Dobson and Misty moved through the train, passing from empty car to empty car, under the ever-watchful eye of their electronic escort. His nagging voice tried to usher them along faster, but the pair took their sweet time, dutifully checking every car before transitioning to the next. Dobson blocked each automatic doorway as she went. Realistically, it wouldn’t do any good this deep inside the train, but it annoyed their escort to no end and, for Dobson, that was reason enough.

  “Again,” their escort’s distorted voice crackled from the intercom box in the corner, “for the last time. There is no need to keep doing that. I am a man of my word.”

  “Says the criminal sent to snuff out a town of innocents,” Dobson replied. Bending at the knees, she locked her arms around one of the fancy tufted chairs placed meticulously throughout the train car and lifted, tearing the chair free from its mount. Broken bolts bounced near her feet as she lugged the ugly furniture across the room and used it to block the sliding door.

  “I can be honest without having a conscience.” Their escort’s buzzing voice filled the air with an indignant scoff. “They’re mutually exclusive.”

  Misty awaited Dobson in the next train car. This particular car appeared to be a service station, devoid of the rest of the train’s bloated opulence, prioritizing function over glamor. Normally, Dobson would have felt more at home here, in the working man’s domain, but something about the service car had her hackles up.

  Misty must have felt it, too. She stood at the entrance to the next junction with an uneasy smile hovering over her lips.

  Dobson approached cautiously. “Something wrong?”

  “This next door is a bit of a doozy.” The door in question wasn’t any ordinary door, either. A thick slab of solid steel, it was the kind of entrance one expected to find housed in a bank vault, not here, on a train. Misty gnawed her bottom lip as her eyes swept from corner to corner, searching for weaknesses. “It’s sealed shut tighter than a clenched bum hole. And looks to be reinforced, to boot.”

  Amidst Misty’s colorful descriptions, Dobson caught what her partner wasn’t saying. Everyone knew the big bad boss always reserved the best security for themselves. They’d reached the end of the line. Whoever had allowed them to get this far was waiting for them on the other side.

  “Ah, yes. Good eye,” the voice congratulated. “Good luck blowing a hole in that.”

  “What’s that, love?” Misty jerked her head up at the security box and offered a wide, brimming smile. “I don’t suppose that was a challenge, was it? Oh, how I love those.”

  “Absolutely not,” their escort replied flatly. “I’ve already seen what you can do with a challenge. Lord knows, I don’t need the two of you destroying another train just to prove yourselves.”

  The stranger knew they’d derailed the prisoner train. Which, invariably, meant he probably knew who they were, as well. The thought made Dobson queasy.

  “Here’s what happens next,” the man’s voice squawked back over the comm box. “I will open the door for you, no explosives necessary, after you leave your weapons out here in the service area.”

  Misty laughed at the suggestion. Several awkward seconds crawled past before realization broke across her bloodied face. “Wait, that wasn’t a joke?” She turned to Dobson, her mouth twisted downwards. “He’s serious?”

  Dobson verbally confirmed what their escort obviously already knew. “That’s not happening.”

  The voice crackled back over the intercom, flat with irritation. “In case you have forgotten, I’m the one who makes the rules around here. Either come unarmed, or don’t come at all.”

  “Alright then. We’ll do it the fun way.” Shrugging, Misty wandered away from the door on her search for an alternative way in. The surrounding train car was an all-in-one service area, complete with storage, a sink well, and a meal prep area. Misty moved to the grill and checked, disappointed, perhaps, that the lack of gas hookups meant she couldn’t blow the whole thing sky high.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Oh, I know!” Misty swiveled back around, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Say, Dobsy, do you remember that rocket launcher you stashed outside?”

  Dobson mentally kicked herself for not lugging it with them. “I do indeed.”

  “Do you suppose it could break the door in?”

  Dobson rapped her knuckles against the door, using sound to gauge the thickness of the steel. “I reckon it just might.”

  It wouldn’t. Not an ice cream sundae’s chance in hell. But the big bad boss didn’t need to know that.

  “Well, here’s the thing,” their escort’s voice crackled overhead with a wistful sigh. “Did you notice how the train was empty? Oddly convenient, right? Well, not really, because I sent the rest of my men outside. They’re waiting at the rear of the train with all of the weapons you conveniently left behind. And if either of you even thinks of stepping back outside without my blessing, you’ll be blasted to smithereens.”

