The Great Train Robbery (Part 1 of 2)

“For your Community.  For your Family.  For your Species.  Join your local Citizen Watch and be a force for good in your town today.  Make a difference, be the difference.  Visit a CitiWatch info-center and talk to a recruiter to learn more.”

William Nottingham drummed his fingers on his steering wheel.  His black 1968 Mustang rumbled impatiently at the stoplight as a trio of Citizen Watch armored personnel carriers rolled by, their engines drowning out the radio.  Once the vehicles had passed and the light changed, Mr. Nottingham continued his commute.

“Good morning Fairplains!” a male newscaster said over the radio.  “It’s nine o’clock and a lovely 46 degrees in our wonderful city with a high of 75 and sunny skies to look forward throughout the day.  Traffic is running smoothly and we’re off to another great Monday.”

Mr. Nottingham lowered the radio volume and his window upon pulling up to the train yard gate.  A stout man in a grey uniform sauntered into the fresh air from his guard shack with a warm smile on his face.  “Mornin’ Sheriff,” he greeted as he accepted the identification badge Mr. Nottingham held out to him.

“Good morning Stan.  How’s it going today?” Mr. Nottingham asked as the guard ran his ID scanner over the badge.

“Can’t complain.  Took my dad and the kids to the park this weekend,” Stan replied cheerfully. “He sure can throw a Frisbee for a man his age.  He says he sure don’t feel a day over 80!”

“That’s good to hear.  It’s nice to spend time with the ones you love.”

“I hear ya there, Sheriff,” Stan said, handing the ID card back. “Sure gonna miss you around here, though.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Mr. Nottingham said. “I may stop by every now and again to give the new hires some pointers.  Speaking of which, is everyone in there?”

“Yes sir, they all got here early,” the guard said. “They’s waitin’ for ya inside.”

“Thanks Stan,” Mr. Nottingham said with a grin. “You take care now and I’ll see you around.”

“You too Sheriff!  And you be careful out there!”  Stan retracted the gate and waved the Mustang through.

The Fairplains Rail Yard was comparatively smaller than most of the other freight yards in Colorado although it was by no means dull.  Boxcars, flatbeds and tanker cars glided along the tracks as they were sorted, staged, repaired, or stored and the clamor of activity filled the morning air.  Mr. Nottingham parked his black Mustang and inhaled deeply.  He retrieved an elongated, tan bag from his trunk and slipped the car keys into a pocket of his camouflaged trousers.

“Good morning Sheriff,” a woman said as Mr. Nottingham entered the Rail Security Office’s ready room.

“Mornin’ Tea, how’re you today?” Mr. Nottingham asked.

Tea finished tying her sandy boots so she could tuck and blouse the ends of her multicam-patterned pants into them.  “Almost all ready to roll sir,” she said as she punched in a numbered code to unlock her rifle storage unit.  She removed a pristine Cascadia Advanced Service Rifle and clipped the weapon to her single-point sling. “Merc and Decaf are in the car with the new guy.  Just waiting for you Sheriff.”

Mr. Nottingham chuckled.  “Sure, just make the old man feel bad, huh?” he joked.  He opened his own locker and looked at the picture of a tall woman standing beside a teenaged girl.  Their matching brunette hair touched their shoulders and their smiles were as warm as the summer sun. “Hard to believe it’s been so long,” Mr. Nottingham said. “Hell, I had doubts I’d even live to see this day.”

“Have any plans?” Tea asked.

Mr. Nottingham smiled at the photograph. “Yeah, be there to watch my little girl grow up,” he said. “I spent a good part of my life making this world a bit safer for Rebecca and now it’s time to enjoy it.  You know, teach her how to drive, get her ready for her first dance, and put the fear of God into any boy who gets close.  Dad stuff.”

“You get the Father of the Year vote from me sir,” Tea joked.

Mr. Nottingham thanked her and reached inside his locker.  He donned a lightweight vest, securing straps and fasteners until it was snug.  Plates of Cascadia’s flexible anti-mauling armor lined the inside of the tactical vest and provided a reliable shield against most small arms calibers and bladed weapons.  The outside of the vest sported an arrangement of magazine pouches on its left side and a pistol holster on the right along with a drag handle on the back.  A thin patch with his blood type was affixed to his left shoulder just below the triple curves of the Cascadia Corporation’s logo patch.  The soles of his boots also said “AB+”, just in case.

“Nervous about leaving?” Tea asked as Mr. Nottingham unzipped his large bag.

“What’s there to be nervous about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tea said casually. “Getting out of this gig.  You know, ‘normal’ life.”

Mr. Nottingham glanced over his shoulder with a sly grin.  He slipped a few pistol magazines into his pouches before holstering a .40 S and W handgun on his vest and an M1911 in the holster on his leg.  “I still have a whole day with our little band of troublemakers,” he said.  Unzipping the main compartment of the weapon bag, Mr. Nottingham unveiled his rifle, a matte black weapon with an image of a three-headed dog etched into the stock.  Bearing a resemblance to an Israeli Tavor 21, Mr. Nottingham lifted the sleek body of his Cascadia Bullpup Automatic Rifle for the United States from the bag and threw the sling over his head and arm.  While no beauty at extreme ranges, the length, balance, and reflex sight of the CBARUS made it deadly in the hands of a mobile operator fighting up close.  Although some found its appearance unconventional with the magazine located behind the trigger, the compact weapon quickly proved itself indispensable in defending countless human cities after its introduction.  After he stored his bag in the locker, Mr. Nottingham loaded a windowed magazine into his rifle.  “A lot can happen in a day so I’ll leave worrying about ‘normal’ until tonight.”

