Chapter 12 - The Railyard Escape
The metal rail car slammed into the rusted security gate with a dull, echoing screech of stressed iron. For a terrifying second, the engine stalled, the deafening roar dying down into a pathetic, choking sputter.
"Restart it, Miller! They're right there!" Leo yelled, throwing his arms around Lily on the dusty bench seat as the beams of multiple tactical flashlights cut through the darkness fifty yards down the tunnel.
Miller didn't panic. His face remained carved from granite as he slammed the throttle forward and cranked the ignition key again. The diesel engine sputtered, coughed up a cloud of thick, black smoke that filled the small cab, and finally roared back to life with a deafening mechanical scream.
"Hold on!" Miller shouted, dumping the clutch.
The rail car lurched forward with bone-jarring force, the heavy steel cowcatcher on its front end plowing straight through the rusted security gate like it was made of paper. Iron bars snapped and clattered against the concrete as the vehicle burst out from the subterranean tunnel and into the blinding, open glare of the abandoned downtown railyard.
Night had fully fallen, and a cold autumn rain was beginning to spit from the bruised, dark clouds overhead, turning the dust on the rail car’s windshield into a muddy grime. Towering stacks of rusted shipping containers and decaying brick warehouses lined the abandoned tracks, creating a chaotic labyrinth of shadows.
"Are we safe?" Lily whispered, shivering under Leo’s dark blue hoodie. Her face was pale, but the makeshift bandage on her knee remained dry, the stitches holding firm despite the violent ride.
"Not yet," Miller said, his eyes scanning the maze of tracks ahead. He cut the headlights completely, relying only on the ambient glow of the distant city skyline to guide the rail car through the switches. "The syndicate controls this entire industrial sector. This railyard is their private loading zone."
Suddenly, two blinding high-beams snapped on directly ahead of them, blocking the tracks. A heavy black industrial forklift, modified with reinforced steel plating and driven by two tactical agents in full riot gear, sat squarely across the rails, its horn blaring a long, threatening warning.
"Miller, look out!" Leo screamed.
Miller didn't brake. Instead, he slammed his hand down on a rusted red lever near the floorboards, activating an old pneumatic track-switching mechanism. The rail car screeched violently, its heavy iron wheels jumping the main line and sliding onto an overgrown, parallel spur track just as the forklift rammed into the empty space where they had been heading a second before.
Metal crunched against metal in a horrific explosion of sparks that illuminated the dark railyard like Fourth of July fireworks. The rail car careened down the secondary line, tearing through rotted wooden railroad ties and sending loose gravel flying in all directions.
"Where does this spur lead?" Leo asked, white-knuckled as he clung to the window frame.
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"Straight to the old municipal ferry terminal," Miller shouted over the screaming engine. "Where a federal marshal is waiting for us with an arrest warrant for every syndicate boss in this city."
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