tagNon-EroticMidnight Train To Nowhere Ch. 03

Midnight Train To Nowhere Ch. 03

byHeathen Hemmingway©

Chapter 3

The Kid sees red

Jeremy Michael Finch was pissed. He was beyond angry, he was thermonuclear. He had heard the expression 'I saw red' many times before, but until now it never made sense. Tonight it came to him with startling clarity as the world literally turned red before his eyes. His hands were gripping the wheel of the old Chevy Vega so tightly that the knuckles were white. The last twenty fours had been a constant lashing of his ego and a non-stop test of his resolve. He suffered through not one, not two, but three delayed flights and a terminally long connecting flight with an even longer layover in an obscenely loud terminal, trapped with a whole horde of hoodrats and ghetto thug- monkeys, not to mention the small army of Latinos who seemed to have no less than three dozen screaming children.

Once his feet were finally on solid ground he had to tolerate some dumb-shit kid at the car rental, nearly having his ass beaten by the dumb-shit kid's equally dumb-shit father, and then to top things off when he finally got his hands on a halfway decent rental car, the AC conked out two hours later and then the goddamned thing died on him and left him stranded in the middle of Bumfuck Egypt.

He resorted to buying the first car he could get his hands on with what little of his cash remained, and only after an hour into the next leg of the trip did he realize he had left his wallet in the broken down rental. While screaming profanities so vulgar that he surprised even himself, he barreled back down the barren country road in his new car -- a ragged primer- grey Chevy Vega, only to arrive at the spot where the rental car died to find it gone. 'All my car's have got the GPS on them in case somethin' goes wrong.' He remembered the hick at the rental telling him. 'Gee-pee-ess', the rube had pronounced it, which in itself was irritating enough to make him want to kill the hick.

While he stood there in front of the Vega staring blankly at the spot the rental car once occupied, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and snarled at it with gnashing teeth, pushing the SEND button and holding it up to his ear.

"This had better fucking be some good fucking news." He grunted.

Luckily for The Kid, it was.

"Tell me you've got my tackle." He barked into the phone.

'I've got your tackle.' A man's voice replied.

"Tell me you've got the maps and the train schedule."

'I have the maps and the train schedule.'

"When can you be at the rally point?"

'I'm already there. You've got two hours or you're going to miss your window of opportunity with the train. If it makes it to the Lubbock station the train's going to be full of passenger's and you've wasted your time. Not to mention the weather is shit so that cuts into your transit time. I would advise you hurry Finch.'

Just under two hours later he was sitting on a deserted gravel road, looking at a railroad crossing ahead of him.

"I'm gonna do it." He told himself. "Yeah. Fuck yeah I'm gonna do it."

He got out of the car and took a long look around. It was raining sporadically, large stray drops of raining splashing down and raising up little puffs of dust. Lightning lit up the sky at random and he could hear the distant rumble of thunder.

'Not only has it been one of the most frustrating fucked-up nights of my life.' He thought. 'I'm in the desert and it's fucking raining.'

After he was convinced he was totally alone, he spoke to himself aloud.

"Yeah I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna derail a train. And I'm gonna kill that bitch."

He went back to the car and retrieved a large duffle bag from the trunk. He took a cloth from the bag and hurriedly wiped down the interior wherever he thought he may have touched it including all of the obvious spots; the steering wheel, the door handles, the seats, etc. As he was finishing he heard a faint metallic ringing noise, followed by a wheezy howl. He leapt behind the wheel of the Vega, cranked it and gunned the gas, dashing forward onto the railroad tracks just before the crossbars went down around him. He got out of the car quickly and ran to pick up the duffle bag. As he headed into the scrub to find a secure spot to stage his attack, he looked back at the Vega trapped inside the crossbars and laughed. Even if someone were to happen across the car before the train made the crossing, they wouldn't be able to move it out of the way in time.

"Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do." He heckled merrily as he disappeared into the brush.

The Kid catches a train

He wasn't walking toward the wrecked train; he was damn near strutting. If he were any giddier than he felt at the moment, it would have taken all of his restraint to keep from skipping his way to the train. He was sporting a huge erection, one that felt as hard as glass.

Less than five minutes earlier he was watching the train in the distance as it bore down on the Vega, only taking his eyes away long enough to pull a long snort of blow from a small brass canister he kept in his inside jacket pocket.

"Fuck yeah." He kept saying under his breath, and as the train grew closer he said it louder and louder.

The train's horn split the night with a screaming roar, and he could hear the brakes engage and lock down, followed by a blinding shower of sparks erupting from the running gear. The horn continued to wail, the train's lights flashing and blinking in an attempt to alert the driver of the car that was sitting on the tracks. Only unknown to the train's Engineer, the driver was secured away behind a dense patch of underbrush a hundred yards away.

Fuck yeah!" He bellowed, his voice drowned out by the train horn. "Fuck yeah! FUCK yeah!"

