Odd Billy Todd (79 page)

“I’m in,” Dillon Branch said at once. “Hell, I like this idea!”

“I’ll go,” Toby nodded.

“Me too, I guess,” George nodded.

“No,” Billy shook his head. “Just me, Pete and Dillon. No more. Just in case.” He didn’t add just in case ‘we don’t come back’, but he didn’t have to, either. They were all thinking it.

“Billy, I admit it’s a good idea,” Terry tried again, “but it’s risky, and there’s no reason to do it. None.”

“I disagree,” Jerry surprised them all. “Billy’s right. That bunch has been a thorn in our side since the beginning. And sooner or later, we’ll see’em come sweepin’ though here. If there’s a chance to get rid of’em, I say it’s worth taking.”

“We’re goin’,” Billy said flatly. “And the sooner the better. We ain’t got long. May already be too late. I’m headed home to get my stuff. Ya’ll comin’ best do the same. We got thirty minutes.” With that he was up and gone. He called Rhonda, and spoke to her. She immediately followed him home. Pete stood and went to find Shelly, and soon they, too, were on their way.

Dillon spoke quietly to his sister for just a minute, then kissed her on top of the head, and went home to gear up. Barbara didn’t object, but was visibly upset.

The other men watched, saying nothing.

*****

“I don’t understand,” Rhonda argued. “Why now?”

“Best chance we’ll ever have to stop’em,” Billy told her, hurriedly gathering his things. “They’re on the right track, headin’ the right way, for this to work. Might never get this good a shot at’em again.”

“Billy, there’s too many of them!” she protested.

“We ain’t gonna fight’em straight up,” Billy assured her. “Gonna trap’em nice and neat, and let nature do the work for us, as far as she will. Timin’ couldn’t really be no better, considerin’.”

“Please be careful,” Rhonda’s voice was soft.

“I promise,” Billy nodded. “And I’ll be back, and we’ll have us a weddin’. I mean it. We ain’t goin’ to start a war, just ta finish one. We do this right, won’t be nothin’ left to worry about. Okay?”

Rhonda nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she hugged him desperately, fighting her tears.

“I gotta go,” he said finally. “Ain’t got much time.”

“I love you, Billy,” she said tearfully.

“Love you too, woman,” he grinned.

And then he was gone.

*****

Pete looked at the gear, and nodded. Dillon looked at the gear and got a hungry gleam in his eye.

“Oh, this will be fun!” he enthused.

“Let’s just make sure it’s done,” Billy shrugged. “We got ever thing?”

“We do,” Pete nodded. “Let’s get moving. Clock’s against us already.”

With everything loaded and ready, the three piled into the Hummer and took off, all three silent, drawn into their own thoughts.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

The track that the Train was using was an old one. Reworked many times since it’s original construction, it was still in use because it had never been cost effective to replace. There was one weakness, however, along this track, that Billy felt could be exploited.

A long trestle, crossing the Duck River and it’s surrounding flood plain, was rather aged. Recent rains should have left the flooded river high, and the trestle had three weight bearing spans that crossed the river and it’s flood plain. The plain was empty save for a few trees, with no one living closer than three miles. The area was desolate, far from anything but back roads, and absent of any immediate assistance for someone who found themselves in a bind.

And that was before the fall of the world.

It was perfect for what Billy had in mind.

*****

“Assumin’ the Train don’t stop nowhere ‘fore it gets here, I figure we’ll have about a hour, once we get there,” Billy explained, indicating the map as Pete pushed the Hummer faster and faster.

“So what’s the plan?” Dillon asked, leaning forward from the back seat.

“I got eight pounds o’ C-4, and some det cord, and a radio detonator.”

“Where in the hell did you get that?” Pete asked.

“Found it,” Billy shrugged. “I also got three gallons o’ homemade napalm,” he added. “What I’m thinkin’, we string the ‘explosives on the bridge supports on either side o’ the river. They're old, and prob’ly not in the best o’ shape. We can hang the napalm jars, all in quarts, and once the fireball goes, I think they’ll go with it. If not, we can shoot’em, and the napalm’ll just shower down on’em.”

“You know it won’t work that easy, right?” Dillon asked. “I mean, it sounds like you thought it out okay, but I’m just sayin’.”

“I know,” Billy nodded. “But if any of it works, then we’ll hurt’em, at least. Right?”

“Yeah,” Dillon nodded. “It’ll hurt, no matter what.”

“And I think I got something that’ll take the engine down, no matter what. Leave’em stranded if nothin’ else, on the trestle.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out five fifty caliber rounds.

“Is that. . . .”

“Yep,” Billy nodded. “Three 211's, and two SLAP’s. I think that should hurt the lead engine, and the second one, too, if I can hit’em.”