Tea loaded her own rifle and replied with a nod. “Sounds like a plan, Sheriff.”

Mr. Nottingham and Tea made their way outside and enjoyed a short walk to their awaiting train.  A handful of forklifts, trailers, and workers were loading the last of their cargo into one of the armored boxcars.  Heavy crates of medical supplies filled the car as men in powered exoskeletons effortlessly arranged the cargo.  Mr. Nottingham waved to the foreman and approached him to get a brief report on the train.  The foreman told him everything was almost ready from a payload standpoint and the train would be able to depart on schedule.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mr. Nottingham said. “Keep up the good work.”

The two security officers inspected the train from the rear engine to the front, checking with each security car and its crew before moving on.  Mr. Nottingham wanted to be aware of every detail and knew the train’s security measures like the back of his hand.  From the ultrasonic emitters to the flexible armored skirts that formed a tunnel over the doors between cars, Mr. Nottingham knew it all.  However, as he walked the length of the train, the things that caught his attention the most were the six machine gun turrets attached to the roof of every security car.  Well that’s new. he thought when he saw them.

There were seven cars in all, including the three security cars, bookended by an electric freight engine on each end.  An engineer was at the front of the lead engine running a few actuator tests on the “Cow Catcher”, a .50 caliber remote controlled machine gun mounted on the engine’s nose.  The man flashed Mr. Nottingham a thumbs up, satisfying the officer.  Tea and Mr. Nottingham found the door to the main security car and entered it.

The car was relatively spacious and well lit for its purpose although it did make the long rides less taxing on the security personnel stationed inside.  Three men were already in the car when the two officers joined them.  A heavyset man with a short Mohican hairstyle and tactical uniform was busy loading an electric M134 Minigun attached to the car’s right wall.  Near the front of the car, a much smaller and younger man sat before a series of computer monitors and looked up when Mr. Nottingham and Tea walked in.  He stood up, giving Mr. Nottingham a good view of his minimalist armor vest and uniform.

“You must be the new turret gunner, right?” Mr. Nottingham presumed.

The young man adjusted his multicam baseball cap and shook Mr. Nottingham’s hand. “Yes sir, Mathew Rockwell, reporting in.”

“So you run those fancy new guns on top then?” Mr. Nottingham asked.

“Yes sir, they just installed them for this run,” Mathew explained. “Eighteen .50 caliber semiautonomous general purpose gun turrets, fresh from the lab.”

The third man in the rear of the security car chuckled as he leaned against the left wall and nibbled on a bagel.  He was approximately the same age as Tea and similarly dressed albeit armed with a pair of long knives and a submachine gun.  “He’s gonna replace us all!  That’s it folks!  Start looking in the classifieds!” he joked.

The brawny man at the machine gun looked back at him.  “Maybe for little guys like you, Merc,” he said with a hint of humor in his voice. “But they’ll always need a few experts like me!”

“Oh really?” Merc said, waving his snack around for emphasis. “And just what are you an expert in, Decaf?”

“Kicking ass,” Decaf replied without a bit of sarcasm.  Merc almost choked on his bagel trying to stifle a laugh.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you’ve already met Mr. Coffey and Mr. Everest,” Mr. Nottingham said with a good natured smile. “And if I were you I wouldn’t worry about being replaced seeing as how the company would be insane to get rid of its finest security team!”

“Roger that, Sheriff,” the veteran officers said together.

“So you’ve met these two ‘gentlemen,’” Mr. Nottingham said to the new gunner. “But let me introduce the last member of our cabin crew, Ms. Tabitha St. Pierre,” Tea and Mathew shook hands and exchanged nods.  “We call her Teaspoon or just Tea for short.”

Once introductions were complete, Mr. Nottingham asked for a final report which Merc was quick to provide.  “It’s just the four cargo cars this time.  Some serum crates, a few tons of small arms, a squad of VIDAR suits, and this last one that they wouldn’t fill us in on.”

“Classified cargo?” Mr. Nottingham asked. “That’s odd.”

“You’re telling me.  We have access to the car but the shipping notes restrict it to only you and the other top security guys,” Merc said. “The way I see it, let’s just get this thing done quickly and not worry about it for longer than we have to.” Mr. Nottingham was reluctant to comply but this car had “need to know basis” written all over it.

“I agree,” Mr. Nottingham said after a moment. “And… what are you eating?”

“It’s a bagel, Sheriff.  Want one?  There’s a box of them in the office,” Merc said. “They have blueberry.”

Mr. Nottingham shook his head. “Maybe later.  Anyway, where were we?”

“Okay, we’ll be making the run to Fort New Springs which should take us a couple of hours at our normal cruising speed.  We sent out a Whisper Drone to check the tracks ahead but we lost contact not too long ago.  I wouldn’t worry about it, you know how those pieces of crap can be,” Merc said. “Still, we’ll have to cross the Unprotected Zone about an hour into the trip so we have all the usual hardware set up like the roof gunners, car guns and air cover.”

“Helos?”

“Yes sir.  We’ll have two CitiWatch Hueys following us the whole way; callsigns Talon One and Talon Two.  They’ll link up with us once we pass the Wall,” Merc said.

“Outstanding,” Mr. Nottingham complimented. “Seal the doors and hatches then.  I’ll let the engineers know we’re ready to depart.  Mr. Nottingham turned to find the car’s intercom speaker when Merc spoke up again.

“Hey Sheriff,” he said. “You’re not worried about today, are you?”

“You guys keep asking me that,” Mr. Nottingham replied.

“Well, it’s just, you know,” Merc stammered. “It’s your last ride before retirement and…”

“You can just shut up now!” Decaf interrupted. “Sheriff don’t need none of that bad luck hanging around him and seeing as we’re on the same train, neither do we!”

