“Your tea, miss.” The little cup rattled on its plate with the rocking of the train carriage as the waitress set it down on the white tablecloth. Kelly smiled at the waitress, whose green hair was tied into a neat pony tail. The waitress had tattoos along her arms which Kelly noticed were well-toned. She was cute.
To Kelly’s right the rolling valleys of New Mexico stretched on for miles, a dry ocean of rocks, sand and shrubs under an angry silver sky. But the clouds were a welcome sight. Maybe soon Kelly would smell the rain. For now the aroma of chamomile filled her senses as she lightly blew on her tea. Across from her, Dunstan munched on potato chips, a can of Red Bull set to the right of his laptop.
“You do know there’s a restaurant car right there,” Kelly pointed out.
“I don’t know…” Dunstan slurped at his energy drink. “I’m feeling snacky.”
“Right.”
Dunstan leaned forward lowered his voice. “So, what are you going to say to Julia at this meeting?”
“Cherry.” Kelly sipped her tea. “If we find a way to convince Julia that her daughter is in danger because of Anton’s exploits, then maybe she’ll become just a little more cooperative.”
“Why not send Santiago onto that lead I found, take Cherry hostage ourselves?”
“Because Julia is a powerful woman, and powerful women don’t budge. We need Julia as an asset, not an enemy. We know she has an empire behind her, and we know she might be capable of murder and god knows what else…” Kelly gazed out the window for a moment. “No… I wouldn’t come between her and her daughter unless I had no other choice.”
Dunstan rapped his fingers on the table and leaned back. “Then it’s settled.” He glanced something behind Kelly and his expression changed, paled slightly, his lips tightened. “There’s a man on your seven o’clock looking real interested in us. Dark wavy hair. Black vest, white shirt. Fifth booth from the door.”
“Figures.” Kelly finished her tea. No hint of a reaction in her voice. “One tango at the far end of the carriage. Tattoo of a snake on his right forearm. Concealed weapon in his jacket.”
Kelly noticed the green-haired waitress, whose eyes fell upon snake-arm and whose hand hovered nervously for just a second over her chest. It was enough. Kelly was already operating on the assumption that anyone and everyone was a threat. The waitress moved on to serve another diner.
“The waitress,” Kelly mouthed, and pointed with her eyes.
Dunstan nodded, slowly. The signs of anticipation were beginning to show in him, the quickened breath, the hypersensitivity, darting eyes, fidgeting hands.
“Easy,” Kelly said. “Run some scans, I’m going to need your help.”
“What about—”
“I’ll handle them.”
“Sure, it’s only three against one.”
“I’ll handle them,” Kelly reaffirmed, though on the inside she wasn’t feeling so sure, but if she panicked then Dunstan would panic, and that wouldn’t help anyone.
Dunstan packed away his laptop and took out his phone. “They’ll ping us.”
“I know. They’re onto us anyway.” Kelly looked around, not caring that the enemy could see her now. There were too many civilians in this carriage. “We’re not getting off this train and if we do there’s nowhere to go.”
Damn… This won’t be an easy fight.
Kelly considered the M9 in the hip-holster tucked away under her jacket, and the combat knife sheathed on her ankle, concealed by the leg of her trousers.
Dunstan looked up from his phone. “Dining car behind you is empty.”
Kelly stood up. “Let’s go. Now.”
Kelly and Dunstan moved. Black-Vest, Green-Hair and Snake-Arm pursued, hanging back like wary coyotes, careful not to draw too much attention to themselves, but obvious enough to send a chill down Kelly’s spine as she stepped into the next empty restaurant car.
“Lock the door,” she told Dunstan.
Dunstan ran an override of the train’s security systems and the little green bar next to the door’s open button flicked to red.
“That won’t keep them out for long.”
“I know.” Kelly’s eyes scanned over the entire dining car. The isle was just wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side. Along the walls were booths with white-clothed tables, crystal glasses, plates and cutlery.
