Chapter 18

Rebecca Carter

April

On a train bound for Edinburgh, Rebecca Carter sipped a lowball of scotch. She gazed out the window in contemplation. The fading sunset left lingering traces of luminous pink cloud over the dark landscape as it slid by. Her faint smile became a grimace. That pink color. It reminded her of that damned stuff Riley made. The stuff that had scarred and nearly killed Kaitlyn. The stuff that had essentially ended their marriage several years ago.

She needed to talk to him. It had been a while. He was just so damn smug . He acted as though nothing had happened between them, as though the divorce had reset their relationship to back before they had been married. Maybe that was actually how he thought of it. Rebecca closed her eyes and drew another long sip of whiskey. God . What had ever made her think marrying that man was a good idea? Was it the promise of adventure? Had she been that naïve?

Maybe it had been the influence of her step-brother, Kaitlyn’s father, Riley’s best friend. Nicholas Carter. He and Riley had been two sides of the same coin, the theorist and the inventor. Then: Nick’s death. The divorce. Kaitlyn.

Rebecca shook her head and turned her gaze down to the amber liquid trembling in her glass. It shivered with the reflected lights of the train cab. Science . Science could go soak its head. Kaitlyn got it from them, her father and uncle. It had already nearly killed her. That was one of the things she needed to ask Riley. Another one, maybe the most important one: what did he have to do with October Industries?

All of this thinking made her dizzy. She wasn’t her brother; she wasn’t Kaitlyn. She wasn’t made for puzzling things out. She was made for doing .

She needed another drink.

She sat in the lounge car, an uncomfortably warm, bright room, so it was a short trip for a refill of whiskey. People held quiet conversations, laughter occasionally ringing out over the muttering. It smelled like cologne—whether expensive or cheap Rebecca Carter had no idea. Either way, she disliked the place. She would rather be out there, in the cold and darkness passing by outside the window. She preferred to drink outside.

Her phone buzzed as she sat back down. Alan Sheppard. Now there was a man of action. She answered the call. Alan spoke at once, right to business as always. “Rebecca? I just learned that OI may be targeting you and Kaitlyn. I suggest laying low.”

Hrm. Targeting? Alan had told her that the October Industries’ manufacturing and research business was merely a façade. “What do you mean, ‘targeting?’”

“I’m not sure. But they have some interest in the two of you.”

“Of course they do, dear. We’re close to Riley. He’s the cause of all this, mark me.” Rebecca swirled the drink in her glass, seeing memories.

“I’ll make sure to ask. I’m meeting him soon.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you there. Together we might force him to answer some questions.”

“Here’s a question: have you heard of a scientist named Nikola Raschez? Has McFinn ever said anything about him?”

“Dear, I am literally surrounded by scientists. My whole adult life. It’s been horrible, Alan. Why could I not have a family of something sensible, such as game wardens? Bounty hunters? Or perhaps special agents, such as yourself, Alan.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Mildly, dear. Mildly.”

“Nikola Raschez in charge of OI. They’re planning something big. I think Kaitlyn is important to them, and they may try to get rid of her.”

Rebecca felt cold for a moment. Get rid of Kaitlyn? If true, it proved that Riley had nothing to do with this.

Also, if true, it meant Rebecca would take the next transfer directly back home. Her glass clinked on the laminated surface of the table in front of her. Damn, empty already?

“Rebecca?”

“You know, Alan, this reminds me of the time I met a musician in Pakistan. Made the most excellent moussaka. But she was in debt to a local band of ruffians.”

“I don’t mind hearing another story,” said Alan, and she could hear him smile, “but how does this relate to Kaitlyn?”

“Well it’s a long story, but the upshot is that that is when I decided that I shall never bear children, dear. Yet here I am.”

“Kaitlyn isn’t a child,” Alan observed.

