The Hunters

50

As the train began to pick up speed, Cobb slid to the southern side of the cab. He hazarded a look at the field just in time to see the nearest Black Robe kill a horse and rider with his AK-47. A second after that, the Black Robe cartwheeled off the ATV, his head erupting into a wet, red plume of mist.

‘In range,’ McNutt reported gleefully.

‘We’ll be too, in a few seconds,’ Garcia said, comparing his map to the specs of the weaponry carried by the Black Robes.

Cobb heard another dull crack and saw a flying Black Robe.

McNutt cackled with delight. ‘They gotta get through the killing field first. Let’s see how many volunteer.’

He was right: the lead drivers who were trying to reach the train veered away to the east, moving out of range and rendering themselves ineffective. The Black Robes would have to wait and attack the passing train from the rear.

That bought Cobb’s team some time.

Chalk one up to McNutt, Cobb thought, picturing the gunman using an Accuracy International AX338 long-range sniper’s rifle, the one with the five-shot magazine.

Cobb’s eyes moved northward. He saw fifty or more Black Robes spread across the field ahead. Some were still riding, but most were parked and hunkered down behind their vehicles, firing at will. The local horsemen, too, had gathered behind the train, firing when they could, but mostly using the locomotive as a shield and waiting for orders.

Cobb turned back to see Borovsky propped up against the lavatory door, looking haunted.

‘Ask him if he’s ready for that tuica,’ he told Jasmine without taking his eyes off their guest.

She did. Cobb watched as Borovsky’s face changed. He said something in a slow, unconcerned voice.

‘He says, “If you’re buying.”’

Cobb grinned. ‘With pleasure. Tell him we’re going to need his men to get us out of here.’

‘Abandon the train?’ Garcia gasped.

‘Shut up, Hector, and listen. You’ve got work to do. I don’t want them to be able to crack our computers even if they brought a Russian Garcia with them.’

‘You want me to fry them?’

Cobb nodded. ‘Anything you can’t carry, kill. Understood?’

‘Roger that,’ Garcia said, his fingers already flying, his brain figuring out how many laptops to take with him and what kind.

‘Sarah, you got what you need?’

‘In my skull and at the end of my arms, Jack,’ she replied.

Cobb looked back at Jasmine, pleased to see that Borovsky was leaning half out of the cab, already telling his men what to do.

‘Anything I need to know?’ Cobb asked Jasmine.

Just then, Borovsky turned and spoke.

‘He says that the men are ready,’ Jasmine said. She listened to the Russian for a few seconds more, then added, ‘He says to jump on the back of a horse and hold on tight.’

‘Hold — onto what?’ Garcia gulped.

Borovsky was still talking.

‘He says that the horses are amazingly well trained,’ Jasmine assured everyone. ‘They have been trained to ignore loud noise, sudden motion, and added weight. They won’t flinch.’

‘Not even if I puke?’ Garcia said.

‘Not even if you continue to cry like a two-year-old,’ Sarah said. ‘Jeez.’

‘Okay everybody,’ Cobb ordered, ‘grab whatever you need that won’t slow us down and double-time it up here.’

Garcia was the first to arrive, pockets bulging with flash drives and battery packs, arms full of bags of tablets, eyes darting for errant bullets. An additional shoulder bag contained two laptops and one wireless charger.

‘Where are the others?’ Cobb demanded.

Other than the occasional cough of McNutt’s sniper rifle, there was only silence from the back of the train.

‘McNutt? Sarah?’

‘He won’t leave, Jack,’ they heard Sarah say.

‘McNutt!’ Cobb yelled.

‘Covering the retreat,’ McNutt said. ‘It’s in the prep drill, remember.’

Cobb felt like killing someone who wasn’t a Black Robe. He hated having his own instructions flung back at him. Sarah came through the door just then, and Cobb put her in charge of the evacuation.

Borovsky was already on a horse, behind the rider McNutt had netted. Five more riders milled around the northern side opening of the cab. The rest were spread out amongst the other cars, keeping the Black Robes from circling wide and coming at them from the east. Several additional horsemen were congregated at the front and rear of the train, helping McNutt keep any ATV from charging the train as it crept closer and closer to the protective embrace of the northern tree line. The mob of swirling dust made precise shooting difficult. It was basically a matter of shooting at the center of a tawny cloud and hoping you hit something.

Before Cobb looked back at his team, he took final inventory of the battleground. He had counted four horsemen and thirteen Robes down. The decrease was proportionate, but it was not the kind of loss his side could afford. They needed to regroup.

Cobb cupped his hand over his ear. ‘Retreat, McNutt.’

They all heard the reply. ‘Bit busy here, Jack.’

‘That was an order, McNutt.’

Jasmine and the others were amazed that Cobb’s voice was so calm.

Sarah was certain McNutt was going to say something massively stupid, like, ‘We’re not in the army now, Jack,’ or ‘You’re not the boss of me.’ Then again, she didn’t understand the transformation that overcame men in battle. It was a sense of purpose, responsibility, and duty that caused every other trait to fade to insignificance.

Surprisingly, McNutt’s response was calm, collected, without even a hint of attitude. He simply said, ‘I can do this, Jack.’

Sarah felt a lump in her throat. It was the first time she had seen the true McNutt — a man capable of unflinching sacrifice, not a smartass playing Army.

‘Sarah, get them off the train!’ Cobb shouted.

The words snapped Sarah from her momentary daze. Cobb stared at her, waiting for an acknowledgement. Once she nodded, he started racing back through the cars.

Cobb was in the armory and rushing up to McNutt before the gunman even knew he was there. Cobb spoke the language he knew McNutt would hear, would understand: he picked up an M1 that was lying beside him as a weapon of last resort, brought it to his shoulder, and fired a round at an ATV. It was barely within range but, expertly leading the target, he managed to nick its left front tire. The vehicle lurched and threw its rider.

McNutt jerked around. ‘Nice!’

‘You keep firing, soldier!’ Cobb barked. ‘Do not take your eye from the target!’

McNutt grinned as he put his eye to his sniper rifle’s scope. A moment later he eliminated the driver of yet another ATV who was trying to swing around to the northern side of the train.

‘We can take them, Jack,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘They keep rolling into range, we can take them all out.’

Cobb knelt and spoke quietly but directly into McNutt’s ear. ‘Priorities, McNutt, priorities. You should know by now that I have a bigger map up here.’

Cobb touched his own head for emphasis.

‘I’m a marksman,’ McNutt replied. ‘I only see what’s in front of me.’

‘That’s why I’m the boss,’ Cobb said. ‘Thing is, if you die here, you’re taking me with you. End of mission. Waste of both of us.’

McNutt fired again, then threw the bolt of the rifle back and forth. The hot shell of the cartridge flew back and hit Cobb’s cheek. McNutt heard the sizzle of it burning his skin, but Cobb didn’t react.

McNutt fired again, then immediately threw the rifle down, slammed the slot closed, swung a Steyr Aug assault rifle onto his back, and grabbed a duffel bag full of high-caliber goodies.

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ he teased. ‘Let’s go!’