The wailing horn reached a fever pitch and died out just moments before the train struck the trapped Vega, and as it was crushed and folded under the train's engine he felt a moment of disappointment. He was expecting the train to leave its tracks and send cars flying like a grand scene in a disaster flick, but instead the front of the engine kicked up to one side at an odd angle and slowly pulverized the pitiful old Vega into an unrecognizable mass of metal.

'It's probably worth more now than then I bought it.' He mused as he stood up and made his way to the train.

The beleaguered train came to a gradual and painful stop, clinking and clattering as it did so. The train cars all made loud jostling and clanking noises as they came to a stop in order, shuddering and complaining into the distance behind the train. The Engineer jammed on the horn one last time, presumably to warn anyone in the area of the emergency. The Kid opened the duffle bag and withdrew a rectangular box made of heavy grade rubberized metal. The box had two locks, one on each end. The locks were the type with a series of rotating numbered barrels. He dialed each barrel to 666 and the locks popped open with a snap.

"Yesss." The Kid hissed. "Totally worth it."

The box contained a specialized Steyr AUG A3 rifle, an Austrian weapon made for the sole purpose of putting neat holes in someone's ass with great expediency. He had paid dearly for it, but he justified the expense by telling himself over and over again 'No one fucks with Jeremy Finch. Especially not some stupid bitch.'

The rifle was divided into separate components, the rifle, the sight -- a fine piece of optics fitted with a top-mounted tactical green laser sight -- and a pair of transparent polymer magazines that clipped together so that when the first magazine went dry, it could quickly be removed and turned over, allowing the user to insert the second magazine. He slapped the magazine into the socket with a snap and then slid the sight onto the rail, pushing it forward until it locked into place. Then he flicked the safety over and brought the rifle up, the scope to his eye. He looked through the scope and saw only darkness, pulled his head back from the scope for a moment and eyed the weapon cautiously then spat out loud. "Really man. Fuck me." He said, flipping the scope's lens cover up. "Seriously man, get your shit together."

He sighted in on the side of the train, sweeping to find a fixed target so he could quickly adjust the sight. Through the scope he saw a door on the car behind the engine open and an older fellow in a sharp-looking uniform step out, rather shakily.

"That'll do." He said, pushing a button the scope. The green laser lit up and instantly resolved into a fine pinpoint. He peered through the scope and played the laser along until it found the old fellow. He kept the laser beam behind the unknowing man, so he wouldn't catch sight of it until it was too late. "And wait a second..." He whispered, waiting. The train made another loud ratcheting sound as one of the rearmost cars ground to a halt, and then he snapped the laser pointer onto the man and pulled the trigger, three quick flexes of his right index finger. The gun made a muffled barking noise and the old fellow went down, the noise lost in the commotion made by the train.

"Thank you for your contribution." He smirked, then stood and made his way toward the train. There was, of course, the possibility that someone else would exit the train and see him, but he was prepared to contend with that as it happened.

'She went coach, and my guy said the last several cars should be empty. Bad thing about late night transit, alot of empty seats. So they would seat as many people as practical in the forward cars, with the first class car directly behind the engine and the coach cars behind that. And those rich fuckers in first class aren't going to risk their necks by venturing out unless they're in immediate danger, so they're much more likely to stay dug in. Just long enough for me to get in, kill that stupid bitch and get out. So, I make for the first coach car and work my way back quick. Anybody in my way gets it. I just hope there's no kids in there.'

There was not a single soft spot in his heart for children; he didn't operate with anything inconvenient like rules of engagement or moral imperatives that would otherwise prevent him from hurting or killing a child, he just didn't like children and considered killing them to be an unnecessary waste of his time.

As he approached the train he played the laser sight along the windows, hoping to pick up some sign of movement. He couldn't detect anything in the dark cars, which made him a bit apprehensive. His blood was up, though, and the thought of beating that silly bitch half to death then shooting her square in her crotch was too much for him to risk any more caution. 'Besides, who would be stupid enough to fuck with me?' He thought. 'Who would fuck with me?'

He reached the first coach car and pushed the bi-fold door open with the butt of the gun and then stepped gallantly inside, sweeping the barrel of the gun from left to right in a swift snapping motion. He felt like Gary Oldman in a scene from a movie, parting a beaded curtain flamboyantly and making a dramatic entrance, a maniac grin on his face as he came to visit a panicked drug-holder tucked away into a corner of a run-down Little Italy tenement.

Instead he found himself looking down the aisle of the dark and empty train car. He waited for several long seconds, listening for any telltale sign of little Lucille hiding somewhere, maybe a harsh breath or a sob. He heard nothing. He made his way down the aisle toward the next car. He slowly opened the partition door and stepped into the next car, and suddenly a fist came out of the gloom and he was flying backwards through the air.

'Don't drop the gun.' Was the only thought he could manage as a blinding pain bloomed in his nose, an electric jolt of agony that threw his senses askew. The pain was so instant and intense that he barely felt as he struck the metal floor hard. 'Don't drop the gun!'

Unfortunately for The Kid, trying not to drop his gun would soon be the least of his worries. Standing in the partition between the two train cars was a man, dressed in black.

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