Kelly struggled to calm her breathing. Enough! Think, Kelly. Do I stay or run?
“Head that way and lock the door behind you,” she ordered Dunstan. “Do not open it, you hear me?”
Dunstan hesitated, his eyes flicked to the group massing behind them.
“Is that understood?” Kelly repeated.
He nodded. “Yes.”
He left. The door clicked shut behind him. Red light.
He’s safe… It was Kelly last thought before her assailants stormed into the dining car. Again they locked the door behind them.
Snake-arm stood in the front, shifting his jacket to expose the grip of a pistol; Green-hair retrieved a switch-blade from her bodice, and the other appeared to be unarmed, although Kelly wouldn’t take that for granted.
“There’s an alternative here,” Kelly tried, though their faces were unmoving, their eyes locked on hers. Kelly’s hand hovered over her gun. “If you kill a government agent, even here, there will be consequences.”
A glance from Green-hair, a shifting of a foot, the slightest movement of Snake-arm’s hand, and Kelly drew her M9. Crack. The bullet thumped into Snake-arm’s torso and he stood there, knees ready to buckle, perhaps not knowing what had just happened. Black-vest assaulted Kelly’s gun, wrapping two leathery hands around her wrists and forcing the muzzle of the Beretta away from his belly. The movement slammed Kelly into the table on her right. An opening appeared for Green-hair to rush in and slash at Kelly’s neck and arms, but Kelly retaliated with a push-kick, heaving the lighter woman against the left-side table. Kelly’s arms went up as Black-vest yanked for the gun, and as they wrestled, control of the weapon slowly forfeited to him, the larger opponent. Kelly used her Black-vest as a shield, keeping a barrier between her and Green-hair, keeping well away from that knife. Kelly thrust her elbow into Black-vest’s upper chest, he staggered back just a second and then lunged again for the gun, pulling it down and forcing Kelly to bend forwards. She noticed that Snake-arm was still on his feet, though wounded, and still dangerous, but for the seconds that the M9 was pointed at his torso and Kelly squeezed off two more shots. This time Snake-arm went down.
Kelly felt Black-vest’s struggling breath on the back of her neck as he bore his weight upon her. She threw her head back as hard as she could. Lip split against teeth. A sharp pain radiated from the back of her skull but the blow created an opening. Just as Green-hair slashed at Kelly’s throat she twisted away from the blade, under Black-vest’s arms, and again put the man between Green-hair and herself. The edge of the blade missed Kelly’s neck but left at painful gash in Kelly’s upper arm, and the blood ran hot and wet to her elbow. She was fast loosing strength, and resisting Black-vest soon felt like wrestling with a bear. He bashed the gun and her hands against a table, small bones crunched, and she was forced to let go. The M9 clattered onto the seat and landed under the table.
Now that Kelly was unarmed, Black-vest threw a barrage of heavy punches at her head, each of which she barely avoided by stepping and skipping backwards. As space opened up between them Kelly took to hurling wine glasses and dinner plates to keep her attackers at bay, but even the weight of a glass had become heavy in her hands. She needed this fight to end.
Green-hair took the lead, dashing past Black-vest, blade at her hip, poised for a thrust. Kelly effortlessly slipped off her jacket and used the fabric to catch the blade and keep it safely wrapped up. Kelly then closed the distance, threw her head forward, cartilage crunched and blood drizzled from Green-hair’s nose, and then Kelly twisted Green-hair’s wrist and the knife slipped from her fingers. Kelly followed with an open-palm strike to the side of the head, causing Green-hair to blink rapidly, dazed, just as Black-vest returned to the fight. Kelly wrapped her jacket around Green-hair’s head, pushed her into Black-vest, drew the knife from her own boot, and lunged.
Kelly was only grateful not to have seen the look in Green-hair’s eyes as the blade sank into her neck, piercing into cartilage, tendon and flesh. An awful gurgling sound came from the face hidden behind the jacket. For a moment Black-vest paused as his partner collapsed to the ground.