“Oh, but she was. She was when her father died and left her to me. And I, Alan Sheppard, I was out of my depth. I gave it an effort, you know. I read some books. But there aren’t any books that tell you what to do when your child constructs a device that turns the metal parts of an automobile to liquid without heating them up. And what am I to say when she wakes me up at two in the morning with nightmares about the inevitable heat death of the universe?” She took a long sip, lost in the memories. “She makes me feel old, Alan. She has too much energy. And her laboratory. It gives me the spooks, Alan. She has butterflies on her laser guns.”

Alan laughed on the other end, a marvelous sound. “I can understand some of that. I’ve had Heidi since she was eight. I’ve been guessing the whole way through. I’m no father. I’m worried that…I just want her to be able to take care of herself.”

“Nonsense, Alan. From what I hear, you’ve done a bang-up job.”

“We should meet up. Trade notes.”

“That sounds lovely. I’ll give Riley a call. Do let me know if you learn anything more.”

“Will do. Good luck. And be careful.”

“Of course, dear.”

She put the phone down and tried to focus out the window. It was all dark out there now. Spark-lights slid by in the distance, giving a sense of motion in the otherwise empty void. She would trust Alan. If Kate might be in danger…

Riley. No delaying it any longer; she needed to talk to Riley. He would help. He would protect Kaitlyn. He might send his drones or robots or some such nonsense, but he would do it. With a sigh she dialed his number and held the phone to her ear. She noticed sweat on her forehead. Well, after all, it was so warm . Couldn’t they spare a bit of air conditioning?

Riley did not answer. Rebecca put the phone down on the table, maybe a little too hard, and reached into the bag at her feet. After maybe a bit more rummaging around than it ought to have taken, she managed to retrieve a small velvet box, like a ring case. Something rattled around inside. She popped it open and took a look. A dime-sized piece of McFinnium rested within. Red and spiky, like fire frozen in place. The stuff had different colors, different shapes. Light danced within the crystal as though refracted from an unseen source. It was dangerous. No chance in hell was Rebecca just giving this to her niece when asked.

Something bumped against her legs below the table, causing her to snap the ring box shut. It made a sound loud enough that several others in the lounge car glanced at her.

“What the...” Rebecca angled herself to peer below the table just as something large, white, and furry pounced up onto the seat beside her. The eyeless white lynx meowed, causing everyone to glance at her again. What was this cat’s name? Kelly? Carrie? She had seen it around, playing with Kaitlyn. What the hell was it doing here?

“Excuse me, miss,” said a waiter who appeared beside her as if by magic. “No pets are allowed in the cabins.”

“Oh, it’s not mine,” she said. “Shoo.” She nudged the cat off the seat beside her. “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue where it came from.”

She turned back to her empty glass, leaving the puzzled employee to deal with the cat. She popped the ring case open for another look. She had never really found out what the McFinnium did . It was some kind of battery? Not exactly radioactive, but definitely explosive.

“My, what’s that?” asked the waiter, again at her side.

Rebecca Carter snapped the case shut again and tucked it away in her many-pocketed vest. She turned to face the man. “Don’t you have better things to do? Where’s that cat?”

The waiter looked around. “It, er, slipped away. In any case! Can I offer you a refill, madam?”

Ah! Someone on this train had manners, at least. “Certainly.” She raised her empty glass. The man took it and went to the bar without asking what she’d like. Observant. Good waiter.

Except. She thought there weren’t any waiters on this train? That was why she had to go get the past few refills herself. Hrm. Rebecca Carter had a sixth sense for danger, and it began tingling. It had saved her life more than once, such as for example when she had turned on a whim while hiking in India, just in time to see the tiger who had given her the scars on her face behind her and about to pounce. This was the same feeling she’d had then.

Or was it just whiskey and paranoia? Hrm.

The waiter returned with her glass, and Rebecca watched him closely. Time to play up the inebriation. Which, honestly, required little playing up. “What a gentleman,” she said, slipping into a slurred voice as she reached for the glass. (Whadda gennelman.)

Up close she saw a short-wave radio transmitter at his belt. His belt? It contained a few mysterious un-waiterly items. She spilled just a bit of the whiskey onto the floor. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she said as she leaned down to get a look at his footwear. This waiter wore combat boots, sticking out from beneath his cotton pants.

