The Train Episode 58

As the bullets flew, Nicole grabbed her pistol and tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness. Hunting without light was nothing new for her, but she wasn’t so sure about Michael. She had to get to him. He needed help.

Suddenly she felt movement somewhere behind her. Slowing her breathing, she listened to the approaching footsteps.

“Male. Slight limp,” she thought, based on the sound.

As he drew closer, she cocked the pistol’s hammer and readied herself. Once the man was close enough, she would spin around and fire. But before she could turn, a pair of hands seized her wrist and twisted, forcing her to drop the weapon. With her free hand, she quickly reached underneath her red evening gown and drew out a second pistol from her thigh holster, only to have it torn out of her hand before she had even raised it. Reaching behind her, she pulled a knife free from its sheath at the back of her neck and brought it forward. The man grabbed her wrist again and turned the knife away from him.

“Will you please stop trying to kill me?” he asked.

Recognizing the voice, Nicole exhaled and whispered,

“Michael?”

“Yes, it’s me, or should I say it is I,” Michael said bringing his smiling face into the light. “Always did have trouble with pronouns.”

“What happened?” she asked. “Why are you limping?”

“Right after you killed the power, I hit the floor then fired a shot into the air. Like a pack of wolves in a panic, they opened fire on each other. I kept low and beat it out of there,” Michael explained.

“But why are you limping?” Nicole repeated.

Michael returned her guns and explained, “I just banged my knee trying to get over here.”

Relieved, Nicole exhaled and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“I could have killed you, you know,” she pointed out.

Michael shrugged, “You could have tried.”

After a few more shots, the gunfire stopped and they heard someone panting in the darkness.

“Who do you suppose is left?” Nicole asked.

“Luther, I bet. He’s the professional. Probably used to this stuff.”

Nicole removed her pistol, twisted on the silencer, and closed her eyes to listen to Luther’s breathing as he scuttled about in the darkness.

“What are you?” Michael asked as he watched her.

“Be quiet!” Nicole insisted then once again trained her ears on the sound.

“When you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing, we need to deal with Luther,” Michael whispered.

Suddenly Nicole fired into the darkness and a moment later, there was a thud then silence.

“He’s dealt with,” Nicole said slipping her pistol back in its holster.

“That’s a little unnerving,” Michael admitted as Nicole made her way back to the power box.

When she flipped the switch, light flooded the warehouse. As they made their way towards the front door, they stepped over one body after another. Michael stopped in the center of the carnage and looked around.

“I honestly did not expect this result. I genuinely figured they would shoot a few times then try to find me,” he said.

He turned and walked over to Armstrong who lay back in his chair, dead from a gunshot wound.

“You think I made too much of a change to history by accidentally killing a crime boss?” he asked.

“Small time crime boss,” Nicole corrected. “And no, I don’t.”

They walked over to Luther’s body. He was sprawled out on his stomach a good distance away from the others.

“Looks like he was trying to escape,” Michael observed.

Nicole just shrugged indifferently.

“How did you do that?” Michael asked.

Nicole made no response but kept looking over the bodies until she stopped and stood over one.

“Find him?” Michael asked, knowing who she was looking for.

When he walked up beside Nicole, he saw Wilson, dying from a gunshot wound. He was pinned to the floor by one of Armstrong’s dead soldiers.

Michael bent down and spoke to the wounded man.

“You may need her, but she doesn’t need you. You’re trouble and if she had tried to leave you, you would have killed her rather than lose her. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Sorry, but when you wake up, she’ll be gone.”

Michael reached out and brushed hair off Wilson’s forehead then looked back into his eyes.

“Don’t try to find her.”

As Michael stood up, Nicole asked,

“Why did you brush his hair off his forehead?”

“It made me seem distant and even a little psychotic,” he explained. Turning to leave, he stopped and added, “Besides, it was bugging me.”

“Let’s get out of here before the cops come.”

“What about Wilson?” Nicole asked.

“He won’t be a problem anymore,” Michael assured her.

As he headed for the exit, he heard the pop of Nicole’s silenced pistol. When he turned around, he saw her still standing over Wilson, now dead with a fresh hole in his head.

Tucking away her pistol, she said,

“No. He will not be a problem.”

Michael watched her for a moment then suggested,

“We’re going to talk about that later.”

Gliding past him, she said over her shoulder,

“You will talk.”

Michael shook his head and hurried to catch up with her as police sirens filled the quiet night air.

 

*          *          *

 

When they made it back to the nightclub, Michael confidently strode up to Dr. Ricer seated at one of the tables nervously twisting a glass of water in his hand. His eyes darted back and forth between Cynthia Cooper and her son.

“No need to worry anymore, Doc. Cynthia and Lincoln should be safe now.”

Michael took a seat and stretched out his legs to relax.

“The boy’s name is Kenneth. Wilson called him Lincoln. But, Michael, she’s still not safe,” Ricer corrected.

“Wilson’s dead, so no one will hurt her now,” Nicole argued.

“I don’t know what to say,” Ricer sighed, “but she still dies on New Year’s Eve.”

Michael looked up at Cynthia Cooper on stage then to the boy.

“So nothing changed, Doc?” he asked.

With a downcast face, Ricer turned toward Michael.

“No, Michael. Something has changed. Now Cynthia dies, but her boy lives.”

 

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Published in: on March 17, 2016 at 6:11 pm  Leave a Comment  
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