Chapter 20

“You’re going to get me shot again,” Horse said as we rode ahead.

Bear and I were about a mile east of Saint Emile and sitting on our horses. We were off the tracks and facing the water. I wondered at the odd beauty of this digitally recreated sight. Were they convincing my perceptions to fill in the gaps and make it look this real, or was this just a work of art? Realism in an entirely digital fallacy?

Weird.

Our horses were backed up against a hill with trees around us. Unless they were paying exceptionally close attention, nobody on the train would see us until it was too late.

The good doctor, Mr. Coot, was walking the docks of Saint Emile as nonchalantly as he could and reporting back on numbers. Specifically, he was reporting back on the number of law enforcement on the train. We only cared about the ones on the train.

The plan was fairly simple in design and would only hit snags as we implemented it. We were to jump on the train, something that Bear was too excited for, whereas I was nervous as hell about it. We needed to jump on in about the same spot, otherwise, we would be separated and too easily overwhelmed. Once on board, we would fight and kill until we got to the car with the money.

The train could not be allowed to stop.

Coot had made that part of the plan mandatory. Once Coot activated the mission by stepping into the yellow zone on the map in Saint Emile, the train would take off. If there were any issues on the train, like three idiots trying to rob it, every law enforcer would get on a horse and head down the tracks to try and assist. As long as the train was moving, the chance of them catching us was non-existent, but the moment the train stopped we would be swarmed.

We also needed to be off the train before it made it to the next town for the same reason. The next town going east on the tracks was Hardy, so we had a general idea of how much time we had. It wasn’t too much, but enough to get the job done, we hoped.

“In the last week,” I said, “I’ve been shot more than I had in my entire life.” Bear gave me a sidelong look. “So, shut up and deal with it. I’ll get you an apple for every time you’re shot.”

“I can’t eat apples if I’m dead,” Horse harrumphed.

“I saw candies in the pawn shop,” I patted Horse on his mane. “If you die, I’ll get you a couple bags.”

“Its so weird your horse talks,” Bear said.

“Not as weird as you think,” I shrugged at the idea. “According to Horse, it’s about twenty percent of the horses in game that are inhabited by retired players.”

Bear shook his head. “I’ll have to find one and see if it wants to work with me. You have access to someone who’s had to deal with anything and everything between now and level 250. No wonder you never feel the need to read the manual.”

Horse preened at the compliment, lifting his head to nuzzle Bear’s leg.

D0C70RC007: Final count is 27 on the train, not including the conductor. Are you ready for me to start it?

Sammy#0421: Bring it on!

A loud and dramatic tune played in my head before slowly fading out. When the music vanished completely, my map showed the yellow lines disappear and a big red X in Saint Emile started moving our direction.

I checked over my weapons. As much as I wanted to use my Bolt Action Rifle some more, but a rifle on close-quarters train fight didn’t make much sense. I made sure both of my Farmer’s Pistols were loaded and placed them back in their holsters. The two pistols, the rifle, and my shotgun made me a walking and riding force to be reckoned with. Or at least I hoped so.

Bear started loading some red bullets into his one sawed-off shotgun and holstered it.

“What were those?” I asked.

“Explosive rounds,” he explained. “I only have eight. I figure I’ll use my pistol and my knife until things get nuts, and save the shotgun as a get-out-of-the-shit-free card.”

I nodded, jealous for explosive rounds, but also certain that if I had explosive rounds I would likely blow my arm off.

A train whistle went off in the distance.

“Ready?” I asked as I rolled up my sleeve.

“Ready.”

I checked the map again to see where the train was and where Coot was. He was keeping his pace a steady distance behind the train.

“We join Coot when he passes us. Then we board the back of the train,” I repeated the plan one last time, mostly for my own benefit.

My fingers found the tattooed button on my arm, and pressed it.

Here we go.

When the train was finally visible, Bear tossed me a bottle.

“Save that for when you’re really hurt,” he said. “Otherwise, use your own supplies.”

I nodded as the train passed us. The conductor didn’t even look at us. Through the gaps, I could see a handful of the law enforcement guys scattered across the train.