“The Raufoss will do more damage, for sure,” Pete commented. “The AP’s will likely penetrate the skin, and the bullet will do some damage. No way of knowing how much, though. Depends on where you hit it.”

“I thought I’d try to hit the engineer’s compartment with them,” Billy admitted. “I was hopin’ it would do some damage to the instruments and controls.”

“Sounds like your best bet,” Pete nodded.

“How far away are we?” Dillon asked as Billy loaded the magazine for his rifle.

“Another twenty minutes, I figure.”

*****

The water was high all right.

“Well, shit,” Dillon muttered. “What now?”

“We’ll have to get on the track back there,” Pete pointed the way they came. “We’ll get as close as we can, and hump the rest of the way.”

“This is gonna be tight,” Dillon pointed out.

“We can make it,” Billy promised. “Let’s go.”

Pete maneuvered the Hummer as close as possible to the tracks, finding a flat spot along the tracks.

“Ya know,” Dillon mused thoughtfully, “this thing could probably make it down the tracks.”

“Think so?” Pete asked, judging the track.

“Well, this thing ain’t nothin’ like as wide as a train engine,” Billy shrugged. “We’d have to go all the way on down to get off, or come back this way, in reverse. Ain’t no place to turn around. And we sure don’t wanna be on that trestle when the train gets here.”

“Give us a lot more time, we ain’t got to hump all this stuff down there,” Dillon said.

“All right, we’ll try it,” Pete nodded, conscious of the time factor.

He eased up onto the track bed, working to keep the tires on the ties, and off the rails. Soon they were bumping along at the blinding speed of five miles per hour. It was a rugged ride, but in mere minutes they were on the trestle.

“You guys get the C-4?” Billy asked.

“I can,” Dillon nodded. “Used it more’n once. Or twice, for that matter,” he grinned.

“Then I’m gonna set the napalm. I just got an idea that’ll make it more workable, I think. There’s twelve jars, and I got some of them cannon fuses. I can use them, hook’em to a treble hook, and let the train set’em off for us.”

“Damn, that’s a good idea,” Pete said approvingly. “Need help?”

“Get the C-4 first,” Billy shook his head. “Then you guys can help me finish.”

*****

The three of them worked fast, but very carefully. Pete and Dillon worked on the two center supports, packing the weakest points around them with the explosives. After looking at the trestle for a few minutes, Dillon had decreed that there was enough to sabotage two supports, instead of one, and still bring them down.

“Trick is to weaken’em with the blast,” he told Pete. “Ain’t got to bring’em down. Weight of the train’ll do that just fine, I’d say.”

“You sure?” Pete asked, worried.

“Did it before,” Dillon shrugged. “Three or four times, maybe,” he added vaguely. “And at least twice on trestles in better shape than this one.”

“Where?” Pete asked, curious.

“Here and there,” Dillon shrugged. “Don’t matter none, now, I reckon.” With that he concentrated on what he was doing. Pete decided he wouldn’t ask again.

Billy meanwhile was strapping the jars of napalm to the supports along the bridge. Each one had a hole hastily punched into the lid, and one of his brass cannon fuses taped in place in the hole, pointing straight down into the volatile substance. He staggered the jars from side to side, working his way toward the far end. There wasn’t enough to cover everything, so he tried to guess where things would be when the train reached this point, and place the jars accordingly.

To each fuse was tied a piece of green cotton twine. It was the best color that Billy could come up with not to show up enough to give any warning. He pulled the twine from each fuse to the end of the bridge, where a treble hook was attached. Once he was finished, all the treble hooks would be left to drag a few inches above the track, where the engine would catch them, pulling the fuses.

“That’s pretty damn ingenious,” Dillon observed, and he climbed back onto the tracks. Pete nodded.

“It’s just a back up, but it might hurt’em some,” Billy shrugged, checking the lines one more time.

“Reckon we better git,” Billy said, rising to his feet. “I can feel the tracks vibratin’.”

All three men scurried to the truck. Pete hit reverse and started backing the way they had come, not nearly as slow or careful as he had been on the trip down.

“Be careful, buddy, or we’ll be stuck here!” Dillon shouted, bouncing in the rear seat as he tried to watch out the back and stay out of Pete’s vision at the same time.

“We don’t get off this trestle, we go swimming!” Pete shouted back. “Or worse!”

“True,” Dillon murmured.

“And we can’t go forward, count o’ the hooks!” Billy added. “This is our only way out.”

It seemed like forever before the track started to level out, or rather that the sharp drop off from the rail bed started to rise. As soon as there was room, Pete slid to a halt, and started looking for a place to get off the tracks. With the engine idling, Billy leaned out of the window.

