Moments later, Jack stirred, feeling the vibration of the rolling floor beneath him. As consciousness returned, he once again became aware of the cattle milling about him. He arose to a half sitting position, shook his head, and pushed a steer away that was pressing against him. His head throbbed, and a trickle of blood had dried on his neck where it has seeped beneath his hat.
His senses were returning, remembering what had happened. He sat fully erect now. Pushed several cattle away and while hanging onto the back of one steer, he pushed himself to his feet. Dizziness waved over him and the moving steer beneath him left him wobbly on his feet. The constant lurch and vibration of the cattle car made his stance even more precarious. He stood a few moments gathering his strength. His eyes gradually became accustomed to the dark and he could see the moving dark shapes of the cattle. Flashes of light through slits in the car’s sides and door gave off an eerie sensation of unreality.
As he gained his strength, Jack forced his way through the crowded melee of cattle toward the sliding door. By the time he reached it, he could feel the steadiness of his usual self. He knew now that he had been shipped away like a drunken sailor, shanghaied and sent out to sea. He must get out of here. The arms were being hijacked and he had let them get away. Like a rank amateur, he had been duped. They had done it easily. A baby sitting job, Jack recalled saying. And they had taken the guns away like taking candy from a baby. He had to get back there. And soon, or the arms would be lost for sure.
He leaned against the sliding door and felt it give on its rollers. With a slow steady push, he pushed the door slightly open. Bright sunlight poured into his eyes and half blinded him for a moment. He blinked, held his eyes shut momentarily, then opened them slowly, getting used to the bright sun. He knew he could not have been unconscious that long, so it must still be morning. The sun was rising higher in the east so he knew he must be traveling northbound.
He must get this train stopped and returned to the station before the arms train moved out westward. He must get to the engineer and stop this train. He would have to go up on top of the car and work his way forward until he reached the engine. This could be an impossible task. Even if he could do it without mishap, it would take time. Each second, each minute would take him further away. Even if he could succeed in returning to the depot, he would probably be too late. But, he had to try. He had to do something.
With a deep sigh, he pushed the door further open and leaned out through the doorway. The train had revved to full speed now and the wind rushed past with a steady, heavy force. He would have to fight this all the way.
Turning, with his back to the open door, he leaned backward into the wind and reached above the sliding door to grasp the sliding door’s roller bar. The steel edges bit into his hands as he heaved himself upwards, now dangling from the rail, rushing air pelting him with a constant blast. His powerful muscles flexed and he gritted his teeth as he pulled himself upward until his chest rose above the car roof. His feet swung in the opening of the car door like a leaf in a gale. Rushing air beat his eyelids half closed as he searched for a hand grip on the car’s roof. Half lying on the roof, his left hand still grasping the sharp rail, he reached out with his right and found a hand hold on the roof top.
With a mighty shove of his aching body, he pulled hard and crawled onto the flat top of the boxcar. He half rolled backwards, caught himself, and rolled back onto his stomach and lie prostrate, heaving great gulps of air as he tried to regain his strength. The vibration of the car roof beneath him jogged him back and forth and his knees beat against the car roof beneath him. A moment’s respite was all he dared take. He needed to get to the engineer as soon as possible and he knew not how far away he was, for he lay crossways on the car top. Carefully, he tried to change his position as he crawled clockwise to his right. Little by little, he turned himself, finding handholds wherever he could. As he came around forward, he could now see the length of the train. There was probably twenty cars between him and the locomotive. It would take too long even if he could make the trek across all those jolting, careening cars.
He sighed deeply with despair, but with determined tenacity, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, knowing he must try. The wind whipped against his face His eyes were squinted half shut to fight off the blasting wind. The shrill whistle of the train blared in his ears above the roaring rattle of cars and drone of the engine. Then like an echo, another whistle blared, but less shrilly.
