Living History, Ben Essex [my miracle luna book free read TXT] 📗

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, White 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