Andy McDermott - The Hunt For Atlantis

Another howl of metal from beneath the engine set Chase’s teeth on edge, but he kept pushing the throttle forward even as the sharp turn threatened to pitch him out of the driver’s seat.

One more set of points and he would be on the main line, following the other train. If he forced every ounce of power out of the locomotive, it shouldn’t take too long to catch up-and if he judged it right, he could match speeds and automatically couple his own engine to the back of the train, then climb out of the cab and jump aboard.

Light flashed off metal ahead: something moving.

The last set of points had changed!

Chase snapped his head around to see two frightened faces staring out of the signal cabin’s window as he powered past. The driver must have told the signalman to try to stop him-and now his locomotive would end up on the track parallel to the other train.

Which meant that if another train came the other way, he would plow headlong into it!

But if they thought that would stop him, they were wrong.

With a last crash of overstressed metal, Chase’s locomotive thundered through the points. He slammed the throttle forward as far as it would go. The needles jumped again, but the only one he cared about was the speedometer. Thirty kilometers per hour… forty…

The tracks ahead curved back and forth as they wove through the mountains. He couldn’t see the other train yet. But it couldn’t be too far ahead.

Catching up with it wasn’t his biggest problem.

Getting onto it was.

Castille and Hafez exchanged looks. Both men had long experience with soldiers, and they had been watching carefully for the telltale signs of boredom and inattentiveness that almost inevitably struck during guard duty.

The soldiers watching them were showing the signs. They outnumbered their handcuffed prisoners two to one, and were armed, so they had an innate feeling of power and superiority that could easily slip into complacency. When the two men were first shoved into the compartment, the soldiers’ weapons had been raised and fixed on them.

Now, they were lowered. It would only take a moment for them to be lifted again-but a moment was all Castille and Hafez needed.

They just had to wait for the right one.

The more Nina tried to ignore Mahjad, the more she became aware of his gaze. All she could do was turn away from him and lean closer to the window, watching the mountainous landscape roll past beyond the dirty glass.

Mahjad shifted position. Nina glanced at him-and froze in horror when she saw that he was toying with Chase’s Wildey.

“My life would be easier if you and your friends had been shot while trying to escape,” he said. “Less paperwork, fewer questions from my superiors. Maybe I should just kill you all before we arrive and save myself some work.” The gun slowly came around, its thick muzzle pointing at her. She cringed in her seat. “But… you could persuade me to change my mind. Save your friends.”

“How?” Nina asked. But she already knew the answer.

“You know how,” he answered, leaning back in his seat as a gloating smirk spread across his face.

“You’re sick.”

The smirk intensified. “I’m not an unreasonable man,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’ll give you a few minutes to consider it. If you choose not to accept my offer…” his face twisted into a malevolent grin, “I’ll kill your friends. And give you to my men. I’m afraid they’re not… what’s the word? As gentlemanly as me.”

Paralyzed by the sick fear churning her stomach, Nina turned away from him again, utterly lost and alone.

The locomotive was now doing over seventy kilometers per hour, still accelerating. Chase stared intently at the view ahead, searching for the first glimpse of the other train as he powered around a long curve.

There!

About half a mile ahead, but he was gaining.

Two minutes to catch up. Maybe less.

The gap between the tracks was around ten feet. But the distance between the sides of the two trains would be smaller, as little as five feet. An easy jump.

At least, easy when the two vehicles weren’t doing close to fifty miles an hour.

Chase adjusted the throttle, hanging his rifle from it by its strap to hold down the dead-man’s switch. If he eased it off just before he drew alongside, then the loco should match speeds and make his jump easier. He moved to the open door and leaned out to judge the force of the wind-

And was hit from behind, his shoulder smashing agonizingly into the metal frame as the last Iranian soldier burst from the corridor connecting the front and rear cabs. Shit! How had he gotten on the train?

The track bed blurred past below as the soldier tried to shove Chase out of the door. One arm numbed by the impact, the only thing he could reach for support was the handrail on the outside of the engine, which made him swing even farther out of the cab.

From where he saw the headlights of another locomotive, charging straight at them!

The soldier’s hands clamped around Chase’s throat, squeezing tight and forcing him farther over the edge of the footplate.

Chase fought for breath as the other man’s thumbs dug into his windpipe. It took all his strength just to hold on to the handrail, pain burning through his other arm as it hung stiffly beneath him.

And in the corner of his eye he could see the headlights of the oncoming train growing brighter.

The Iranian loomed closer, his lips pulled back into a snarl. “Die, you American bastard!”

“American?” Chase choked out. A resurgent energy pumped through his body, and his free hand shot up, smashing into the Iranian’s face like a hammer. Blood squirted from the man’s mashed nose as cartilage crackled under the blow. The pressure around his neck vanished immediately as the soldier jerked back, gasping in pain.

He drove one knee into the soldier’s stomach. The man groaned and rolled off him, and Chase hauled himself upright. “I’m British , you twat!”

A horn blared.

Through the windscreen, he saw the other locomotive barreling towards them, sparks spewing from its wheels as the driver slammed on the brakes. It was towing a long train of white tanker trucks, full of fuel or chemicals.

The driver of the oncoming train flung himself from the cab. It rushed at Chase like a cannon shell, lights blazing.

Nina’s train was almost alongside him. The rear car wasn’t quite level, but he was out of time-

The soldier sat up-and screamed.

Chase jumped to the other track, and just caught the guardrail on the back of the open platform. All he could do was cling to the weathered metal with his finger tips as-

The locomotives collided.

Chase’s engine plowed through the other, forced upwards by the impact. The bodywork of the oncoming locomotive shattered in a blizzard of metal.

Then the chassis hit the unyielding metal block of the second loco’s huge diesel engine. Chase’s locomotive weighed almost a hundred tons, but against the momentum of a train weighing several thousand tons moving at almost fifty miles an hour, it was like running into an iron wall.

The locomotive flipped, its back end flying up from the tracks. For one instant, it was airborne, inverted-then it crashed down on to the other loco. Both engines disintegrated under the impact. Hundreds of gallons of diesel spewed free, igniting.