“I can hear it,” he said calmly. “Gettin’ close.”

“I’m working on it!” Pete replied. He aimed the truck for a low spot, and eased it downward. Suddenly the water drenched bank gave, and the Hummer lurched down and to the left.

The Hummer hung in mid-air on two wheels. Everyone froze, waiting to see what happened.

In the distance, the noise of the train became louder. The vibrations of the approaching locomotive, and it’s cars, could be felt through the left rear tire, still hung on the tracks. There was no time to panic, or else all three would have. Instead, they simply waited. Billy clung to the grab bar on his side for all he was worth, knowing if he let go, his shifting weight would send the truck over onto it’s side.

Dillon was still in the middle of the rear seat, his eyes wide as he tried to hold his place. One hand on the gun mount above him, another wrapped around the safety harness, locked into a painful fist. He, too, knew that if his grip failed, they would overturn.

Pete took a deep, careful breath, afraid to move more than that. He could hear the train coming just as well as the others, but there was nothing he could do but wait. He strained to hold the wheel against the front left tire that wanted to turn, and follow the impetus of the vehicle that wanted to turn over. His mind went through a dozen calculations in a split second, and all of them ended in failure. No matter what he chose to do, it wouldn’t help.

All they could do was wait. And hold on for dear life.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Billy took a greater hold on the ‘oh-shit’ bar, and placed his feet firmly against the floor, bracing them against the transmission hump.

“Billy, what, are, you, doing,” Pete hissed through clenched teeth.

“Got me an idea,” Billy grunted. “We got to fish or cut bait, here, or we gonna get hit by that train.” His window was open.

Billy slowly and carefully pulled himself up toward the window, using his feet only when he had to. He reached through the window and grasped the edge of the window, roof side, and continued to pull. His body was half out of the window when the Hummer started to lean back to his side.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Dillon repeated over and over, his calm desperately damaged by their predicament. “Billy be careful, we’re rockin’!”

“I know,” Billy grunted, and leaned further out of the Hummer. Suddenly, the vehicle groaned slightly, and with a heavy thud, landed on all four tires. Pete had barely had time to let out a sigh of relief when the bank gave way again, and the truck started sliding down the embankment.

“Hold on!” he called out. “I can’t stop us!” Billy was still scrambling back inside when the Hummer reached the bottom.

Dillon looked forward and saw a tree branch sticking well into the right of way. If Billy didn’t get back. . .He reached forward, grabbed Billy’s belt, and then threw himself back, Billy coming with him, minus most of the skin on his left ear.

“Ow!” Billy grunted. “That hurt!”

“Sorry, man,” Dillon told him, wide eyed. “That branch. . . .” he pointed. Billy looked and saw the branch, now broken, sitting right outside his window.

“Good night,” he breathed, rubbing his ear. “Reckon I’ll trade an ear for the rest. Thanks Dillon.”

“Don’t mention it. Really. Now can we make with the ‘git the hell outta here’ part of the plan?”

“Hell yes,” Pete murmured, and hit the gas. They followed the right of way until a break appeared. Pete never slowed, hitting the opening but leaving some paint behind. No one cared. Pete fought the steering wheel as they bumped through the thicket, trying to get back to the road. They were nearly out when Dillon, still glued to the back window, spoke.

“There it is!” Pete instantly moved to hit the breaks, then stopped. The brake lights on this thing weren’t disabled. If he hit the pedal, someone would see.

“Get us on the road,” Billy ordered. “Even if they see us, they ain’t got time to stop, and nowhere to unload. Let’s go!” Pete nodded, and kept going. The Hummer clawed it’s way up onto the levee the road was built on, throwing mud in every imaginable direction.

Now it was a race. They needed to get back to the bridge in time for Billy to take a shot at the engines pulling the train. Pete worked to get every ounce of speed the Hummer had left to give, while Billy and Dillon held on for dear life.

Suddenly the bridge was there, and Pete threw on the brakes. The Hummer fishtailed slightly, but slid to a halt at the edge of the bridge. Billy was out and running for the back while the truck was still in gear. Dillon got up in the turret, and manned the fifty.

Pete grabbed the binoculars, and took a position at the hood, leaving room for Billy’s rifle. Billy hustled to the front, dropping the bi-pod on the hood, already deployed as he slammed the magazine home.

“Range?” Billy asked. Pete hit the laser on the binoculars.

“Three hundred fifty-three yards,” Pete replied. Billy turned the dials on his scope, already looking into the reticle.

“Wind is. . . .” Pete started, but Billy cut him off.

“Ain’t got the time,” he said. “Train’s on the bridge.” Pete nodded. He could see it too.