  “Gee, mister, and here I thought you said we killed everyone.”

  “I lied.”

  Misty scowled. “So much for being a man of your word.”

  “I lied about that as well,” the man replied nonchalantly. “Now, you really only have two options here. Set your weapons aside and you and I can have a friendly chat. I only wish to talk. As I said before, you have something I want.”

  There was a pregnant pause before he concluded, “Or don’t. And face the wrath of the men waiting outside. It’s up to you.”

  “Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.” Worry gnawed at the edges of Misty’s expression. She pulled the pistol from her belt and tossed it aside. “I don’t think we have much of a choice here, Dobsy. Best do as the man says.”

  Reluctantly, Dobson set her rifle against the scuffed tile.

  “All of it,” the voice emitted as a growl over the crackling intercom.

  A pistol, two magazines, a fistful of loose bullets, and all of Dobson’s scrapped pieces of weaponry joined her rifle on the floor. The man wasn’t satisfied until her pockets were empty.

  “You want this too?” She demanded, ripping the book of crossword puzzles from her breast pocket and waving it in front of her face.

  “I see no harm in you keeping that.”

  She didn’t need it, but Dobson stuffed the book back into her breast pocket alongside the ballpoint pen regardless. It was like an old friend. Familiar and yet annoying. Who knows, with a little luck, perhaps she would finally learn what rhymed with orange before the man squirreled away inside sentenced her and Misty to death.

  “Excellent.” The man’s tone practically dripped with smug satisfaction. “Now, step away from your weapons and, as promised, I will let you in. Wipe your feet, if you would be so kind. And remember, this is a friendly conversation. Friends do not kill friends, understood?”

  Dobson and Misty dutifully stepped closer to the door. A heavy thunk-thunk-thunk followed as the spinning vault handle rotated to the left, releasing the inner locking mechanisms one by one. Dobson watched with a mix of intrigue and trepidation. Unlike the rest of the train, this door was manually operated. Meaning that in the event of a full system breach, the perpetrators would be physically barred from accessing the head train car. At least not without copious amounts of gunpowder and fire.

  At last, the heavy vault door swung open and a small bearded man met them at the entrance. He had the demeanor of a lost lamb that’d unknowingly strayed into a wolf den. The small man gazed up at Dobson and Misty without speaking. The fear in his eyes was amplified by the rounded spectacles perched on his nose. Averting his gaze to his polished shoes, he stepped aside, allowing them entry.

  Dobson openly stared as she followed Misty inside. The man wasn’t visibly augmented, not for the work of a muscled goon, anyway. His utilitarian-style uniform marked him as something far more valuable—the conductor.

  “Welcome, welcome, come in.” A smartly dressed man in a black suit lounged across from them in a leather wingback chair.

  A wide-brimmed hat rested awkwardly on his head. It hung low around his ears and tilted slightly to the left, as though it were heavier than it looked. Every piece of his ensemble had been selected based on color. From his black hat, to his black slacks and boots, all the way to the fancy black gloves pulled tight over each hand. The leather was soft and supple from lack of use.

  The man held a blood-stained handkerchief to his nose with one hand—paisley pink, not black—and a drink in the other. “Take a seat.” He gestured to a set of empty chairs with a tip of his head. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Dobson studied the empty seats with unease.

  “Now, now, they’re perfectly safe,” the man tutted. “As I said, I’ve been expecting you for some time now.”

  Misty wore a look of pure innocence as her wide-eyed gaze wandered the room, taking in the head train car’s splendor. The walls boasted intricate black and gold patterns against a sea of deep red. Dark polished wood flooring peeked out around the edges of the plush carpets. Crystal lamps lined the walls, designed to mimic the low burn of candle flame. The majority of the room’s lighting came from the fake hearth insert located behind the man in black’s leather chair.

  “Abner!” The man in black snapped at the conductor, who still stood awkwardly in the open doorway, wringing his hands. “Where is your sense of hospitality? Close the door and fetch our guests a drink already.”

  On his command, the spinning latch locked back into place with a thunk, sealing Dobson and Misty inside.