We had discussed using the dynamite and trying to clear the train out while riding beside it, but I was worried that we would need it for the raid in Easter. There was no guarantee that we would have enough time after the train robbery to get supplies and get to Easter in time. Less so if we died during the robbery.

The ass of the train went past Bear and I and then we saw Coot racing toward us on Sandra. He stood up in his saddle as he passed us. Bear and I spurred our horses and were right behind him.

Our approach didn’t go unnoticed. The caboose wasn’t actually a traditional caboose. Instead, it was an open platform with stacks of some sort of goods packed away in crates that were tied down. This was great for our jumping onto the train. We wouldn’t need to aim for a small door.

It wasn’t that great for getting on the train without getting shot. Four lawmen were on the back. One of them saw us and smacked his neighbor. They all turned and raised their guns.

My boys needed cover.

“Keep riding,” I yelled at Horse. “Do not slow down!”

Horse actually sped up and I started to pass Coot while Bear urged his horse along the side of the train.

I guess my Bolt Action was going to get in on the fun anyway.

I drew my rifle and steadied myself as much as I could, for what it was worth. Shooting while riding on a horse at full gallop was one of those things that my mind told me should be difficult, but this world made it incredibly easy with the aim-assist.

Bullets whizzed by us as I took aim at the closest lawman and fired. I wasn’t going to try and take time to make headshots when what I really needed was to distract these men long enough for the Flamingos to board.

The first shot tore through the lawman’s gut. He was bleeding out, but still firing. I decided to ignore him and move onto the next one. He dove behind one of the crates as I fired and missed. He wasn’t worth it, so I shifted aim to the third. At this point, a fifth had come from the car beyond this one and was firing wildly at us.

Bear placed a leg on the seat of his saddle and kicked off. He launched his large mass at the train and hit the floor of the platform with enough force that I felt my own bones rattle.

He wasted no time. Jumping to his feet, Bear slammed his knife into the neck of the lawman that was still bleeding out before he stepped toward the one behind the crate and kicked him in the shoulder. The lawman toppled back and over the side of the platform, rolling away and down the hill.

Coot and Sandra barely missed him.

Coot was next. He did the same thing as Bear, placing one foot on the saddle and jumping. I figured that had to be the default animation for jumping onto a train, but it was a thought in the back of my mind. Bear had already grabbed the next guy, thrust his knife into the man’s belly and was walking him backward, as a shield for Coot to get to his feet.

When Coot was up and firing his Volcanic Pistol, I slung the rifle onto my back and directed Horse to follow up on Coot’s side of the train.

As we closed the gap, I was impressed with the efficiency of my boys. In the last few days, we had gone from a clumsy group of newbies trying to survive walking through a generally peaceful town to an efficient group robbing a train. Even if we lost this mission, I was impressed.

“Jump,” Horse shouted.

I looked at the train and fear took me over.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Whatever. I thought. Fuck it.

I put my foot on the saddle and jumped.

And missed.

I am not entirely sure what happened, but to be completely honest, it was probably my fault.

I hit the ground close to the rails and the wheels of the train. My health dipped as I bounced on the dirt and rolled. Panic was setting in before I came to a stop.

Scrambling to my feet, I tripped and ran after the train as it started to leave me.

That was when I saw Coot pull something from his satchel and swing it over his head.

He had a lasso.

Shit.

The rope went over my head and pinned my arms to my side as it tightened around me.

Faster than I could think, I was airborne.

That wasn’t entirely true. I dragged and bounced on the ground for a brief second and then I was mostly flying, with random moments of hitting the ground as the train progressed.

This had been discussed, but I figured it was a joke. Bear had asked what would happen if we don’t all make it on the train. Coot’s response had been delivered with no humor but Bear and I had snickered anyway.

“One of us can just pull out the lasso and rope them.”

What had made that seem funny, aside from the obvious image of one friend dragging another behind a train, was I thought we would likely die being dragged behind a train. I was learning now that that wasn’t the case. The lasso was held by a member of my gang, and friendly-fire was turned off, meaning that Coot couldn’t hurt me directly in any way. That included his rope. So, while I was bouncing on dirt, steel, and horse manure, I was taking no damage.