Kelly could tell in an instant that the death of Black-vest’s companion had brought about a rageful second wind in him. He screamed, hideously, throwing jabs and punches too ferocious for Kelly to defend against for long. She raised her hand behind her ear, using her forearm to distribute the force of a blow that otherwise would have knocked her unconscious, or worse. A white light flashed within her mind. Then she felt fingers digging painfully into her left shoulder. With a grunt Black-vest threw her over one of the tables and glass cracked beneath her weight. A heavy hand pounded her head against the tabletop and pinned it there. She had to find a way out of this. Any way. Anything! She clutched with one hand at Black-vest’s wrist and tried to pull it away from her head, and with the other hand she lashed back at his head, leaving little bits of skin under her finger nails. But scratching was no use. This late in the fight it’d be a wonder if he even felt the pain. Despair crept into her mind, and in a last ditch effort she groped for anything she could use as a weapon.
In a sudden jerking motion Black-vest pulled Kelly away from the table. She tried to cling on but only dragged the table cloth with her, and the glasses, plates and cutlery came crashing to the ground around them. Kelly head was spinning, and her vision was blurred like wearing glasses that had fogged up. Even if Black-vest hadn’t thrown her down she doubted if she could have stood on her own. But she was determined, not just to win but to survive – she craved it with every fibre of her being. Don’t stop. Don’t let it end. Do whatever it takes to survive. As she clambered desperately away from Black-vest she realised there was something solid, and cold, clasped in her hand. A silver fork. Black-vest bent over her. Kelly’s arm that had been cut felt non-existent, her head felt likely to explode, and her back and ribs ached. A hand grabbed again at the back of her head and she screamed as the hair was ripped from her scalp. Then she swung her fist back and the prongs of the silver fork dug into something wet and squishy. Black-vest gave an ugly howl and Kelly looked up to see the big man holding his hands over his face, the end of the fork sticking out between his fingers, right where his eye would have been.
Now, Kelly thought. Now, end it!
She climbed, unsteadily, to her feet, and swaying back and forth she approached Black-vest. She delivered a punch with everything she had, precisely, to his liver. He gaped. His legs wobbled. She drove her boot into his knee, heard reluctantly the stretching and snapping of ligaments. He went down, kneeling as if for execution. Kelly grabbed Black-vest behind the ear and slammed the side of his head into the corner of the table. He was killed instantly.
What followed was a profound and uncomfortable silence, and Kelly had never felt more alone in the world than she did in that moment. Her eyes remained fixed on her trembling hands, the hands of a killer, slick with blood. A dragging sound caught her ear, and a shallow gurgling breathing. It was the first man, whom she had shot three times, crawling towards the gun under the table. He must have known he was never going to make it, but in that moment Kelly understood him more than she would ever understand anyone ever again. His injuries were severe. Sooner or later he was going to die. Kelly stood up, slowly, as her body felt heavy. She found the switch blade that Green-hair had dropped. She went and knelt beside the man with the rattle snake tattoo, and after rolling him over with some effort, she aimed the knife over his heart. He raised his own hands slowly, having little strength left to resist, he placed his hands around Kelly’s and mouthed a single word: please.
Please, end it mercifully; or please, let me live.
Kelly didn’t know. She didn’t care. She eased the blade between his ribs and as soon as it pieced the skin the man’s grip tightened and he tried to force the blade away. Kelly pursed her lips. She hadn’t noticed the tears running down her cheeks. It only took a couple of seconds for the last man’s struggles to end.
A wave of panic rocked Kelly’s body, from her belly to her neckline, the shivering was uncontrollable as she fell away from the corpse before her and gazed upon the tragic scene. A choking cry passed her lips and she raised her hands to her mouth to keep it in, only to force upon herself that awful metallic taste. She wanted to scream. She wanted the shaking to stop.
She had survived.
But the blood was like acid on her hands.
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