Billy set the rifle up, and got comfortable. He had staggered the rounds, planning to use the first three on the lead engine, and the last two on the second. If there was a third. . .he tried not to focus on that.

“Who’s got the detonator?” he asked. When Pete didn’t answer, Billy turned to see Pete frantically patting his pockets.

“Are you shittin’ me?” Billy growled. He could hear Dillon scrambling around in the Hummer.

“I got it! I got it!” Dillon called frantically, trying to get out. Pete ran to the window and grabbed the switch, racing back to stand by Billy. Dillon climbed back into the turret, too short of breath to speak.

Billy watched the train move slowly across the trestle. It occurred to him that their luck had held. The train had been slowing for this crossing, or it would have caught them on the tracks.

“Gettin’ close,” he murmured, and took a site. He led the engine only slightly, getting the motion in his head. When the lead engine was about thirty feet from where he thought the hooks were, he squeezed the trigger.

Pete watched the round impact. The round’s explosive charge went through the side of the massive engine as if it were clay. He could see the charge go off, and pieces and parts fly away. The engine immediately started making a terrible screeching sound.

“Don’t know what you hit, but that sounds bad,” Dillon said gleefully.

“Now,” Billy said softly, sending the SLAP round into the cabin. Pete raised the detonator, and squeezed. Billy moved his rifle, and sent the next Raufoss round into the trailing engine. This round didn’t create quite as much ruckus, but it was immediately obvious that something vital had been struck, when the engine flamed.

The charges went off just as the lead engine hit the treble hooks, and pulled the first fuse. The quart jars on the far side of the train flamed to life, showering the train cars with burning jelly.

Underneath, the charges had done their work. True to Dillon’s prediction, they didn’t take out the supports, but they did weaken them. And the engine was grinding to a halt, pulling fuses even as it died.

Three of the fuses failed to fire. The rest engulfed a good portion of the train in flames that would not be easily put out. Now immobile, and on fire, the people on the train were bailing out to see what was happening. They emerged only to be showered in the flaming goo, which stuck to everything it touched on both sides of the train.

Screaming carried across the water as those first off caught the worst of the fire. Those following hesitated, then tried to help their comrades. As the three friends watched, others tried to fight the fires, while still more tried to get forward to check on the engine, and find out why they weren’t moving.

When it happened, it was in slow motion. The left side support from where they were viewing began to crumble under a weight it was never meant to bear so directly for so long. As it began to give way, the right side support went with it in a screeching of torn metal and thunk of broken concrete.

As they watched, the cars above the supports began to fall, pulling others with them. A chain reaction started, as the remaining supports began to buckle, unable to hold against the weight and the pull of the falling bridge. First in pieces, and then in whole stretches, the bridge crumbled into the river, and the flooded plain around it. Succeeding cars were simply dragged along into the water or the mire, until only three remained on the tracks, left behind when their coupling had broken.

No one spoke for the first minute, too awestruck by the damage they had caused. Billy was the first one to offer a comment.

“Guess it worked.”

*****

They watched for nearly two hours. So far, they had seen only seven people emerge from the water, or the mud. Those seven were in no condition to lend assistance to the others. If there were any others.

“Should shoot’em,” Dillon said softly.

“Should, I reckon,” Billy nodded.

“Be the smart thing to do,” Pete agreed. Yet no one made a move to do so. Finally, in silent agreement, they loaded into the Hummer, and started for home. It was a quiet trip, as each man was alone with his own thoughts.

The Train was finished.

*****

Billy and Rhonda were married a week later. Danny and Trey served as his groomsmen, with Mary and Shelly standing with Rhonda. It was a much quieter affair than the double wedding earlier in the year, with everyone standing in attendance. Because the weather was getting worse, with a snow threatening, the couple had managed to forgo a big celebration, settling for dishes being brought to the house for them to eat over the next few days.

Emma had corralled both Danny and Trey, taking them home with her, while Mary had gone to stay with Amanda. Billy and Rhonda would have three precious days of privacy, something they hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.

Once everyone was off, the two departed together, walking the short distance home arm in arm.

“Well, do you feel married?” Billy asked, smiling.

“I do,” Rhonda said solemnly, then broke into a giggle. “How ‘bout you.”

“I feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Billy answered honestly.

“I love you Billy Todd.”

“I love you too, Rhonda Todd.”

“Looks like winter’s early again,” Rhonda sighed, as snow began to fall as they reached the steps to the front porch.

“Looks like it’s right on time to me,” was all Billy said, as he scooped her up into his arms, and carried her into the house.

Outside, across the little valley that so many now called home, snow fell, blanketing the surrounding area with the silence of peace.

THE END