Merc looked at his coworker defensively.  “Hey, you’re the one who pointed it out and said the words ‘bad luck’.  If anyone just jinxed it, I think it’s you.”

“That’s enough, you two,” Mr. Nottingham said. “It’s gonna be a run like any other.  Just do your jobs, watch each other’s backs and we’ll get to the other side in one piece.”

Merc and Decaf reluctantly agreed with their leader and went about securing the car.  They ensured the ammunition stations were stocked and the weapon storage racks were ready.  Outside, boxcar doors slammed shut and the lead engine hummed to life.

Besides, if I believed in fate I wouldn’t use the serum.

…

“Standby for gate retraction.”

“City perimeter clear.  Departure authorized.  Gate retracting.”

The train held its position in front of the massive steel and concrete barrier between the city of Fairplains and the vast wilderness separating them from the next human controlled settlement.  Slowly, the gunmetal shield topped with razor wire slid to one side and revealed the black rails stretching off into the endlessly verdant horizon.  An ocean of summer grass glowed in the mid-morning sun and the train crept forward into it like a ship setting sail.  Each side of the tracks was lined with more long range sentry turrets, some in fortified bunkers near the ground while others towered over the land on their elevated stands.  Teaspoon peeked out through the bulletproof glass by the Minigun as the engines picked up speed.

“We’re clear of the Wall, Sheriff,” Mathew said, looking up from his row of screens. “I have a visual on Talons One and Two.”

A pair of blue and white Huey helicopters sporting the Citizen Watch logo on their doors flew up alongside the lead engine.  The pilots checked in and the door gunners waved to the train crew.

“What do we do now?” Mathew asked Tea.

The security officer sat down in a chair beside him and rested her CASR on her lap.  “No bandit would be crazy enough to try something so close to the city or the sections of track we’ve built sentries on,” she explained. “They’ll wait until we hit the Unprotected Zone more than likely.”  Tea tapped the young man on the shoulder. “It’s still a ways off, so relax!”  Mathew forced a smile but Tea saw through it.  “So what brings a kid like you out here anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The gunner shifted in his chair.  “You probably guessed that I’m not one for real direct fighting, but I do know my way around tech.  I’m hoping this will help me pay off my schooling and with how much they give us, I don’t think it’ll take long.”

Tea nodded in understanding.  “I hear you.  I think that’s what Merc did, joined CitiWatch to pay for college.  Still hasn’t gone though; having too much fun in the fast lane I guess.  I wouldn’t blame him since I can’t imagine anyone who signs up to be a Pursuit Cop would like sitting still for very long,” Tea said. “It’s hard to imagine just a few years ago he only had one leg.”

“What?” Mathew asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yep, he had a nasty accident when he was a kid, lost his left leg and took enough nerve damage to make his right one useless.  You didn’t need to be a doctor to figure he was never gonna walk again,” Tea said. “Then five years ago, the Supremacy War starts and Cascadia releases the serum.  A few treatments and surgeries later and Merc’s back on his new feet like nothing ever happened.  I’ve never seen a guy so itching to run and that’s what he did.  Spent a couple of years chasing insurgents over the rooftops before the Wall went up.  When it did, he found a good gig here, guarding shipments of the same cure that gave him his life back.”

“Seriously?” the gunner asked.  Tea nodded.  “That’s some pretty crazy stuff.”

“I know right?” Tea said. “It’s a strange world we live in Matt.”

The fields beyond the tracks and their sentries stretched on for miles and the gentle rumble of the train was almost soothing.  “So what about you?” Mathew asked. “Any wild stories like that?”

Teaspoon chuckled softly.  “Not quite, I’m just a regular city girl who wasn’t much for the city. Before the war, I would spend summers at my uncle’s farm, working, running, playing.  You know, being a kid,” Tea explained. “My dad’s some hot shot lawyer in the city who left the family farm for the same reasons I loved it.  It was hot and dusty but most of all, it was free.  He and my mom liked the city and the safety it provided.  For me, it felt like a cage even before the Wall went up.”

“What happened to your uncle?  After the war started?” Mathew asked.

“Mom and Dad offered him a place to stay in the city but he wouldn’t take it.  We never saw him again,” Tea answered. “The Wall went up during the tail-end of high school and I started to forget what the real world looked like.  Sure we have the City Park but it’s not the same.  Just to make it worse, my parents tried to push me into law like Dad or medicine like Mom, saying I ‘could see over the Wall from the higher buildings in the city!’” Tea said with a mocking tone. “I read about how the trains between cities needed someone to protect them, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Just to see what’s behind the wall?” Mathew asked, unsure if he truly understood where Tea was coming from.

“It’s more than that,” Tea said. “Even if it’s just for a few hours a day, for that brief moment with the wind in your face, the sun on your body, and a gun in your hand, you feel more alive than you ever will behind the Wall.”

“But what about-?” Mathew began.

“The danger?” Teaspoon finished. “That’s part of the rush!  Hence, the gun,” she said with a wink and a tap on her CASR. “Besides, our serum doses are ‘Original Flavor’, combat-grade, you know?  The really good stuff.  There’s nothing to worry about.”

The gunner didn’t appear too convinced but he did feel more at ease than when the journey began.  Still, he found it pleasant to get to know his new coworkers better and soon asked about Decaf as well.

“Him?” Tea asked with another smile.  Decaf looked up from where he was resting beside a Minigun. “No one ever accused him of being complex.” The man huffed at his teammate’s jab. “Decaf’s what we call a ‘people person.’”

“Hey, I’m plenty friendly!” Decaf countered gruffly. “People are fine by me, as long as they don’t talk too much or get in my way.  It’s wolves I can’t stand.”

