CHAPTER 19 - DERAILMENT

AUGUST 9TH, 1865

SANTA FE RR, KS

Ira ran over to Will and Emma along with Marshall, as Wild Card and Peyton pressed on. They called the rest of the soldiers and guards together. "This train must make it to Dodge," ordered Ira. The guards brought them to the last car before the conductor car. It was a gun-cash.

The walls were lined with all different kinds of rifles: Winchesters, Evans, and Henry Repeaters, anything you could think of. The tables that were folded down from the walls were decorated with the most expensive pistols known to man. There were also double barrel and sawed-off shotguns. With all the trademark weapons that have been developed to out-do the musket, one corner of the wall stuck out as the future of warfare. Peyton looked over the shotgun portion of the corner and found something he had never seen before.

It was a semi-automatic shotgun. He picked it up and strapped it around his shoulder and packing his belt with shotgun shells. He took an extra bandoleer and wrapped it around his chest.

Marshall recognized a pistol in the corner from one of the shows back east. He picked it from the wall, released its clip and reloaded it, cocking it back. It was the only one of its kind on the wall. He replaced his sidearm with the semi-auto pistol and mentioned it to no one. Upon surveying the entire room, he returned to the infirmary and started getting Will and Emma mobile.

The crack in the steel acted as if it had a mind of its own. It sporadically raced after the remnants of the train pushing on. Suddenly it got caught by a wheel of the train and snapped off of the braces, loosening all the other wheels. The trees at the bottom of the hill cleared and a wide valley appeared. Out from the fading tree line were about twenty Black Pawnee riders on both sides of the train led by Steel Coat Kildare. Ira pulled the Henry Repeater off the wall and threw it to his brother Will, “Time to fight, Will,” as both him and Marshall walked through the door. Wild Card watched the Pawnee get closer and closer.

Peyton looked around. "Stay down," he continued, "Ira go up and guard the conductor, Will and Marshall shoot your rifles through the windows. We barricade the doors and keep everyone out of this car and the conductor's."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Marshall. Ira hesitated as he regretted not calling the defensive himself. But after thinking about it, he realized his orders would have been the same. He respected Peyton's instinctive command and nodded his head in agreement, making his way over to the front car. Just being posse sharpshooter was enough for Ira. An air of humility soothed his worries temporarily. Peyton threw the loose furniture and tables in front of the door. Ira slipped out as Wild Card and Emma barricaded the back door. Ira was already heard outside, firing his modified. Bullets hit the side of the car.

Emma yelped.

"Stay away from the windows!" Will yelled.

Shattered glass blew in all around them. They ducked in and out of the windows and fired their guns. None of the renegade riders could break through or hit them. That was until the train wheels, now free of their braces, finally came undone. The crack chasing down the tracks consumed the breaking wheels and shook the train off kilter.

The wheels buckled and the three remaining cars toppled over on all different sides, carving into the dirt under the fields. Everyone on the train was thrown off their feet. Will cradled Emma. Marshall braced himself. Wild Card scrambled. Peyton, completely caught off guard, smacked his head against the rolling floor.

When Peyton woke up, he was being dragged by Marshall out of a riverbed. They were both burnt and soaking. Peyton's shotgun rested on his chest. Marshall was breathing heavily over him. Panting and then he shouted "SHOOT!" scaring Peyton into action.

Peyton panicked and grabbed the shotgun, cocking it, and firing wildly. It twitched and unloaded all of the shells into a wooden tooth confederate rebel. Marshall got them out of the water and under a tree. He posted Peyton up against the tree. Peyton felt frozen, holding the empty shotgun in his hands. Marshall cut through Peyton's blood-stained pants with his buck knife. "Jesus, you're all torn up. I don't see any gunshots."

Peyton looked up at Marshall. He did not hide his emotion well. His wet and worn face was covered in worry and fear. "Peyton," Marshall braced him, "Peyton, can you speak?"

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"Yeah, yeah."

"Can you move your legs?"

