as if it were all one piece. Jalin strode in and holstered his weapons. The trio peered out from their positions then advanced to meet him.
He looked at Esperanza. “Those doors opened and closed easily at our last stop. The Corpse Speaker can’t melt metal; otherwise, I would have him dragging behind us by now. Any ideas?”
“Yes, but you won’t like it,” she said.
“I already don’t like today,” Jalin replied.
“A Fire Singer could warp metal without a forge,” the Voca said.
Jalin’s face scrunched up in a scowl.
“More magic…,” he muttered.
“Mechanist with a torch?” Emilio offered quietly.
Jalin swung his head around to stare at Emilio. “What was that?”
Emilio balked at the sudden focus on his words. “Oh! I was just saying a member of the Mechanist Guild, a Mechanist, could have sealed them all as well. It wouldn’t have had to involve magic.”
Jalin narrowed his eyes and focused on Kane.
“And while it is true that anyone using one of their torches could have performed that act… before you begin hurling accusations… I was bound, gagged, and unconscious.”
Jalin continued staring at Emilio, “True,” he reluctantly admitted.
“And you just said the doors were working at your last stop.”
Jalin sucked on a tooth. “Also true.”
“The brake wheels couldn’t have been done earlier either,” Lyric added. Jalin and Emilio looked at her. “They had to use them to stop the car at the station.”
Jalin nodded and looked at Lyric. “And the windows?”
She shrugged. “Could have been sealed ahead of time to prevent whoever was in the caboose from opening them and catching a whiff of what they just loaded. Stuck windows are easy enough to explain and would not raise too much concern.”
Jalin smoothed his mustache and tugged on this chin beard. “So it happened at the last stop.”
Esperanza and Lyric nodded.
“If I may ask…” Emilio began, “When did the cattle cars get added?”
Lyric exchanged glances with Esperanza and then with Jalin. Jalin waved his hand non-committally.
“At the last stop,” Lyric answered. She looked at Emilio and said, “They uncoupled us and pulled us onto a shunt rail, then loaded the other cars on.” Her eyes darted to Jalin and then back. “We already had you in custody, and Cortez insisted on remaining here.”
“History lessons later,” Jalin growled and recovered his long coat. He shook it out then and slid it on. The worn and patched leather starkly contrasted the court finery beneath, but the look seemed to better befit him. He patted his pockets and pulled out a tiny spyglass. “Wax, I need your eyes,” he said, striding toward the now open door.
Without pause, Lyric followed Jalin out onto the head platform of the caboose. Jalin pulled a black scarf over his mouth and nose and gestured to Lyric to pull hers on. Then he stepped to the edge of the railed platform and looked up along the length of the train.
Nine cars. Between them and the engine, there were nine railcars. He pulled the glass up to his right eye and examined each one carefully. He paused, lowered the glass, and then gestured to Lyric.
“Tell me what you see,” he told her and stepped back.
Lyric shifted her weight and carefully lifted the glass to examine what Jalin had already seen.
The two cars immediately ahead of them were cattle cars. The slat board sides were tight, making it impossible to see inside, but the smell of their contents was undeniable. Seven additional railcars made the line-up. At least one of the cars carried passengers, another she assumed was a dining car, the sleeper, baggage, and…
“Is that a water tender car?” she asked, lowering the glass.
Jalin nodded.
“So it's a Mechanist train… running on steam and using generators… .”
“And that car is carrying either coal or oil to heat the water,” Jalin surmised. “There is no direct route to the engine and the engineer.”
“So, how do we get to the engine?” Lyric asked. She handed the glass back to Jalin.
“The same way we get past these two rolling corpse cars,” Jalin replied and nodded at the rear of the cattle car before them. A ladder climbed the back of the railcar to its roof.
Lyric looked inside at Esperanza and Emilio. “They are not going to like this.”
Jalin scowled and shoved the glass back into his pocket, “I don’t care, “ he said and returned inside.
Missions
“You are out of your mind!” Emilio exclaimed.
Jalin leaned against the edge of the small desk and regarded the Necromist. The hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his lip as he watched the man’s discomfort.
Lyric looked between the two men and sighed. She understood the Inquisitor’s distrust for the man who could see and speak with the dead; it was ingrained in the whole of their society. The Corpse Wars ensured it. Who could tell when one of those so “gifted” by Styx might once again attempt to raise an army to attack the Imperium? Caution was the best course of action.
But this was not caution Lyric was witnessing. It was open animosity and bravado. Two things they did not need at the moment.