“See?  What’d I tell you?” Tea said. “People person.”

“In all fairness, Teaspoon’s right,” Decaf admitted. “I clock in, ride the rails, shoot anything that causes trouble, clock out, and hit the bar hard enough to kill my liver for the night.  I’ll take a serum jolt to shake it off then do it all over again.  Nothing deep or too complex, just good, honest, work.  Hell, don’t believe me?  Join me for a few rounds once we hit the Fort and I’ll show you!”

The young gunner smiled politely and refused.  He checked the turrets’ targeting feeds as well as the train’s other external cameras.  Talking with the team helped him get to know them better although he still didn’t know much about Mr. Nottingham.  When the lead security officer reentered the car from the lead engine, Mathew was eager to speak with him.  However, Mr. Nottingham had other plans.

“Listen up everyone,” he said. “We’re coming up on the Unprotected Zone in two minutes.  I need everyone at their stations.  Dose up and let’s get to work.”

Everyone in the security car prepared one of the several needleless jet injectors they carried.  Just as compact as a normal syringe, the single-use injectors painlessly delivered a dose of Cascadia’s combat-grade serum to the security staff.  Elsewhere on the train, the remainder of the guards administered their own serum injections.  It only took a few moments for the serum to take effect as everyone felt a slight tingle and the sounds of the helicopters outside became more noticeable.  Mr. Nottingham placed a pair of devices in his ears that resembled hearing aids.  The ear buds functioned as both wireless radio receivers and hearing protection that responded to excessively loud noises.

“What’s with those?” Mathew asked. “I thought the serum took care of any damage to our eardrums.”

“Just one of the tricks you’ll learn!” Mr. Nottingham replied. “Just ‘cause they’ll heal doesn’t mean it sucks any less to be around an MG when it goes off.”

“One minute!” Teaspoon said into her throat microphone as the security staff performed one last communication system check.  Construction equipment and crews flashed by in the windows.  A detail of armed guards stood watch over the workers as they erected another few links in the chain of guns following the track.  Within moments, the train and its crew were beyond the range of the last sentry turret and heading further into the Unprotected Zone.

“This is Talon Two.  We’re in the Wild West now, ladies and gentlemen,” said one of the helicopter pilots. “Guns prepped and eyes open.”

“Solid copy, Talon Two,” Mr. Nottingham responded. “We’re all squared away down here.”

The guards stood at their stations with Decaf and Teaspoon training their Miniguns on the fields and trees on either side of the rails.  Tea was on the left gun and scanned every patch of trees or dense foliage for threats.  Decaf did the same but after several minutes of inactivity; the guards began to wonder if any attack would come.

“Think we’re in the clear Sheriff?” Decaf asked.

“All cameras are showing a clear road ahead sir,” Mathew reported. “Even the thermals.  I think we’re fine.”

Mr. Nottingham gazed over at the computer screens.  He radioed the engineer who said they were just about a quarter of the way through the Unprotected Zone.  “Or they could be waiting until we’re too far for any help to be effective…” Mr. Nottingham said gravely.  Everyone turned to stare at him in silence.

“I like the new guy’s scenario,” Merc exclaimed, shattering the stillness of the moment.

“So do I, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” Mr. Nottingham said.  He activated his radio and contacted the escort helicopters. “Talon One, can I getcha to scout up ahead about half a mile?”

“Roger that,” the pilot said as the helicopter to the right of the train rushed ahead.

“It’s just a precaution but I don’t want any-” Mr. Nottingham’s voice trailed off as Talon One’s copilot spoke into his ear.

“Are you seeing this?  I think there’s something up there.  What is that?” the copilot said. “Are those airplanes?  Can we run a check on these guys?  Three civilian aircraft at our twelve o’clock, real far from the authorized commuter airspace.”  Goosebumps formed on Mr. Nottingham’s neck.  “Standby, one of them is breaking off.  It’s… it’s… it’s opening fire!  Talon One taking hostile fire!  Taking hosti-” The radio was cut off by a scream as machine gun fire tore into the cabin.  Alarms blared in the cockpit but without any pilots, the aircraft was already doomed.  The gunners jumped clear of the helicopter before it met the ground, placing their faith in their serum to counter any injuries and fractures.

“Sonovabitch!” Decaf cursed as he saw the helicopter bite into the dirt.  The tail snapped and rotors flailed violently before the fuselage itself rolled in the grass and earth to the right of the train.  A small aircraft buzzed passed the train as the officers on the security car roofs opened up on it with their weapons.

“Talon Two, break off!” Mr. Nottingham advised.

Just as the second helicopter peeled away from the train, the two other airplanes opened fire with machine guns of their own.  They didn’t pursue the helicopter however, but instead flew wide so they could approach the train from behind.  Similarly, their lighter wingman lined himself up so he was directly behind the train and diving towards its easy targets.

“Get those turrets going!” Mr. Nottingham ordered Mathew.

The gunner went pale as he faced the lead officer. “I can’t!”

“What?!”

“They were never designed to pitch that high!”

“Are you serious!?  Why the f-” Mr. Nottingham began before he reclaimed his composure. “Get the hatches open!  Get everyone inside now!  Pitch the damned turrets as high as they’ll go and open fire!”

Merc climbed the ladder to the hydraulic roof access hatch and popped it open.  “Take cover!  Come on, move!” he shouted as the whine of the airplane grew louder.  The officers on the roof abandoned their mounted guns and sprinted for the hatch, ignoring the ladder and preferring to crash to the floor of the car awkwardly.

“Where the hell are those guns, kid?!” Mr. Nottingham shouted.

