“I’m heading up to that tower bit he just came down- I want to get a lay of the land,” said Julie Matthes once he’d left. Gliridae and Junior, seemingly bonded from the earlier encounter, decided to take a look through the supply boxes and see what they could get from there. In the meantime, Jeremiah and Bill agreed to check out the train itself.

“If we’re lucky, we may be able to affect some of the actual machinery,” mused Jeremiah as they scaled the ladder. “Depending on what we break… the more delicate things could set the project back by a good few weeks at least.”

“That Mallison fellow, though… he’s seen us all now. If we do anything too obvious, he’ll report us to the Silvers. Hell, if we don’t do anything at all he’ll report us to the Silvers too.” Bill grunted below, winded with the effort of pulling his enormous weight up the side of the train.

“Not necessarily; we can tell him that he’ll be hearing from us in the next few days and then just disappear. I wouldn’t put it past him to be too embarrassed to mention anything, especially when things begin to go wrong. He wouldn’t want to take the fall.” Jeremiah knelt down and unscrewed the hatch, glancing between it and Bill.

It was a tight squeeze, but they both managed to get through.

“And I wouldn’t put it past Gliridae to fake arrest someone- do the same thing, pretend to be a Silver and tell them to play along with the arrest,” Jeremiah continued. Bill frowned.

“That mouse is going to catch himself in his own web of lies if he’s not careful.”

“You’ve been saying that this whole time. At this point I have to say he knows what he’s doing.”

The larger man fixed Jeremiah with a steely look.

“He knew what he was doing with whatever small fry he was working with before. How do you think he’d fare in Lockup?”

Jeremiah’s stomach flipped; point taken.

The train’s corridors were narrow but straight, and they were soon in the control room. Looking out, he could see Gliridae unpacking something from the boxes lining one of the platforms, and Junior scurrying up the ladder to where Julie Matthes was. As he watched, the tiny man gave a little jig, waving a package above his head.

“See if you can get a window open somewhere to call out,” he murmured to Bill. “I think they might have found something. I’m going to check out the engine room.”

The engine room was directly below, through a hole that was far too narrow for Bill, and down a short ladder. Carefully lighting a candle, Jeremiah found himself greeted by eight large furnaces, huge casks of coal, what looked to be some very smashable machinery, and several tanks of kerosene.

“Jeremiah, get up here!” Bill rumbled from above. “Gliridae and Junior have found dynamite!”

Jeremiah grinned widely.

**

They moved quickly. Gliridae climbed into the train to manage transfer of goods through the engine room: kerosene out, dynamite in. Jeremiah was the second leg of the operation, and flew the containers between the platform and the window Bill forced open- it was easier and faster than having someone running up and down the ladder. Junior moved to the front of the forge to lockpick and open the gates, while Bill and Julie Matthes poured a thick trail of the kerosene (intended for refilling lamps, as far as Jeremiah could tell) through the train and along the Foundry floor.

“We only have a few minutes before Mallison comes back,” warned Julie as she finished. Jeremiah scooped Gliridae from the top of the train and flew to join her, beckoning Junior and Bill over. His old instincts were kicking in, and it felt fantastic.

“We don’t need a few minutes, we just need an exit plan: when that thing goes, it’s going to go fast and it’s going to go hard. We want to be out of the way. Get back into the corridor and head down as quickly as you can. Basement levels will be best for this. Does anyone remember the way back to the tunnels?” Jeremiah paused and they all shook their heads. “Then let’s see if we can’t exit off a side street or similar. Bill and Junior, you take the lead. Get through obstacles fast, and smash them if you need to -there’s no time for discretion. We’ll follow behind. I’ll take the rear in case anyone decides to open fire.”

“No offense, Jeremiah, but I’m pretty sure I’m faster than you: shouldn’t I stay to light it, and then take the rear?” asked Gliridae. His hat and jacket were folded to one side, his white shirt streaked with dirt. Jeremiah pursed his lips and shook his head.

“If anything goes wrong, I can fly up and handle it a lot faster than you before getting away.”

“If you run too slow you could die,” pressed the smaller man.

“So could you,” Jeremiah snapped back, “and I’m not having any more deaths on my watch.” Bill reached a hand onto his shoulder but Jeremiah brushed him off. “Now all of you: get moving.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“This won’t bring the doctor back,” growled Bill. Jeremiah didn’t say anything, just reached to the table and pulled the candle out of the lamp. “Jeremiah?”

“Go, Bill,” was Jeremiah’s only reply. After a moment’s hesitation, Bill turned, and with Junior began to run. Gliridae and Julie Matthes were hot on their heels.

Jeremiah waited until they reached the door, then waited a moment longer, before crouching and igniting the kerosene trail. It took immediately, the flame shooting across the floor of the foundry and up the drenched rope that they had dangled over the side of the train.

He needed to go. It had taken, and he needed to go.

But something compelled him to stay- he had to make sure this worked- what if it didn’t work and he had to go back?

The flames crackled, blue with heat, and a ghostly pain tugged at the burns across his face and back. The smell of smoke prickled his nose, and in the back of his mind he could hear the phantom clang of the fire bell.

