Train
by Chris Taylor

"Man," Wayne Brady chirped excitedly to Chip Esten,
"this is going to be so cool.  I've never ridden on a
train before."

"No kidding," Chip agreed, grinning like a kid who
just got a new bike.

Colin Mochrie, who walked a few paces behind the pair,
smiled to himself and glanced at his companion out of
the corner of his eye.  Ryan Stiles' face was
expressionless, but his eyes were flat, bored, and
sulky.  Speaking of a little kid... "It's not like a
plane," Colin said patiently for the fifth time.
"We're on the ground.  It's safer."

Ryan's lips tightened as he turned his head to look at
Colin.  "It can still derail," he said.

"Oh, will you stop it?" Wayne said over his shoulder.
"All you ever do is worry.  Why don't you try just
having fun for a change?"

"Really," Drew Carey piped up from the rear.  "I spent
a lot of money on this and I do not want to hear you
bitching the whole way.  You're going to have fun,
*dammit*."

A very faint smile touched the corners of Ryan's eyes.
"Shut up!  Everybody shut up!" he suddenly exclaimed,
slapping one hand down on an imaginary tabletop.
"Leave me alone, all right?  I'm fine."

Rolling his eyes, Colin drifted back to where Drew,
Greg, and Brad all ambled along.  Oddly, they were
walking in step.  Drew's eyes were on Chip and Wayne.
Brad, who was walking between Greg and Drew, had his
hands in his pockets and was admiring the wood
planking under his feet.  Greg was smiling to himself,
head cocked as if listening to the uneven thud of
footsteps on the walkway.

"Had enough of Captain Sulky, Col?" Greg asked quietly
as Colin fell into place at his other side.

"Why do I always have to share a room with him?" Colin
grumbled.  "He's just going to pout all week."

"You don't have to hang out with him," Greg pointed
out.  "Hang out with the rest of us.  We know how to
have fun."

Colin felt the trouble slide away from him.  It was
enough to make him smile.  "That you do," he agreed
amiably.  "I don't know if I can keep up."

"Oh no," Greg said, grinning.  "Don't you pull that
old man shit with me.  I've seen the way you move
around that stage.  I'm sure underneath that
mild-mannered exterior, you could drink any of us
under the table."

"Probably."

"And have a damn fine time doing it."

"Sure."

Greg nodded and turned to glance at Drew.  "So Drew,"
he said, "why a train?"

Drew tore his gaze away from Chip and Brad and
shrugged one shoulder.  "We've done the cruise thing
and the resort hotel thing and plenty of flying.  I
wanted to do something different this time."

Up ahead, Colin saw a train that consisted of only
half a dozen cars among several larger trains on other
tracks.  "That ours?" he asked.

"Sure is," Drew nodded.  "*Just* ours."

"Holy Christ," Brad said.  "How much did this run you,
Drew?"

"A lot," Drew answered.  "So you'll all be taking pay
cuts next season."  He smiled and shrugged.  "It
doesn't matter.  Let's just say it's cheaper than the
cruise but more expensive than the trip to Florida and
leave it at that."

"You have women waiting for us on there or something?"

"Damn.  I knew I forgot something."

"Oh, that's it," Greg said, abruptly turning around.
"If there aren't any chicks, then count me out."

"Really," Chip called over his shoulder.  "I thought
that was the whole point of not bringing our wives or
kids."

"Some host you are, Drew," Brad muttered, reaching
behind him to snag Greg's arm and drag him along.
"Come on, Greg.  There'll be booze, at least."  He
favored Drew with a very pointed look.  "Right?"

"Uh...no," Drew answered, straight-faced.  "No booze,
either.  I figured we could spend the week practicing
hoedowns or something."

Colin stopped dead in his tracks, assuming a look of
mock-horror.  "No women, no booze, you six, and
hoedowns?  Oh my God!  My worst nightmare has just
come to life.  I'm not going."

Greg turned and grabbed Colin's bag.  "If I'm going,
you're going.  Besides, he's joking."

"I am?" Drew said innocently.  "Hmm...I think I
remember marking 'alcohol free' on one of the forms I
filled out."  He shook his head and chuckled.  "Or
maybe it was 'free alcohol.'  Yeah, that was it."

"You're such an asshole, Drew," Greg said.  "Don't toy
with us like that.  It's hard enough to remember why
we're even going on this little sojourn in the first
place."  He dropped his bag just then and bent down to
quickly tie his shoe.  When he stood, he dusted off
the knees of his jeans and reshouldered the black
overnight bag.

"Yeah," Ryan said, smirking over his shoulder at Drew.
"Don't you have friends of your own?  Why bribe us to
go along with you?  It's not like we don't have
lives-"  A sharp chorus of "shut up, Ryan" from Colin,
Greg, and Brad caused the tall man to shut his mouth
with an audible snap.  He resumed his sour stare at
the ground and said nothing more.

They arrived at the train a few moments later and
boarded quickly.  There was a small crew--the cook and
helper, a maintenance guy, and of course, the
conductor--but otherwise, they were alone.  Colin
marveled at how big the sleeping areas were as he put
his stuff away.  The big bags had been delivered ahead
of time and needed only to be unpacked.  This he did
in silence, completely ignoring his cabin mate, who'd
thrown himself facedown on his bed and was apparently
sleeping.

The dining area was in the car behind him, and it was
here he wandered.  Drew and Chip were the only ones in
there.  They weren't eating; they were just standing
at the window, rocking slightly as the train began to
move.