“They have to be manually told to engage aerial targets!  I’m trying!” Mathew replied.  He managed to get the turrets on the last security car aimed skyward but it was too late.  The single-engine airplane released a hot burst of heavy machine gun fire from its wingtips as it strafed each security car and anyone unfortunate enough to be caught on the roof.  The camera feeds from several of the automated turrets went dark as they were taken out in one devastating pass.  A rooftop guard caught a round in his back just before he fell through the hatch.  Gunfire plinked off the security car’s armored roof but the damage was already done with only a pair of sentry turrets left operational on the lead car.  The other two security cars faired just as poorly with two still functioning on the last car and one remaining on the middle car.

The airplane curved off to the left of the train as Mathew locked onto it with one of the remaining guns.  The camera feed revealed a Cessna 172 with shark teeth nose art, a belt-fed machine gun under each wing and an olive green paint job.  Before Mathew could fire however, Talon Two gave its left door gunner a clear shot of the Cessna and he went to work.  His Minigun grunted sharply and quickly perforated the airplane’s tail until little remained.  The enemy pilot reduced his speed and attempted to land in a flat field but Talon Two wasn’t about to let him escape that easily.  Forgetting about the other two enemy planes, the pilot circled the downed airplane so his gunners could finish it off.

Gotcha now… Mr. Nottingham thought.  Before the gunners could shred the plane, a quick burst of fire raked the helicopter from the ground.  Suddenly, a large mass of vehicles emerged from their hiding places in the clusters of trees.  Talon Two banked sharply to avoid the heavy volume of fire it received from the ground.

“Sheriff!  I’ve got multiple hostile ground assets over here!” Teaspoon said with her thumbs on her Minigun triggers.

“More on the right!” Decaf shouted.  He tested the gun on its mount, waving it from side to side in the firing port.

“Where are the other planes?” Merc asked as Mathew found an external camera to answer his question.

The other two airplanes were stocky twin-engine transports once designed for skydivers but were now armed with a single machine gun on their bellies.  However, they withheld their fire as they swooped in low over the train until they were only a few yards above it.  Both planes lowered their rear passenger doors and held their altitude steady.  As the security officers watched the screen, slightly frozen in surprise, a band of raiders leapt onto the train one by one.  “Aww shit,” Merc cursed. “Who ordered the Double Whiskies?”

The first raider landed on the train in a low crouch with his clawed hands and feet providing more than enough grip on the boxcar.  His fur was light grey with a mixture of black and reddish hues like a Mexican wolf had grown to the size of a man and learned to wield a gun.  A sawed-off pump shotgun rested in a sheath across the werewolf’s back but otherwise he seemed ready to rely on his natural weapons.  His comrades were another matter as each joined him on the train carrying a variety of weapons, accessories, armor, and gear.

The train’s escort helicopter traded gunfire with the mass of vehicles on the ground but while it was preoccupied it failed to spot a small pack of them break away and head for the tracks.  They moved swiftly over the grassy plains, hardly hindered by any obstacles in the terrain.  Although they came in a variety of shapes and sizes so that no two looked identical, the raiders’ vehicles shared a similar characteristic.  They appeared to be the offspring of light military strike vehicles crossbred with pre-war off-road racing buggies.  Some sported olive drab camouflage while others were more colorful as they danced and weaved on heavy shock absorbers and all-terrain tires.  As Tea opened up on them with her weapon, they responded in kind with their own terrifying arsenal ranging from mounted guns to grenade launchers and simple unguided rockets.

“Ultrasonic defenses down sir!” Mathew shouted over the chaotic rattle and chatter of weaponry.  Sure enough, the buggies nimble enough to escape Tea targeted the ultrasonic emitters on the side of the train, reducing them to scrap.

With Tea and Decaf unleashing blistering streams of fire into anything in range, Mr. Nottingham quickly evaluated the situation.  Outside, smoke began to pour from Talon Two and more vehicles swarmed the train as the coordinated attack progressed.  “Security Car Two, report!” Mr. Nottingham said into his microphone.

“Taking heavy fire!  The roof guys are torn up pretty bad!” the officer in charge said over the clamor. “They’re all over the damn place!  Requesting assistance!”

Mr. Nottingham turned to one of the uninjured roof guards.  He instructed him to stabilize his wounded and let the serum heal them further as the rest of the guards manned the Miniguns and protected the lead engine.  “Merc, Tea, Decaf, you’re with me,” he said. “We’re going topside!”

The guards passed their posts off and prepared to climb to the roof of the train.  Decaf grabbed his weapon of choice from the storage rack, a short, belt-fed light machine gun with the words “Coffey Grinder” scrawled across the right side of the receiver.  Merc handed Teaspoon a loaded 40mm multi-shot grenade launcher which she slung over her shoulder to accompany her primary rifle.  “You only got the six, so make ‘em count!” Merc said as he readied his own weapon.  Tea nodded and took her position by the ladder.

“Okay, here’s how it goes,” Mr. Nottingham said. “Merc pops the hatch and gives ‘em a lightshow.  I’ll go next and keep them back for Decaf and Tea to follow.  We’ll clean off the ones who got on and keep any more from boarding.  Questions?”  The trio shook their heads. “Then let’s roll.”

Merc scampered up the ladder and opened the hydraulic hatch.  His submachine gun was designed with an integrated shotgun placed just below the weapon’s barrel and held just a single shell.  Some operators preferred to load a beanbag round or a slug to give them more options in combat but Merc preferred something else.  When a few of the werewolves turned towards his head as it peeked out of the car along with the gun, Merc thumbed his selector switch and squeezed the trigger.  The nonlethal shell discharged with an intense flash directed at the wolves, blinding and disorienting them instantly.  Movements augmented by the serum in his body, Merc pulled himself up and engaged his opponents.