She righted herself in her seat, looked the smiling man dead in the eyes, and said, “October Industries.”

His smile froze in place. His eyes widened. His whole body stiffened.

Damn it.

She still waited for him to make a move, because it just wouldn’t do to beat up waiters on a train based on drunken paranoia. It was only when he reached around behind himself for a firearm that Rebecca struck. The heel of her right hand connected with the man’s face; she felt the cartilage of his nose crunch under the force. The blow dazed him. Rebecca held him steady with her left hand, stood up, and helped him back down into the seat she had just vacated. She grabbed her broad-brimmed leather hat and crammed it onto her head.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Think. Think! What a time to be drunk.

She took the radio, the gun he had been reaching for, and her bag under the table. She turned and strode toward the rear of the train, back to her assigned seat where the rest of her luggage was. Presumably. She scanned the lounge car as she went. It seemed that no one had noticed? No, the actual, real waiter at the bar had noticed. He was a young man, and gaped at her as she walked past. He had one hand on the phone by the bar, but he was clearly unsure what he ought to do in this situation. Rebecca ignored him.

Her car was how many cabins back? Four? Five? What she really needed was to get off this train. Was there anything vital in her luggage? Not really.

McFinn. Damn it. The man back there had been reaching for his gun. In a train! Damn it. She felt hungover already. What a mess.

The radio she had taken beeped as she passed into the next car—the dining car. It was half-full. She didn’t see anyone particularly suspicious, although nearly everyone present gave her a second glance. With the leather hat, the scar, the long leather coat and the rucksack, she attracted attention.

She made her way unsteadily through the meal car without incident. The next car was a sleeper: a narrow hallway with the cabins on the right and windows on the left. Lights flashed by outside. The train must be in or nearing a town. This was confirmed when it began to slow down. Would it stop? If so, this was her chance. The radio beeped again. Why wasn’t she hearing anything else? Did she need an earpiece? Had the waiter been wearing one? She couldn’t remember. She was getting a headache.

She leaned against the wall and gazed out the window. Alone in the hallway for now. Ok. So. She would—

“Please don’t move, Ms. Carter,” said a voice behind her. Something hard pressed against her upper back. The gun she’d tucked behind her coat was swiftly removed. A radio beeped. “Got her,” said the man behind her. “Car 13. Yeah. No word on the girl.”

Rebecca gritted her teeth. What did they want with Kaitlyn? It must be something to do with that damned McFinnium. Damn Riley for making it, damn him for getting Kaitlyn involved with this. And damn whatever the hell kind of sinister bullshit comprised October Industries.

Years of adventure had trained Rebecca Carter’s reflexes. Even Drunk Rebecca Carter could go from motionless to full speed in a startlingly short time. She spun on her heel, using the walls of the narrow hallway to lend her leverage, and struck with an elbow at the man behind her. He dodged backward; the gun discharged and Rebecca felt a tug on her jacket as the bullet narrowly missed her ribs. She tackled the man against the wall.

The gun hit the floor. A brief flurry of wild blows later, an unconscious man joined it. People nearby screamed. A gun discharging in the train. She didn’t want to be involved with this. She hadn’t noticed in the fight, but the train was picking up speed again. Not stopping. But maybe still slow enough to jump off.

She took one of the two firearms on the floor. Both were semi-automatic. She preferred revolvers. More reliable. She heard shouting behind her as she began to stand. She turned, and fell to the ground just as two men opened fire. So loud! The hangover wasn’t supposed to come until later .

She returned fire from her position on the floor. Drunk Rebecca Carter had arguably even better aim than Sober Rebecca Carter. Both men reeled.

Rebecca scrambled to her feet and, using the support of the narrow walls, launched herself back down the hall and at the door to the dining car. Off the train. Get off the train.

