Saga Five: The Inferno
Chapter 18 – Good Friday
1865, Washington, D.C.
Wild Card Cass
A short note rested open on the step from his wife, informing him of their theatre plans with the Major, and his fiancée for the evening. The bearded man stood tall, facing the Washington Monument across the way and behind that...Capitol Hill, both still under construction; watching over his war-torn land the only way he knew how, amongst them. He dare not look his guest, who was sitting down next to him, in the eyes.
This was his last meeting of the day, an unscheduled meeting. One nobody would ever know about. He feared, albeit the orchestrator of putting an end to the war, that he would not be around to see it. The forsaken hero looked around at his citizens celebrating. He took refuge here in the North, where the war was over. He knew deep down that he had done it, but also understood he was not yet finished giving to the cause.
"What will happen now?" President Lincoln asked.
"Now that you've stopped him?" the rustic agent replied.
It was a beautiful day with a brooding twilight on the horizon. Poor Abraham Lincoln looked down on a man who has been his constant hidden shadow and consort, off and on, throughout his entire life, never aging a day. His glowing white beard showered over them in false hope. His dog, Royal, walked over to the President and for a second he once again felt like a common man. Abe got down with one knee on the cold stone stair to pet the mutt. Royal softly cried, and Wild Card went on, "...You suffer the consequences."
August 9th, 1865
Santa Fe RR, KS
The Santa Fe Railroad line was one of many mechanical legs stretching west to connect the country. Eventually they would join together with the Central Pacific from California and come to be called the Transcontinental Railroad. The sounds of the train echoed. Sounds Marshall was all too familiar with. The Santa Fe line was beautiful; new age steel tracks lining the wild terrain tightly. The cars were brand new. When they first boarded the train, Marshall rubbed his fingers along the polished black and golden calligraphy on the outside which read, "Trojan Railroads." Marshall sat in the seat right next to the window with his eyes closed.
The tracks were surrounded by endless wilderness. Nothing but dry barren land as far as the eye coud see. Ira looked around, sitting by the other window across from Marshall. How could there be a town out here? What importance can such a place be in the middle of nowhere? Ira sat there, looking ahead, clutching his modified rifle tightly, pressing through the pain of his shoulder.
Stolen novel; please report.
The Iron Gate which shelled the end of the caboose was a cold metal. Peyton pressed one of his boots up against it as he leaned back on the door. He needed the fresh air. He struck a match off the gate and lit his skinny cigar. The tracks rushed by underneath him. Peyton could not forget about Wichita. He could not let go of the kid.
They were one in the same, two sides of a coin, the past and the future, the young and the old. It was Peyton who should have died that night. Like so many times before... And yet he lived on, fated to always be one step ahead of death, ever dreading the day it came for him and that moment after, when he is forced to confront all those he personally sent to the other side.
The train was the longest to date. Towards the head of the train was the infirmary, where Will and Emma Davis were being tended to by medics and military doctors. Wild Card Cass walked through the car to check on them. Will was awake and holding Emma's hand across the beds. Wild Card continued down the train, past the cars full of troops and the artillery cars, until he reached Marshall and Ira's lone car. His dog, Royal sat under one of the booths closest to Wild Card in front.
He sat down above Royal fast asleep and faced both Marshall and Ira on either side of him with their heads down, as Peyton walked in from the back door of the car. They all looked to Wild Card, begging for someone to guide them away from the Wichita darkness. When old man Cass knew, he could only lead them out of the frying pan and into the fire; he could only lead them to one place. He knew it was not just the train tracks that were taking them to Dodge, but a combination of all their destinies, an intricate thread known as fate.
Peyton stretched out his hands on the post of both Marshall and Ira's booths, giving the room sentient symmetry. Wild Card looked at them. ‘Christ,’ he thought, ‘They were still so young...so naive.’
The train shook.
Ira and Peyton stepped outside, followed by Marshall and Wild Card out the other door. The train was taking a stiff turn around a cliff. From the ridge above, three dark figures jumped onto one of the open train cars. They got to the explosives and lit them. Gunshots sounded off from the infantry cars. Peyton strapped his gun belt on. Ira locked and loaded his modified rifle with one of Kid Colt's dragoons tucked in his belt behind him.
Marshall loaded the Winchester and re-tightened his belt, while Wild Card had already climbed up and over the first ammo car. The other three followed him and they ran on the roof of the train. The rails finally led them down off the hill, and a set of signal lights raced towards them. Wild Card jumped down and Ira followed grabbing Marshall, as Peyton leapt into the air and cleared the lights. He landed and slipped down after them. When they got into the infantry room the soldiers were all racing to the car up ahead.
They rushed along with the troops. The next car was being held down by three Pawnee gang members dressed in black. The troops desperately fired their muskets, eventually putting them down just as Ira arrived as first in command. From behind the crowd around the dead bodies, Peyton could see smoke rising from the next car. It was not a fire, the smoke was too small. Peyton and Marshall made their way to the next car. As they got out of the door it was clear the smoke was coming from multiple fuses.
"RUN!" Peyton yelled at him. "IRA! RUN!"
Marshall and Ira ran past Peyton as he went back for Wild Card. He got the old man and told the soldiers the dynamite had been lit. Peyton and Wild Card ran back to the explosives where Marshall and Ira were trying to put the fuses out, trying and failing.
"JUST GO!" they yelled.
Some soldiers followed them across the car to the front. Marshall and Wild Card jumped with Ira right behind them and made it to the infirmary car. As other soldiers jumped across, Peyton unlatched the pin holding the two cars together: a bold, merciless move. He jumped across with one last soldier as the rest fell back with the dynamite. But it was too late. All of the explosives on the car went up in a massive burst of fire and shrapnel. It threw the back cars asunder and fractured one of the tracks. So much for the brand new railroad line. The crack rode down along the train tracks, chasing what was left of the train going to Dodge.