The wolves lucky enough to avoid Merc’s blinding attack took cover behind the damaged turrets while their allies were left helpless.  Short bursts cut down the blinded wolves and kept the others behind cover as Mr. Nottingham made it to the roof.  The wind and landscape rushed passed as the excitement of the moment took hold of the senior officer.  Silver alternative bullets flew from his CBARUS as well as Merc’s weapon but the gunfire wasn’t completely one-sided.  Two wolves decorated with black and red war paint leveled large caliber pistols at the security officers and fired.  A round grazed Merc’s arm and threw off his aim.

“Gah!  Shit!” he spat upon ducking behind a bullet-riddled turret husk.  He waited for a moment as the shallow wound closed itself and revealed healthy skin through the small gash in his sleeve.  Shaking off the hit, Merc steadied his weapon and dropped the offending wolf with a single shot to the head.

The second wolf snatched up his fallen comrade’s weapon and retreated over the roof of the first boxcar.  Decaf and Tea made their way to the roof as the wolf tried to evade the security team.  “How many got on?” Decaf asked Mr. Nottingham.

“I counted six per plane.  We already got three of ‘em so that leaves nine!” he replied.

“Copy that!” Decaf said, hefting his LMG to his shoulder. “Let’s get after ‘em!”

Before they began their chase however, Tea tapped Decaf on the back.  “You might wanna belay that!  Incoming!  Nine o’clock!”

Three buggies pulled up alongside the train after taking care to avoid the security car’s heavier defenses.  Before the guards dropped their heads behind the short, armored walls that lined the edges of the car roof, they saw an additional four wolves preparing to board.  Deafening torrents of fire from the third buggy kept the security team from poking their heads up as the other vehicles positioned themselves.  A werewolf coiled his legs before he catapulted himself from his transport’s truck bed-like rear.  His claws found purchase on the car and he effortlessly pulled himself up as more wolves joined him.

Decaf engaged the new arrivals mercilessly, only letting up to allow his Heavy Enhanced Weapon’s special barrel a chance to cool.  With his final breath, the last wolf managed to aim a sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun at Decaf and pulled the trigger.  The guard took the blast right in his chest and staggered back a few steps but was otherwise unharmed.  “Buckshot,” he hissed. “I hate buckshot.”

“There’s more where that came from!” Merc said, scanning the field again to see more raiders driving up with eager wolves in their transport beds.

“Run or shoot, Sheriff?” Tea asked. Mr. Nottingham heard the thundering engines of the pursuing raiders drawing closer but he also saw the band of airdropped wolves scampering across the rest of his train.  “Run or shoot?!”  The lead officer assessed his options before making his call.

“Both.  You and Decaf light up those trucks and keep the sons of bitches off us.  Merc’s with me!”

Tea exposed herself to the buggy’s gun for only a moment but it was all the time she needed to launch a grenade into its engine.  With the buggy’s gun silent, Decaf was free to fire upon anything he wished.  Unfortunately for him and the other officers, there was no shortage of targets.  While the raider drivers appeared human, they seemed to leave the handling of weapons to their lupine counterparts so Decaf and Tea found themselves exchanging bullets and explosives with werewolves perched precariously on their buggies.  Every so often a raider would get lucky and a round would connect with one of the guards.  As painful as each impact was, they were quick to shrug off the pain, let the serum do its work, and make their enemy pay for each offense.  Still, as shell casings littered the roof of the security car and mechanical and organic targets alike fell to their small arsenal, the enemy’s strength didn’t seem to wane.

Not far from them, Merc and Mr. Nottingham jumped from the security car to the boxcar.  Out of the corner of his eye, Mr. Nottingham caught a glimpse Talon Two’s last moments.  Despite the gunners’ best efforts, they were severely outnumbered by the veritable army of hostile vehicles.  A sand rail outfitted with a series of simplistic rocket pods swerved behind the helicopter’s tail and released a swarm of smoke and flames.  The crude explosives were nonetheless effective in sending Talon Two into a spin before it ungracefully slammed into the prairie grass.

“Rockwell, get on the horn and tell ‘em we just lost our air cover!” Mr. Nottingham said to Mathew in the security car. “We’re gonna need air support if they don’t let up!”

As soon as he spoke, two buggies, one on each side, pulled up to the boxcar and allowed their riders to leap onto the train.  He and Merc were surrounded but for the first time they were able to get a clear view of their opponents up close.  While the wolves dropped in by air carried more weapons than clothing, the four wolves around the guards wore what appeared to be segments of old Kevlar plates augmented with deconstructed Cascadia body armor.  The quality of their armor varied with some offering fewer gaps in between hard points than others but all of the wolves left their paws and heads unencumbered.  Even in their slightly crouched bipedal stances, the wolves stood just a few inches taller than the human officers as everyone waited for someone else to make the first move.

Merc shot first but his hollow-points proved less than effective.  One of the wolves aimed a vicious claw swipe at his head but Merc’s serum-enhanced reflexes were sharp enough to save him.  Thinking quickly, the guard targeted the brown wolf’s feet and sprayed them until the wolf lost his balance and fell off the boxcar.  Before Merc could do the same to his second attacker, the wolf sliced his SMG sling, tore the weapon from his hands, and sent him flying backward until he came to a stop on the boxcar roof.  As Mr. Nottingham squared off against his own two opponents, the intimidatingly large wolf with a coppery coat flashed Merc a menacing grin.  His muzzle was marked with scars and cuts and he appeared to have stitched almost a dozen blood-stained Cascadia logo patches to his armor.