She glanced over at Doctor Kane, the man they had been sent to escort back to Fugue Academy. He was neither gaunt nor intimidating. Two features they had been taught should be present in a Necromist. No, this man was of average height and build and while he was perhaps thin, he was not skeletal. His clothing was unassuming and threadbare in patches. Evidence of someone who stayed busy and rarely had time to care for their upkeep. His leather medical bag was worn smooth from frequent use, but contained no bits of bone or preserved body parts. Indeed, Esperanza had identified the contents as commonplace items she could pick up for her ritual crafts at the local botanica.
Much to Jalin’s vocalized displeasure.
Kane’s complexion was the fair color of many in the northern villages of The Reach. While pale, he was not sallow nor sickly looking. It was his hair and eyes that called attention to the Necromist. His shoulder-length locks were a soft snowy white and his eyes a surreal color of green. He had a wide-brimmed flat-topped hat, and dark glasses among his possessions when they found him. He clearly must have been accustomed to hiding his other-worldly nature from passersby, lest he draw attention to himself.
Esperanza commented that she believed the man had been touched by some Divine Hand to be so marked.
Jalin said the man was clearly cursed.
How much truth might there be in that estimation? How much about you was NOT in that dossier, Doctor Kane?
“No. Absolutely not,” Emilio protested.
Jalin shrugged. “Very well. I’ll just tie you up and drag you across the roof then.”
Emilio bristled at the suggestion, “Not without a fight, you won’t.”
Jalin’s grin widened, and he pushed off the desk, “Ah. Now you have my attention.”
“Gentlemen…,” Lyric spoke up. She carefully stepped in between the two men and turned her eyes to Jalin first. “We are under orders, Inquisitor.”
Jalin pressed his lips together in a sour expression and sucked on a tooth.
Lyric turned to look at Emilio. “I am sorry, Doctor, but Inquisitor Cortez is correct. It is the only way. If we wish to reach the main body of the train…”
“Who said ‘we’?” Jalin interrupted. He straightened his shoulders and looked down at the young woman. “The Voca and I will do this. If the graverobber will not come willingly then you can remain here with the…” he paused, “...Doctor.” His voice was cool.
“Like Hells I will,” Lyric replied.
Jalin’s eyebrows rose in response to the red-haired woman’s defiance.
“We have a duty, Cortez,” she continued.
Jalin narrowed his eyes.“One I am well aware of, nenita.”
Lyric popped her right index finger up and pointed it at Jalin’s nose. “No. I am no longer a child, and you will not treat me like one.”
The pair stood glaring at each other, neither willing to back down.
Jalin ran his tongue across his teeth in consideration of her words. “Fine. Boyorquez stays.”
“No,” Esperanza replied simply.
Jalin’s head whipped around to where Esperanza sat, hands folded, calmly sitting on the red couch.
“Perdóname?!” he demanded.
Esperanza stood and smoothed her robes, “You are outnumbered on this one, Cortez. We all go. It is the only way.”
Emilio raised his hand. “I’m perfectly happy to stay here,” he offered.
Three sets of eyes turned to stare at him.
“No? Not happy with the idea of leaving me with a potential army of ghouls to march on the countryside?” Emilio offered a harmless smile. He shook his head. “No, me neither. It’s a terrible idea.” He looked around the car and began to gather his belongings. “I assure you, I am just as eager as you are to get out of here, though not so eager as to climb on the roof of railcar…,” He hefted his medical satchel and adjusted its strap so it could be slung across his back. “Perhaps we can find a way to unhook the railcars on the other end. Might solve one of the several problems we are currently faced with…,” he rambled.
Lyric tilted her head to the side as she listened to Emilio.
“Doctor?” she asked.
Emilio stopped his random comments and looked over at Lyric. “Hrmm?” He smiled at her as he shoved his hat inside his jacket and buttoned it closed.
She shook her head, “Never mind.”
How could anyone consider this man a threat?
Dispatching the staff in the car had been easy.
Choosing the manner of their demise was the greatest challenge. Normally, it would have been a quick bone dagger under the ribs or perhaps a punch stiletto to the base of the skull. Herrera favored the garrote, but they needed the uniforms unmarred. The blue-gray coat with the stylized scorpion button at the collar. They all had to look pristine. The wire strangulation device often sliced through skin and would have ruined the gear he needed.
He preferred working alone—a single man who could slip in, complete the task, and slip back out. He did not have to rely on the skills of others. If things went sideways, he knew who to blame.
But orders were orders, and it was not his place to question the words of El Coro Hueco when they were given. He knew his place. He knew his duty. He was the quiet voice of death that whispered in the shadows - La Garra.
He glanced briefly at the others in his group. Those also called to serve on this day.
Each was chosen for their aptitude and skill. Their eyes were sharp, and their reflexes were lightning-quick. They would get the job done.