He was reeling me in, as well. In moments, I was on the platform and Coot was pulling the rope off of me. I ate a piece of jerky and drew my pistol. I could have said something snarky then, but the entire ordeal left me somewhere between the highest my adrenaline had ever spiked and disoriented from, well, all of it.

They covered me while I took in my surroundings. The lawmen on the back had all been killed and the platform was clear. Our horses had pulled away and were pacing the train. Ahead of us and in the next car, I could see a handful of lawmen standing and shooting at us, but they weren’t going to hit us until either them or us advanced.

“Advancing,” Bear shouted.

I don’t know when it happened, but Bear had switched to his shotgun with the exploding ammunition. He cleared the next car out with almost no help from us. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if the police from the station were on us yet. There was red on my map in that direction, but I couldn’t see anyone. Hopefully, it would remain that way.

The next train car was another open platform. Bear and Coot had taken up positions on each side of the door to the car we were on and used those walls as cover. I slid up beside Bear.

“They have a gatling gun on that car,” Bear said. “We need to take it out.”

As if he had summoned it, the machine gun opened up, filling the space between us and Coot with a river of iron.

I had to yell for Bear to hear me.

“When he stops, get to the back of the car and use your Carcano. We’ll distract him, you put him down.”

“Someone else will take his spot,” Bear countered.

I shook my head. “I won’t let them.”

Bear prepared to run for it, squaring his shoulders and leaning toward the back of the train. I touched his arm.

“You have to kill him with the first shot, or this isn’t going to work,” I said.

Bear looked confused by the statement, but nodded, trusting me.

The gatling gun stopped, leaving only the raining sound of shells hitting the wood. Bear ran.

The gatling gun couldn’t spin up fast enough to hit him before he was out the back of the car and around the corner taking cover. I drew my left hand Farmer’s Pistol and peeked around the door as the gun was spinning up. I fired blindly in the general direction and was rewarded by hearing lawmen dive for cover.

Coot took over as I reloaded and then a single shot, louder than I was expecting, filled the cabin with its noise and smoke.

I didn’t look or check on my team. Instead, I stepped out from behind my cover with both pistols drawn and fired both of them in the general direction of the lawmen until they emptied.

A bullet hit my leg and my right shoulder, but my health only went down to around the sixty percent mark. When my pistols both clicked onto empty chambers, I dove behind the nearest crate. Bear fired two more Carcano shots to clear the path for Coot who joined me.

Bear ran past us.

Coot and I both poked our heads up and watched as Bear leaped, his entire girthy mass slamming into the next lawman and pinning him to the floor long enough for Bear to raise his knife and slam it down.

There were two more lawmen on this car. Both of them weren’t as shocked by Bear’s attack as we were and trained their guns on him. He was directly between them. They wouldn’t miss.

Aim, pull up, one down.

Coot got the other one with one bullet from his gun.

We moved and joined Bear.

“We’ve got a problem,” Coot said.

“What?” Bear and I both asked over the roar of the train and wind rushing past our heads.

“The next car is where the money is. It's guarded, but I don’t think that’s the problem,” he explained.

“Then what is? Spit it out,” I nodded toward the back of the train, “backup is almost here.”

“This game doesn’t have bosses like other video games,” Coot explained. “They have something similar, but nothing too major. In that car is an armored man. He is covered in cast iron and a helmet. He’s big, tough, and carrying a shotgun.”

“How do you know that?” Bear asked.

“I heard a gang talking about the armored ones back in Easter, before I met you guys,” he said. “Most of the missions with guarded stuff have them, and you can see them on your minimap.”

He was right. I opened my minimap and one of the teardrops was double the size of the others.

“Shit. What do we do?” I asked.

Bear drew his sawed-off shotgun and loaded two more red slugs into it. “Let me handle him. You guys take the little bitches and get the money.”

“Can’t argue with explosive rounds,” I said. Coot nodded his agreement and we all stepped up to the shut door of the next car. Coot touched the handle and looked to each of us for approval.