Without hesitating, Merc drew his machine pistol and emptied the magazine into the wolf’s torso with little success besides ruined armor fabric and a single hole in the wolf’s right ear. “I really hoped that’d do it…” Merc said, jumping to his feet.  The wolf touched his ear and growled. “It was worth a try…” Merc admitted as he unsheathed one of his silvalt knives.  Although a battle raged around the two of them, no one else seemed to matter as claws met flesh and the blade glanced off armor.  Most of the time the wolf struck, his claws came away with a trail of Merc’s blood but no matter how deep the cuts, the guard always recovered.  Merc took a step back and wiped his healing cheek wounds before he lunged into the fight again with speed and ferocity on par with the wolf.  In a flurry of strikes he finally managed to swipe his knife across the wolf’s muzzle.

The wolf chuckled as if he enjoyed the duel.  In all likelihood, he probably did. “You’re fast…” he said. “For a human!”  The claws on his hind paws scratched the boxcar roof as he bolted towards Merc again, disarming him with a blow to the forearm. “But I’m faster!” he snarled as he knocked the guard onto his back again.  Merc skidded a few feet, stopping just short of the roof’s edge with the wolf leaping toward him with the intent to claw his face off.  The wolf’s maw filled Merc’s vision for only a fraction of a second.

The wolf came down on Merc hard but as soon as they connected the wolf was shocked into stillness.  He looked down in horror to see Merc’s second knife buried up to the hilt in his body.  Fueled by rage and serum, Merc exploited the most damaged spot on the wolf’s armor along with the force of his jump to punch through.  “It’s not always about being faster…” Merc hissed as he pulled the blade free.  With one smooth motion he found the wolf’s throat and cut.

Teaspoon jumped across the gap between cars and helped Merc to his feet, not paying too much attention to the grisly remains of his foe.  Merc looked up just in time to see Mr. Nottingham kick the second of his attackers off of the train.  “That was a close one Sheriff but we can’t keep this up all day!  There’s too many of ‘em!”

Mr. Nottingham reloaded his CBARUS and fired at another approaching vehicle. “We just need to hold them off until we reach the other side of the Zone!”  The team knew this was easier said than done, especially with a wolf pack still loose on the back half of the train and dozens more fighting to jump on.  Decaf squeezed off another burst into an incoming buggy but before the vehicle lost control, the wolf in the passenger’s seat chucked something at him.

“Grenade!” Decaf shouted, sending the security team running to a safer distance.  The explosive stuck to the boxcar roof due to some kind of homemade adhesive coating.  Although Decaf was thankful the explosion was relatively small, it still gouged a large hole in the metal roof.  As the gunner regained his footing and checked on his teammates, he staggered to the hole and looked inside with a smile.  He entered the car and set his machine gun down beside a VIDAR suit charging unit.

The six Versatile Infantry Defensive Armor suits were encased in bulky crates but as Decaf tapped an electronic lock, one of them opened for him.  “What’re you doing down there?!” Mr. Nottingham asked.

“Borrowing some more firepower Sheriff!” Decaf replied.  The flexible tan armor opened itself automatically to reveal the durable metal skeleton inside.  Decaf removed his tactical vest and any other equipment that would hinder him.  As Merc jumped into the boxcar to assist his squad mate, Decaf put his arms into the suit like it was a normal coat.  His fingers fit inside the suit’s armored gloves and signaled the suit to seal itself around him.

Mr. Nottingham ducked as a few bullets zipped by, approving of Decaf’s idea more and more by the second.  “No objections here,” he said. “But if you break it, you buy it!”

Merc lowered the VIDAR helmet over Decaf’s grinning face.  “Oh it’s not gonna be the one gettin’ broken…” he said.  With the suit fully sealed, Decaf exited the charging station and tested his movements.  The status of the suit’s systems scrolled across the helmet’s heads-up display, letting Decaf know he was completely charged and ready for battle except for one finishing touch.

With no time to lose, the security officers unlocked one of the reinforced cargo containers opposite the VIDAR pod.  Inside the padded case was a mechanical arm that Merc quickly attached to his friend’s suit.  The rig crossed Decaf from left to right and held its position so Merc could affix the Coffey Grinder machine gun to the weapon mount.  Merc then reached into the padded box again and removed a high-definition wireless camera which he secured to the CHEW’s lower Picatinny rail.  The camera could serve as a secondary targeting mechanism should Decaf’s vision become impaired.   With a fully loaded box of 200 linked silvalt rounds feeding his weapon of choice, Decaf was loaded for bear.

Stacking the remaining crates, Decaf was able to build a set of stairs up to the hole in the roof where he used the suit’s enhanced power to pull himself up.  Electromagnets in the VIDAR’s feet gripped the metal roof as Decaf surveyed the changing scene.  Mr. Nottingham and Tea hugged the roof of the second boxcar to lessen their exposure to the armed werewolves still on the train.  “The other security teams are getting hit hard!” Mr. Nottingham said.  “If we can’t get to them we’ll lose the rear half of the train!”

Decaf ignored the raiding vehicles still harassing the train and jumped across the gap between the two boxcars.  The magnets brought him down with a metallic thump that reverberated through the roof.  “Guess I gotta punch some tickets…” he said to himself, now easily imagining himself as the star of his own action film.  “Get behind me!” he said, his voice booming from the VIDAR’s external speakers.  With each step he took, he fired a burst at the raiding wolves.  A few of them shot back at him with the light weapons they carried but the rifle and pistol rounds merely deformed on impact with Decaf’s suit.