She stuffed her right hand with the gun in her pocket as the door to the dining car slid open. Everyone in the car was looking in her direction; some were panicking. Of course. They had heard the gunshots. Two men stood in the center, keeping order by their presence. They both wore grey trench coats. They both held mechanical devices in their right hands that Rebecca had never seen before, and both of these were aimed at her. They weren’t just devices. They were some kind of weapon that enveloped the hand, the arm, and were connected by wiring to something on the back.

A staredown occurred. For nearly five seconds she and the two men watched each other, ready to take action in an instant. Rebecca’s grip tightened on the gun in her pocket, but she didn’t dare attempt to draw. A strained silence descended upon the car, broken by the sound of the train running, a child crying, and shouts from behind Rebecca in the car she had come from. And a meow.

“Rebecca Carter,” said one of the men when it was clear she would not immediately attack them. “You will come with us.”

“What do you want with Kaitlyn?” she asked. She tried to be intimidating, but the train swayed as she spoke and she had to lean against one of the booths in order to remain upright.

The two men glanced at each other, and Rebecca didn’t like the looks they gave. The hell with it. She wasn’t going with these men, and neither was Kaitlyn. She’d see to that. But she wasn’t going to get into a firefight in the middle of a populated train car either. At any minute the door behind her would slide open and one of the ones she shot earlier would come through to trap her from behind. When that happened…

One of the men in the grey coats shook his head, and without taking his eyes off her he swung the weapon on his arm at a nearby table. The family sitting there recoiled in fear. The mother began to silently cry. “Casualties are inconvenient,” he said, “but if this motivation is requisite to make you comply…” The device covering his hand and forearm, a cluster of wires and silver metal, came to life with a faint hum.

The other man now spoke. “We will not hesitate to—”

The door at the other end of the dining car opened. The two men blocked her view so she couldn’t see who entered, but a man said, “What is going on here?”

The grey-coated man who had threatened the family turned to see the newcomer. Rebecca couldn’t see what happened next, but she saw the flash of light, felt the whole car vibrate as if with some impact, and heard the screams of people down at the other end of the car. She tensed, ready to move, but the other grey-coated man never removed her from his sights.

She became aware that part of her vest was vibrating, rather violently. The man still facing her was looking with consternation at the weapon on his arm. The weapon was vibrating too, the dangerous end of it shaking.

“Did you check for resonance?” he demanded of his companion.

The other turned, allowing Rebecca to catch a glimpse of the bloody scene at the other end of the car. This one looked at his own weapon with fear. “It can’t be! There’s no unstable…” Then he looked at her, his eyes wide.

Crystal? Resonance? Think, Rebecca, think ! What had Kaitlyn told her about this? She’d never listened much to any of this. She didn’t know what was happening, but she thought she at least knew why. Without taking her eyes off the increasingly distressed men before her, she carefully reached into her vest with her left hand and found the source of the mounting vibration therein. It was the ring case, of course, and it shook so badly she could barely get a hold of it.

She withdrew it from the bag, and the two men watched in fear as she barely managed to maintain a hold on it. It was like grasping a jackhammer in full swing.

“Shit! Shit!” said one of the men. “Get rid of it! Hurry!”

“No choice,” said the more level-headed one on the left. He re-aimed his weapon at Rebecca. His whole arm, encased in the weapon, now quivered erratically as though in seizure. But it didn’t stop him from shooting her.

Rebecca saw a flash of light and felt a sudden shift: in temperature, in air pressure, in gravity. Wind roared in her ears—cold wind. She saw only darkness. Her chest and head struck hard plastic, and she felt herself beginning to slide, falling to one side.

Not dead? Well then, first things first: do not fall. She groaned and desperately groped with her hands. One of them found an irregularity in the cold smooth surface. She seized it and once again opened her eyes in an attempt to make sense out of what had happened.

An explosion sounded nearby. She looked in that direction just in time to see the flash of light. The surface below her shivered with the impact.

She saw lights sliding past in the darkness. She felt the regular shaking of the train beneath her. The train. She was on top of it. But how? Rebecca Carter secured her hold on the object, some kind of vent, and knelt upright. The wind was cold but not quite strong enough to push her off. As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she saw that she was nearer to the front of the train. The explosion had come from a half dozen cars behind. Probably the dining car.