Ira got to his feet just outside of the conductor's car along the tracks. The train had rolled over a significant amount of Black Pawnee riders. Their squished bodies were buried in the dirt and their dead horses burnt with the carcass of the army-train all around them. It was a grave sight. Ira found his modified lying on the grass, unharmed. He picked it up and looked through the scope. He followed the tracks and the break, through the carnage to the infirmary car. It was down a small ridge and pinned on its crushed side between two large dead trees, full of leaves burning to black. Gunshots blared off around it.

He ran down the ridge. Wild Card sat on top of the car with both hands filled, shooting down at horseless warriors and rebel soldiers that survived the train wreck. Inside the car, Will was shooting out of the window and Emma was reloading both their guns. Even from a distance, Ira could tell none of them were seriously injured.

Ira sneaked around back. Without being noticed, he flanked the remaining gang members approaching the car. From the tree he posted up and projected a three-point-line through his modified. Ira pulled the trigger and the bullet sailed through the first guy's neck, snapping his head back. It continued into the second guy's head, blowing chunks out of the back along with the bullet. And it carried on into the eye of the third and final guy, lodging into what was left of his brain and skull.

Marshall leaned Peyton over and checked his back. "The crash might have broken your spine." He rolled him back over carefully and said nothing. "Well?" Peyton asked, "Doc?"

Marshall did not look at him. He took Peyton's mud drenched boots off and poked his toes with the tip of his knife, "Can you feel that?"

Peyton tried to answer. He wanted to say yes. There had to be some feeling. His voice cracked and he looked away. There was no sensation in his legs. He finally answered in reluctant acceptance, "No, No I can’t feel anything."

The reality of it set in; Peyton looked down at his legs and tried to get up. Nothing below his waste budged. He did not scream. He did not cry. He clenched his legs and tried to rock back and forth. Nausea flooded his gut as Marshall tried to comfort him. The few trees and ridge between the river and the fields stayed quiet. What's left of the enemy had retreated. Peyton pushed himself up on the tree with his hands. He balanced. Marshall scrambled, "You shouldn't-"

Peyton lost balance, stumbled over, and vomited. He fell and rolled back, sliding on the mud and his own bile down into the stream. Marshall rushed in after him and grabbed at Peyton while he flailed around hysterically and choked on the running freshwater. A light shined over them. Peyton stopped and fell limp in Marshall's arms, as if stilled by the light. A portal opened above but Marshall did not notice for Peyton was now unconscious. He got Peyton up over the current, so they were both standing in the running river water.

"He won't be any good in Dodge like that," The voice said.

"Who's there?" Marshall looked up. The light hovering in the sky just above them lowered only to the stranger's feet.

"He needs your help, Marshall."

"How do you know me?" The light lessened and Marshall could see. The traveler's face looked like a mirror. "Are you-"

"I am Raphael"

"What are y-"

"We don't have time for this, Marshall. Do you want to know how to save him?"

Marshall reconsidered his ways and searched for a spontaneous response to curve this chance encounter in his favor. He looked back up and asked, "Why should I save him?"

"He is the key to humanity's salvation."

Ira got his brother and Emma together with Wild Card and went out looking for Marshall and Peyton. They followed the river downstream after scraps from the train wreck. Ira told the rest to hold up as they came across Marshall dunking Peyton's head into the running water. Ira raced over and pushed Marshall off of him. Ira took Peyton and pulled his face clear of water, screaming at Marshall, "Are you mad!?"

Marshall got out of the water and put his hands on his knees, catching his breath, mumbling something about needing to be baptized. Peyton was jolted awake and looked around, he stumbled out of the river with Ira and unlocked his head from Ira's arm. Peyton laughed, he walked away from Ira and jumped up and down.

"YOU DID IT, MARSHALL!"

Ira looked on with the rest of them, utterly bemused.

"YOU GOD DAMN WITCHDOCTOR! YOU DID IT!" Peyton stretched his body over and rubbed his legs. He pulled out his guns, rejuvenated, his beautiful charcoal revolvers. He twirled them around, put on a short show for his company, and re-holstered them. His most loyal tools, nothing meant more to him. He pretended for a second that his luck derived from his guns. Peyton walked through everyone up to Ira and calmly proclaimed, "Can't be far now."