The wolves knew they didn’t have much time now that the security team appeared desperate enough to employ a VIDAR.  Fortunately, they thought, they had a plan.  While a pair of them tried to slow Decaf down, the others ripped the last of Mathew’s functioning turrets from their mounts.  They did the same to the damaged guns and threw the remains from the train for their allies to scavenge later.  Of course, with the rooftop defenses down, the raider buggies were given more freedom to bring even more reinforcements to the wolves already on board.

Decaf peppered the buggies to drive them off but the majority of his attention was focused on the rear of the train.  The Coffey Grinder chattered in his hands but the mechanical rig kept his aim true, much to his enemies’ misfortune.  When a wolf caught one of Decaf’s bursts, his friends would drag him to safety if he could still fight.  If he couldn’t, the wolves would rather unceremoniously throw them from the train into a mostly empty buggy cargo bed.  As strange as the behavior appeared, Mr. Nottingham had seen it often enough to suspect the wolves knew what happened to anyone captured on a train raid.  Plus, the security teams were paid bonuses for each lupine body they brought back.

The wolves on the train continued to square off with Decaf as the rest of the security squad had their hands full with the wolves that had yet to board.  Wise to where the train’s defenses were down, four buggies pulled up to let their passengers leap aboard.  Teaspoon’s grenade launcher thumped, the explosive catching the tail of a buggy before it could unload.  “They aren’t touching the VIDARs or the serum shipment!” Tea said to Mr. Nottingham.

“Maybe it’s not what they’re after?!” he shouted back. “Or maybe they’re trying to take out the biggest threats first?!”

The wolves who boarded further up on the train lowered themselves to four legs and sprinted towards the security team.  “Aww hell, here they come!” Tea announced as she let the grenade launcher fall on its sling while she raised her CASR.  The seven wolves barreling down on Tea were a mixture of males and females of mostly earthen colors.  They dodged and weaved from side to side as they built up speed across the car rooftops.  Tea squeezed off a few shots, only hitting a few of her targets.  While some of the wolves stayed low to the roof, two others pounced over their packmates and Tea’s gunfire.  A female with an ashen coat collided with Tea but Merc and Mr. Nottingham were lucky enough to avoid the second wolf.  Merc handled him with his long knife but not before he took a few claw scratches to his arms.

The female tried to pin Tea and neutralize her but the vest and two weapons over Tea’s chest made her impossible to claw.  The wolf’s paws were white, as if they were covered by socks, but her grip on Tea’s rifle was anything but soft.  Both combatants growled at each other with only Tea’s serum-enhanced strength and a rifle between her and death.  Tea’s face was only inches away from her enemy’s muzzle and she could make out every line of war paint dyed into her fur.  Saliva flecked onto Tea as the wolf’s jaws snapped repeatedly and guttural snarls nearly drowned out the din of battle.  With limited options, Tea hastily wagered that her reflexes were faster than the wolf’s.

Tea let her hand slip from the CASR foregrip and took hold of the female’s right ear.  She yanked firmly enough to force an agonized yelp from her assailant and roll her off.  At the distance in question, Tea didn’t need to aim but the wolf leapt from the train before she could fire.  Still on her back, Tea turned her weapon on the remaining wolves trying to fight Mr. Nottingham and Merc.  Mr. Nottingham refused to stand still as he alternated between shooting his enemies and engaging them in hand-to-claw combat.

Any wolf too slow to close the distance was cut down with frightening efficiency.  Targets appeared in Mr. Nottingham’s sights and he halted each of them with a three-round burst.  The few who managed to get passed his CBARUS were ejected from the train within moments.  Deflecting blows and using their own strength and speed against them, Mr. Nottingham threw the last two wolves overboard without hesitation.

The surviving wolves on the security car retreated but left one of their own to cover their escape.  He wore a grenadier belt snuggly over his rusty, red fur along with an empty pistol holster on his leg.  Under Decaf’s devastating hail of silvalt, the lone wolf opened the security car hatch and dropped a grenade inside.  There were shouts from the wounded officers inside before the explosive went off.  Mr. Nottingham’s eyes widened as he turned his attention to the wolf responsible.  A rusty blur dived through the hatch, causing Mr. Nottingham to run around Decaf to pursue the wolf.  He dropped into the security car feet first and landed with a heavy thump.  The wolf launched one of the wounded officers at Mr. Nottingham like a ragdoll, knocking him to his back.  Momentarily trapped under the man, Mr. Nottingham could only watch with frustration as the wolf battled through anyone who survived his grenade.  Despite the serum in the security team, no one managed to stay on their feet for long with the wolf’s claws striking quickly and savagely.  Mr. Nottingham freed himself just as the wolf fractured another guard’s arm.  His red reflex sight found the wolf and he squeezed his rifle trigger.  Three silvalt bullets found their target and buried themselves in the wolf’s torso.  As the raider tried to steady himself against a wall with a bloodstained paw, Mr. Nottingham got to his feet and took aim again.  Although his coworkers lay around him, clinging to life, the security officer maintained his control.  However, in the brief moment it took to put two rounds in the wolf’s heart and one in his head, Mr. Nottingham tried to tell himself it wasn’t personal.  It still was.

“Whiskey down…” he said flatly as he reloaded.  “I’ll see what I can do for our boys in here but we gotta stop these bastards before they take the rear engine.” Mr. Nottingham advised his team.  He knew the skirmish was far from over but he also knew the surviving guards wouldn’t make it unless he gave them aid.  The car’s medical station had a gas-powered multi-injector loaded with a serum booster.  While it diminished most of the other effects of the serum, it compensated by accelerating the healing process even more.  Mr. Nottingham wasted no time as he methodically injected everyone in the car, praying he wasn’t too late.

End of Part 1.  See the description below for the link to the conclusion in Part 2.