The train began to slow as it approached the Beaumont station. A wooden, utilitarian structure, the station served its purpose and not much more. The arrival of the rail network in Beaumont was relatively recent, and the modest building housed the ticket office, a waiting area, and a bathroom. The platform was little more than a pile of gravel, with a small overhang extending from the building that didn’t quite provide enough cover.

A ripple of excitement passed through the passengers as those on the station side peered out the windows, pointing at something on the platform. Their murmurs and curiosity quickly spread, drawing others to the windows. Naturally, this concerned Thomas, who pushed his way through the crowd to see what was causing the commotion.

On the platform, twelve men stood in what Thomas thought were frankly ridiculous uniforms. They wore dark blue double-breasted jackets with red piping, gray trousers, leather boots, shiny belt buckles, and topped it all off with black and gold helmets adorned with tiny spikes. Although Thomas wasn’t a military man, he felt confident in assuming this was a squad from the Pruss army.

At the head of the group stood their commanding officer, easily identifiable by his slightly better tailored uniform, the sword hanging at his side, and a larger spike on his helmet. Thomas couldn’t discern the man’s exact rank, but judging by the elaborate epaulets, the officer was clearly high up the chain of command.

What worried Thomas most was that the squad was heavily armed, openly carrying bolt-action rifles. On his own, he would have felt confident in picking the men off one by one. Despite their numbers and armament, a train yard offered ample opportunity for the kind of ungentlemanly tactics he had honed as a former gang enforcer—the sort of tricks that honorable soldiers would never stoop to.

However, Mr. Liu complicated things. In a direct confrontation with highly trained and well-armed men, Thomas couldn’t ensure Mr. Liu’s safety. That left only one option: running and hiding. Grabbing Mr. Liu by the arm, he pulled him to his feet and hurried him toward the rear of the train, passing through three additional carriages before reaching the caboose. Once there, they slipped out onto the small platform at the back, which was ringed by a handrail and had a ladder leading up to the roof and the observation cupola.

Thomas quickly climbed the ladder and signaled for Mr. Liu to follow. Crouching low, they moved toward the cupola—a raised section of the roof encircled by windows, used by the crew to monitor the length of the train. Pressing themselves flat against it, they hoped this position would keep them out of sight from anyone on the platform or inside the train. However, if someone climbed up into the cupola, they would be easily spotted.

Peeking over the edge of the roof, Thomas saw six members of the Pruss squad forcing their way into the train. Cries of alarm echoed as the soldiers began their search. The remaining men stayed on the platform, rifles ready. The yells and complaints of the passengers gradually moved down the train, indicating the progress of the search. The men on the platform followed the commotion, making it clear where the soldiers were.

As the search drew nearer to the caboose, Thomas’s concern grew. They were at risk of being spotted, either by the men on the platform or if someone climbed into the cupola. With few options available, Thomas did the only thing he could think of. Grabbing the small guide rail that ran along the roof of the caboose, he lowered himself down, hanging on the side of the carriage furthest from the platform. Mr. Liu hesitated but complied after a stern look from Thomas.

Dangling against the side of the train, they could hear the heavy boots of the soldiers stomping down the aisles and the sounds of carriages being ransacked. A bead of sweat formed on Mr. Liu’s brow; the scholarly man was clearly not accustomed to physical exertion. As his grip began to slip, Thomas saw a spiked helmet appear in the observation cupola above them.

The seconds dragged on as the Pruss soldier surveyed the area. Meanwhile, Mr. Liu’s grip faltered, and just before he lost his hold, Thomas grabbed the frail man by the jacket, now supporting both their weights with one arm. His forearm muscles burned from the strain.

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

Thomas wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on and racked his brain for a way to get them back on the train without being seen if they fell. Before his strength gave out, the soldier in the cupola called out, "Ich sehe nichts!"

Thomas feared they had been spotted until another soldier shouted, “Okay, lass uns zurückmelden!”

The man in the cupola disappeared, and the sound of boots retreating up the train could be heard. Thomas’s muscles were screaming in agony, but he managed to hoist Mr. Liu high enough for him to hook his elbows onto the roof. Thomas pulled himself up and helped Mr. Liu the rest of the way before collapsing to catch his breath, giving his muscles a chance to recover.

As he lay there, the conductor called for passengers to board, and the whistle blew. Slowly, the train began to move again, the familiar rhythmic chugging a relief as they left the soldiers behind and headed toward their next major stop, Houston.

“Da sind sie, oben auf dem Dach!” came a shout from the platform, shattering Thomas’s brief sense of relief.

He rolled onto his stomach and looked down at the passing platform. The soldiers had spotted them and were raising their rifles. Scrambling to his feet, Thomas pulled Mr. Liu to the other side of the cupola just as the first volley of shots hit the caboose. Wood splintered and glass shattered as bullets struck the train. Risking a glance above the cupola, Thomas ducked just in time as another volley was fired. The glass windows that made up most of the cupola provided little protection, sending shards flying toward them. Both men suffered minor cuts, but fortunately, nothing worse.

Peeking again, Thomas saw the commanding officer sprinting toward the departing train. Despite the impracticality of his uniform, the officer’s powerful strides quickly closed the gap. Just as he ran out of platform, the officer leapt, managing to grab hold of the handrail on the caboose’s porch. His boots clipped the railway ties as he hauled himself aboard.

Thomas had watched the whole scene and couldn’t help but feel a bit impressed. So, he almost felt ashamed of what he had to do next. Almost.

Thomas positioned himself just out of sight at the top of the ladder. As the officer’s head appeared over the edge, Thomas noted that the man was much older than he had expected—wrinkled skin, gray hair, and an elaborately groomed mustache. It was truly remarkable that this man had managed to catch up to the train.

The officer’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw Thomas standing above him. The man reached for his sidearm, but before he could draw it, Thomas kicked him square in the chin, sending him tumbling and bouncing onto the tracks below.

Satisfied that the threat had been eliminated, Thomas helped Mr. Liu back into their seats inside the train. Although Thomas was still on edge, Mr Liu immediately retuned to his notes as if nothing had happened. After a moment, he paused, looked up and said thoughtfully, “You... not talking much, yes?”

A bit surprised by the question, Thomas gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

“Yán duō bì shī,” Mr. Liu said, chuckling at Thomas’s confused expression. “More you talk, more you lose,” he explained with a smile before resuming his work.

An unusual feeling struck Thomas—the terribly stoic man found himself unexpectedly understood. Most people assumed Thomas was either mute or too dim-witted to speak, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. While not a genius, Thomas had been smart enough to leverage his skills and opportunities, creating a comfortable life for himself despite growing up in abject poverty after the loss of his father and his mother’s mental health struggles. He had even made enough money to buy his mother the farm she had always dreamed of.

No, Thomas remained silent by choice, for exactly the reason Mr. Liu had just stated. Throughout his life, he had seen people talk themselves into trouble, ruin plans, or give too much away. When he first began speaking less, he quickly realized that talking was often unnecessary. Over time, his silence became second nature. Even Mr. Porter didn’t fully understand, being a rather talkative man himself. But Mr. Liu, this peculiar little man from a distant land, seemed to understand him perfectly. The thought lingered in Thomas’s mind as the train chugged along.

Back at the Beaumont station, the soldiers had gathered around the officer’s body. They whispered among themselves, wondering if the man was dead and urging someone to check. As the most senior soldier bent down to check for a pulse, the officer’s eyes snapped open, and he slapped the soldier’s hand away, causing the rest of the squad to snap to attention.

“Herr Generalmajor, what are your orders?” the senior soldier asked.

“I'm going to kill that bastard!” growled the officer.