She checked herself. She appeared to be unharmed. She still had her leather coat, with the firearm, and her hat was flapping in the wind behind her, held by the leather cord around her throat. But her pack was gone. Instead, at her side sat the white eyeless lynx, licking itself contentedly, undisturbed by its location atop a train roaring through the English night. Kelly. Or whatever. Now she remembered. Kate had said something about this cat belonging to Elizabeth, one of her adorable friends in America.

Rebecca also still had her phone. She sat with her back to the front of the train, against the wind, and dialed Riley’s number. He had better answer this time. She gazed into the receding abyss of lights as it rang. Smoke billowed from the site of the explosion, and she could faintly hear shouts and screams. She should go help. Soon. The train ought to be stopping. It should, she was fairly sure, but it didn’t seem to even be slowing down. Had October Industries commandeered the whole train?

“Rebecca,” said the calm, confident voice of Riley McFinn. “Where are you?”

“On a train.”

“Are you drunk?” How the hell could he tell she was drunk after three short words? “No.” Oh, right. He had been married to her. He knew that if she was on a train she was probably drunk.

“I see. What’s that sound? Is that wind?”

“Yes.” And it was doing wonders to clear her head.

“If this is about Alan Sheppard, I will be meeting him soon.”

“If you hurt Alan, Riley, I swear to God when I see you…”

“I understand. Alan Sheppard will leave Scotland unharmed. Good enough?”

“No, I have another question. Are you working for October Industries?”

“Wrong question, Carter,” he said.

“Answer it anyway,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No, Rebecca, I am not working for October Industries.”

“They are using your technology. Your McFinnium.”

“I am aware of this.”

“My train was just attacked by October Industries. No doubt you’ll read about the explosion on the news. Alan warned me about this, and he warned me about you.”

“I know all of this. Are you still on your way up here?”

“I was. But they’re after Kaitlyn, so I’m heading back. I hope I’m not too late.”

“Rebecca, Kaitlyn is in London. Waiting for a flight to Chicago.”

“What?”

“I thought you knew. She’s safe for now. It’s a good thing that she’s going to Chicago. Her friends are there.”

“Hrm. Then—hold a moment.” A figure emerged off to her right, climbing up onto the top of the train. She moved up into a crouch and approached the intruder. It was too dark to make out any detail, but she heard the clang of a firearm against the synthetic surface of the train-top. Her boot slammed into his face, and with a grunt of surprise and pain he disappeared back into the passing darkness.

“I’ll have to go soon, Riley. I’m near the border but…ow. No promises on when I’ll arrive.”

“I understand. Be careful not to pass out on top of the train.”

“If anything happens to Kaitlyn, Riley, I am blaming you.”

“…I understand. Focus, Rebecca.”

“You too.” She closed the call just as she became aware of another figure making its way onto the train on the other side. “Focus” was Riley’s way of saying “good luck.” Because he didn’t believe in luck. And because he was a melodramatic ass.

Rebecca leapt to the other side of the train, slide-tackling the man who had just made it to the top. She heaved him off of her and over the side, and managed to get a grip on another feature protruding from the train-top before she joined him.

She crouched low against the wind and gazed ahead. More of them near the front of the train, making their way back, stooped low. How many of these bastards were on the train? Was this party all for her? Rebecca Carter gritted her teeth, against the frigid wind and the throbbing headache building behind her watering eyes.

Something touched her leg, and she jerked to the side before realizing it was the lynx. The magic cat. She reached down, grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, and hauled it up to her face. “You take care of Kaitlyn,” she shouted at it. “Now get out of here!” She heaved the cat right off the edge of the train. It disappeared silently into the rushing night. It would be fine.

She looked ahead once more. She still had the gun in her pocket. She carefully crouched against the wind, her leather jacket trailing behind her. With one hand she retrieved the firearm, and with the other she reached back, seized her leather hat, and slapped it onto her head.

October Industries would regret tangling with Drunk Rebecca Carter. She stepped forward into the howling dark.