“God damnit Jeremiah, run!” screamed Gliridae’s shrill voice from the doorway, and that was enough to spur him into motion. Spinning on his heel, he began to sprint away. His mind’s eye, however, was still focused on the train.

The flame was racing across the top, down another rope into the corridor, through the corridor and into the control room.

Jeremiah skidded around a corner.

The flame was jumping to a third rope, dropping into the engine room where there lay five boxes of TNT in addition to the remaining kerosene, and three more barrels of oil that Junior had uncovered.

Ahead, Bill ran straight through a door rather than attempt to open it. Jeremiah jumped the splintered wood as he followed.

A single piece of TNT lay right beneath, and if all went right, the flame was moving from the rope to the wick. The flame was burning its way down. The flame was reaching the dynamite.

There was silence as they ran. Dread settled into Jeremiah’s stomach: it hadn’t worked.

Bill knocked down a second door, and Junior a third, but at the final door they paused, gasping for breath.

“Did it-“ began Junior.

The sonic blast which tore through the tunnel was enough to force them through the door and then some. Jeremiah had never felt such a thin line between his insides and his outsides. Sprawled on the ground, it was hard to tell up from down; everything seemed fuzzy, and any coherent thoughts were smothered by the ringing in his head.

Suddenly Gliridae was by his side, lips moving. Jeremiah shook his head, dazed, but Gliridae’s hands were grabbing at him, tugging him upwards. Behind him, Jeremiah could see Bill on his hands and knees, and Junior helping a shaky Julie Matthes to her feet.

Run Gliridae was mouthing. Run? Jeremiah wasn’t even sure if he could stand without puking, let alone move with any kind of speed. Blood was leaking from the tiny musician’s ears; Jeremiah felt as though his own were filled with cotton wool. He tried to haul himself upright, and immediately staggered sideway into the wall. Shaking his head to Gliridae, he copied Bill, crawling on his hands and knees in the direction they had been running.

Luckily, any doors that would have stood in their way seemed to have been blasted off their hinges.

After a corridor or two, he managed to stagger upright, feeling for all the world as though he’d gotten blackout drunk and fallen from a window. Something warm and wet sat against his neck and he realised that his ears were also bleeding. Next to him, Junior had Julie Matthes slung over his shoulders- she didn’t seem to be capable of walking independently, and the spittle dangling from her lips suggested she’d thrown up. Up ahead Gliridae was nearly buckling under the weight of Bill leaning on him, the musician using the wall as a counterweight.

They made slow progress, following emergency exit signs until they spilled out of the Foundry and into the road. Around them, there was visual chaos- people screaming and crying and running in different directions, and the dull glow of a fire in the distance. The noise of it all was drowned out by an incessant whine, worse than any fire bells: Jeremiah looked for the source, only to realise that it was internal, a screaming echo of the blast reverberating through his being. Looking to his friends, he could see the same realisation dawning.

The road ran adjacent to the side of the building that held the forge. At a gesture from Julie Matthes they headed into an apartment building- all the doors were flung open, so there was no issue getting in as the occupants streamed out- and made their unsteady way up to the roof. It was slow going, with each one of them stopping to puke at various points. Bill nearly tumbled over the railings at one point, and the rush of movement to catch him sent Jeremiah rolling back down half a flight. It was okay- there was nothing left for him to bruise.

Finally they reached the top and staggered back into the night. They carefully crept to the edge, mindful of their lack of balance, and looked out over the city. It took a long moment for Jeremiah to comprehend what he was seeing.

They’d certainly wreaked havoc.

It seemed that the force of the blast hadn’t just destroyed the train or even the Foundry. The combined explosive potential of kerosene, oil and dynamite had effectively converted the train into a rocket. The explosion had channelled down the length of the machine, and launched it straight through the ceiling of the forge, rather than through the open gates. The train had been propelled halfway across the city before crashing into the warehouses of the industrial estate, where they could see it continuing to flame and sputter amongst the rubble. Meanwhile, another fire was slowly spreading through the Foundry, with the evacuated employees scrambling to put it out.

Well thought Jeremiah at least Mallison can blame the gas leak. He sincerely hoped that no one had been working in the warehouses at that hour.

They stood there for another few minutes, taking in the carnage. Jeremiah didn’t need to be able to hear to know that Bill’s lips were muttering a drawn-out Aw, hell as he watched one of the Foundry walls collapse inwards. Slowly the off-balance seasick feeling faded, though he still couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. Gliridae passed over a red-stained pocket square; at Jeremiah’s questioning look, he gestured to the blood running from all their ears. Jeremiah nodded his understanding, and gratefully wiped the now-flaking blood away.

Finally, when she no longer seemed on the verge of being sick again, Julie Matthes pulled out a notepad and scribbled out a message.

We need to get out and regroup. Silvers will be… occupied. Cantankerous?

Jeremiah shook his head and grabbed the pen.

Boiler Room. Just in case. Also, Cantankerous is not too far from being on fire.

She peered over the city again and frowned when she saw the truth of this statement. Chest rising in a sigh, she gestured for Jeremiah to lead the way.

Taking one final look at the havoc below, they dispersed.