Their point man was named Bonilla. He had the distinction of knowing who their quarry on board was. Herrera and the rest of the team only knew they would be in the first-class car toward the head of the train. Keeping the identity of the target secret ensured none of them could leak the details. If the details did leak, they would also know who was responsible.
The plan was simple: Board the Staff Car as the train left the station to avoid detection. Dispatch the staff and take their uniforms. From there, they would move forward to the first-class car. Bonilla would get a visual confirmation of the target, and then they would do their jobs.
It was Herrera’s job to ensure Bonilla was silenced if captured. His eyes slid across the cabin to the man and sized him up and down. Did he know his life was also forfeited today? Surely, he must.
Herrera quietly wondered who among their crew had been assigned to ensure his own tongue never wagged. He stretched his fingers. It was unimportant. If they called him, he was ready to die for Ossilaro, the Eater of Bone.
The train slowly lurched to one side as it began taking a long curve around and through the hills. Herrera looked up and out the back window of the car. Something glinted in the light atop the roof of the car behind theirs. Gold and black, and far too familiar.
Herrera spun on his heel. “Bonilla!” he hissed. “There’s a damned Inquisitor climbing across the roof of the cattle car!”
Bonilla looked over at Herrera. His right eyebrow twitched slightly.
“Nothing in the reconnaissance report indicated there would be Inquisitors on this run.” He stepped smoothly to Herrera’s side and glanced out the window.
A figure clad in Inquisitorial colors was slowly making his deliberate way across the roof of the car behind theirs.
“Where there is one, there are more,” Bonilla commented. He looked at Herrera and said, “Take Tita and go outside.” A woman in a brakeman’s uniform stood and joined them at the car's rear.
Bonilla continued, “See if you can uncouple the cars. We are far enough into The Reach that they cannot communicate with anyone immediately.” He smiled slyly. “And who knows, maybe the wandering armies of the Corpse Wars will test the dear Inquisitor’s faith.”
Hererra reached for the door latch. Bonilla leaned over. “If you can’t uncouple the cars, dispose of the good Inquisitor however you need to. We don’t need a Hand of Hil shedding too much light on things today.”
Herrera nodded. “Consider it done.”
Bonilla strode toward the front of the car. “We should be hitting the next stop soon. When you are finished, meet me in the Dining Car. Alvarez, you’re with me.” Bonilla slid open the door and stepped out.
Herrera adjusted the borrowed uniform he wore and patted his left wrist. His bone sling was secure. A simple device made of leather strapping and stretchable animal sinews, it fired poison-laced needle darts at a target. It was Herrera’s second favorite weapon after the garrote. Depending on the wind outside, it would either help or negate the weapon’s efficiency. Regardless, he would have to deal with the Inquisitor quickly.
They stepped outside onto the platform and pulled the door closed.
Herrera looked around and then turned to Tita. He gestured quickly with his hands. “Do you see the release lever?” he asked her. It was a simple enough language that many of them used when silence was needed or speaking was difficult.
Tita shrugged and looked around.
Gritting his teeth, Herrera leaned over to see the train car coupling. Instead of a traditional latching mechanism, the coupler was like nothing he had ever seen. Two large blocks of steel, inside which were housed equally large balls of shiny metal, were fastened together by some unseen force. Thick black cables ran from each car, terminating at the strange fixture.
Tita shook her head and looked for anything to show them how to uncouple the cars. Her eyes settled on a placard fixed to the rear wall next to the door. She tapped Herrera on the shoulder and pointed. A cogwheel and crossed hammers.
Herrera swore.
They were on a Mechanist Guild train!
“Goddamn Mechanist Guild!” The train they boarded was the latest creation of the Mechanist Guild. Dreamers and Madmen, the Guild specialized in new creations for both leisure and war. Hope and nightmares fueled their creative imaginations, and the train they rode was another testament to their work.
Tita frowned and tapped Herrera on the shoulder once more. He looked over at her.
She gestured with her hands, “I’m going inside. Will look for a switch. Keep an eye on HIM.” She pointed toward the roof.
Herrera nodded as Tita returned inside. Readying himself, Herrera lept from the staff car's platform onto the cattle car's ladder. As he grasped hold of the metal rungs, a whiff of something foul hit him in the face. He gagged.
“Ugh! One of the cows must have died.”
Shaking it off, he climbed the ladder. He had a job to do.
Something Rotten
Climbing across the top of a cattle car on a moving train was certainly not something that Emilio Kane ever thought he would be doing.
The wind ripped past him as he grasped hold of the wooden planks and crawled slowly along the rooftop. The roof had a narrow, elevated walkway built atop the car. It was designed for brakemen to walk from one car to the next. He was no brakeman. One wrong step and any one of them would be flung from the top of the car to a less-than-desirable fate.