We both nodded, and he opened it.

Bear ran in roaring while I was right behind him, firing to each side. He slammed into the armored man. The living tank was exactly as Coot had described. His eyes were the only part of him that I could see that looked human. The rest of a bunch of old fashioned metal that looked like it had been borrowed from a kitchen and what looked like a knight’s helmet.

Normally, when Bear slammed into anyone, they both went to the ground, but that didn’t happen. Instead, they bounced off of each other and tried again. They were grappling with each other and Bear couldn’t bring his gun arm down enough to end the armored lawman.

There were only four other lawmen in the car, and Coot and I dispatched them with surprising ease.

Bear and the armored guy continued to grapple until they were back and on the previous platform car. The bags of money we needed to get, one for each one of us, were glowing faintly golden on the floor of the car we were in.

“How many can you carry?” I asked Coot.

“Two,” he said, “but only if I can get my horse up here.” He let out a whistle.

“Do what you can,” I turned and headed after Bear. “I’ll help Bear.”

I drew my double-barreled shotgun. I hadn’t used this in a while, but it was only for special emergencies anyway.

Emergencies like when your gang member’s soft and fleshy bits are being bunched by a metal piston.

Both of their guns were being held by the other’s arm, while Bear used his free hand to try and block the metal fist hitting his stomach. I didn’t need to see Bear’s health to know he wasn’t going to last long.

Blam! I pulled both triggers.

The metal asshole staggered back and away from Bear.

I ran forward.

“Get the money,” I shouted.

Then my body hit the armored lawman and we tumbled from the side of the train.

We hit the ground hard, but my health didn’t move. I think he mostly cushioned my fall, or the included animation for tackling someone didn’t allow for the one doing the tackling to get hurt. I could see a health bar over the armored lawman’s head. He was around the eighty percent mark and since Bear hadn’t done much but wrestle with him, I had to assume that any damage he had was from hitting the ground.

He was heavier and slower to his feet. I whistled and pulled something from my satchel as the train got farther away. I dropped it on the tracks and stood up. Somehow, during my tackle the shotgun had returned to my back. I drew both of my Farmer’s Pistols and emptied as many headshots into the beast as I could.

His health went to about half before my guns were both empty. He stomped toward me and punched me in the face.

Blood exploded from my nose and I felt the dirt hit the back of my head. I forced my feet back under me and tackled him again. This time, he was ready and slammed his fist into my back, driving me to the ground next to the tracks. Somewhere in the tussle or the drop from the train, he had lost his gun.

“Stay down,” he barked at me from inside his helmet.

I stood up.

He swung at me again. His swings were slow, but what they lacked in speed he made up for in force. I ducked the next two swings before attempting a block. I caught his fist swing with my raised forearm and then punched him square in the face.

I can’t really tell you what I expected to happen. It was dumb and hurt me way more than it hurt him.

The fucker laughed.

That only made me angrier. I brought my leg up and kicked him in the chest. That was the first physical attack of mine that gave me some sort of satisfaction. He was top heavy and rocked back onto his butt, landing on the tracks.

I could hear gunshots coming from the direction of Saint Emile. I looked up and saw the lawmen from the station coming our way.

In moments my work on this mission would be over. I needed to do something to help my boys. I drew my pistol and started reloading it as the knight in dumbass armor climbed to his feet.

“It’s over,” he was saying. “Lower your gun and we can take you in. You can tell us who hired you and who’s in your gang. You won’t hang if you cooperate.”

I laughed and raised my hands, my Farmer’s Pistol aimed in the air.

“That’s right,” he said as his backup team circled me with their horses. “Just lower your gun.”

The smile never left my face as I brought my arms down, lowering my gun almost to point at my feet.

Panda_Bear_Polks: We’re clear, boss. How you doing?

Not quite my feet. It pointed at the tracks.

Actually, it pointed to where I had decided it was alright to waste just one stick of dynamite.

There were about fifteen other lawmen all packed in around me.

The armored lawman looked to where my gun was pointing and started to curse.

That old-fashioned portrait of my death and all the bodies flying away in pieces, will always be my favorite.