With realization, Jack glanced to the left and further down the track. On another set of tracks, running parallel with this train’s tracks he could see heading this way was a west bound train. Hope reawakened in Jack’s brain. Then with practical thought of reality, he knew his sudden anticipation of hope was not that well founded. His first thought was that if he could transfer himself to the passing west bound train, he could return to the depot quickly and he would not have to traverse the hazardous trek to the engine room. But the reality was that to transfer to the other train would not be easy either, and could be even more dangerous. At the speed both trains were traveling, if he jumped from one to the other, even if he could make the jump, he would have to time it just right. If he were to land on the roof of a boxcar, he would probably hit so hard that not only could he be seriously hurt from the impact, he would probably roll off the car. Also, the same could happen with a flat car and he would be bounced off like a glancing bullet. He would have to try for a gondola with its open top and side walls to enclose him. He would have to jump before the gondola was opposite him, in order to land correctly as it passed by. If he missed, all could be over. Even if he timed it correctly, he would need to land in an empty or almost empty gondola. If he landed in coal or other hard cargo, it could still be disastrous.
Closer and closer the oncoming train came. Its whistle blared louder and the clamor of both engines and rattle of cars became deafening. The G-Man pushed himself precariously to his feet, legs spread and knees flexed for a lower center of gravity. The roof of the boxcar wobbled beneath his feet and he spread his arms wide for balance.
The engine of the west bound was close now, two trains passing, going their separate ways. Jack carefully twisted his body so he could make his jump approach diagonally across the car roof so the oncoming rush of air would be somewhat at his back, giving him extra momentum as he entered the daring leap.
The engine had passed him now, the oncoming cars rolling in suit. Several box cars passed by, then a flat or two and more cars. "Here it comes, " he thought as he saw the approaching gondola. He swallowed hard. Closer, closer. Now! No! He pulled back in his stance and watched the coal laden gondola go by. The pounding wind could hardly dry the sweat that poured down his face.
More Cars passed by. Two more gondolas approached in tandem. Steady, Steady. Here they come. Ready or not. Got to try. Now!
With two quick strides and then a jump, leaping into the air, arms extended like wings he hurtled himself into the nothingness of whipping air. All was a blur as the machinery passed beneath him. He seemed to dangle suspended in flight, but it all came up fast. Even with the air blasting his eyelids half shut, he panicked as he saw the first gondola passing beneath him. Missed!
He choked with a gasp of air and his heart seemed to fill his throat and then he landed. The second gondola was just passing by and Jack fell into it, almost missing but managing to fall inside at the rear. His outward splayed arms, grabbed the edge of the top of the back wall, the force seeming to pull his arms from their sockets, but he held on tight, pain shooting through his back. He had pulled his legs upward trying to grasp the side of the wall with them, hoping that if there were any cargo he would not be plunging into it.
He hung there a moment, catching his breath. He looked down. The gondola was one third filled with coal. Slowly he lowered his feet and stood in the vibrating stones. He leaned back against the wall. He breathed heavily and rested. His perception returning to normalcy.
The train was slowing by the time he regained his comp
osure. It must be approaching the depot, he thought. He scrambled to the right side of the gondola, leaned over the edge, and peered down the track.
A whistle blew and he could see the loaded train with its hijacked cargo starting to chug forward and head on down the track. Clayton grimaced. So close. He couldn’t let it get away. Not after all this. He pushed himself off the wall and struggled across the coal to the other side of the gondola. The train was crawling along now, barely moving, rolling into its stop.
Jack heaved himself up and clamored over the side of the car, lowered himself body length, and dropped into the dirt alongside the track as the train came to a halt with a giant hiss of steam. The moving ground beneath his feet slipped out under him and he landed sitting up.
Without hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and ran toward the Shipping office, where he had left Regret tied.
Regret shied a little at the sudden advance, but recognized his master. He snorted, eager to go into action. With quick smooth action Jack had the loosened reins and swung into the saddle, pulling Regret’s head around and urging him into pursuit.
Hell was thrown to the winds and passengers, passerbys, and workers all scrambled to escape the path of the furious flight. Freight was dropped, and women screamed, but horse and rider fled on crossing the railroad tracks and heading westward in pursuit of the train ahead which, although it had a good head start, it had not yet built up a full head of steam.
*****
Chapter Eight
Deadly Pursuit