"Hey, Colin," Drew said, smiling.  "All settled?"

"Yeah," Colin nodded.  "You?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So am I," Chip said.  "Those cabins are really nice.
Bigger than I expected."

"Have you seen the lounge area?" Drew asked.

Colin shook his head and saw Chip do the same.  "I
haven't even started exploring yet," Colin said.

"Well, wait until the others get back here and then
we'll do the tour."  Drew leaned back to look in the
direction Colin had come from.  "Ryan coming?"

"I don't think so," Colin sighed.  "He's still
sulking."

"Figures," Drew muttered.  "Oh well.  We'll have fun
anyway."

"Sounds like a plan," Colin agreed, glancing around
when he heard the door open.  Wayne, Greg, and Brad
all walked in, and all three wore broad smiles.

"This rocks!" Greg exclaimed.  "Those cabins are
*huge*."

Drew walked toward the back of the dining car.  "Wait
'til you see the rest of it.  That's even better."  He
weaved his way toward the door, cursing loudly as one
of his knees came into brisk contact with cabinet.

Colin followed next.  The aisle wasn't wide enough for
more than one person, so they moved single-file into a
car with a narrow but spacious sitting area.  The
carpet was dark blue and thin, as it was on the rest
of the train.  Dark brown couches and chairs lined the
walls, all surrounding a big-screen TV that was
apparently built right into the wall.  Speakers hung
from corners at the ceiling level.  At the other end,
toward the back door, was a well-stocked bar.

"We have satellite and a DVD player," Drew said.  He
gestured to a cabinet beside the TV.  "Plenty of
movies and stuff to watch if we get bored.  I would
have asked for a pool table, but there just isn't
room."

"So basically," Wayne observed, "we're just taking
your house on the road."

"Exactly," Drew nodded.  "Cool, huh?"

"This is all ours for a week?"  Brad asked, flopping
down on one of the leather couches.  "Man.  This is so
comfortable."

Colin sank down into one of the chairs and smiled
blissfully.  The chair was incredibly soft leather and
conformed gently to his body.  "I've got to get one of
these chairs," he murmured to no one in particular.
Reaching down to the side, he discovered that it was a
recliner.  He stretched out and laced his hands behind
his head.

"So Drew," Greg said from the window to the left of
the TV, "where does the crew sleep?  Do you know?"

"I don't know.  The back car, I guess," Drew shrugged.
"There's just four of them."  He sat down on a chair
and rested his forearms across his knees.  "Wonder
what's for lunch."

As if this were his cue, a man dressed in a white
shirt and black slacks ducked into the cabin.  He was
tall and slender with black hair, brown eyes, and very
pale skin.  He smiled thinly at the six men in the
room.  "I'm Alex," he said quietly, "your chef for the
trip."  Frowning, he paused.  "I thought there were
seven of you."

"There are," Drew answered.  "One of us is just...not
feeling well.  He's sleeping."

"Mm," the chef nodded.  "Well, anyway, I'll be
starting lunch soon.  Nothing fancy today.  I'm
planning a big supper tonight.  Seven o'clock sharp.
Breakfast is at eight-thirty and lunch is at one.
It's just soup and sandwiches this afternoon."  He
listed off what he had and took down what everybody
wanted.

"Should somebody go see if Ryan wants anything?" Brad
asked.

Colin saw that everybody was looking at him and
grimaced sourly.  "Yeah, yeah," he said, standing.
"I'll be right back."  This was going to get old fast.
He walked quickly through the dining car and then
headed for his cabin.

Ryan was laying on his back with his hands laced
behind his head, staring out the window.  He was too
tall for the bed by far--one long jean-clad leg hung
off by half a foot, while the other was bent so that
his foot rested on the bed.  "What do you want,
Colin?" he asked without turning.

"How'd you know I was here?" Colin asked, startled.

"Saw you in the window.  What do you want?"

Still grouchy, of course.  "I came to see if you
wanted lunch.  Soup and sandwiches."

"Oh, great.  Four-star gourmet," Ryan said
sarcastically.  "Just what I wanted."

Biting down on his lower lip, Colin walked into the
room and sat down on his own bed.  "Ryan, what the
hell is your problem?  You're acting like a bratty
five-year-old.  Which-"

"Is nothing new," Ryan finished with him.  He sat up
and leaned against the window, turning tired,
irritated eyes on his old friend.  "Well, let's see,
Col.  Hmm.  What could be bothering me?  It might be
that I don't fucking want to be here."

The safety thing again.  "It's perfectly safe," Colin
started patiently.  "It-"

"Has nothing to do with that," Ryan interrupted.  "I
just really didn't want to come.  Drew forced me into
it.  That's all."

"You didn't try to cancel?"

"Leave it alone, all right?  I don't want to talk
about it."

"Fine.  Do you want lunch or not?"

"No."

Sighing, Colin got to his feet.  "All right.  Dinner's
at seven.  We're all going to be in the lounge, if
Your Royal Pain-In-The-Ass should care to join us.
The car behind us is the diner car and the lounge is
in the car behind that."

"All right."

Colin walked through the diner car and told the chef
not to worry about making anything for Ryan before
heading back into the lounge.  All the others had
taken up chairs around the room and were silently
staring off in other directions.  "Lively party," he
remarked as he resumed his seat.

Greg smiled languidly from one of the couches.  "It's
this furniture," he said.  "Sucks the will to move
right out of you."  Taking in Colin's statement, he
raised an eyebrow.  "Captain Sulky strikes again,
huh?"  One hand stole up absently to adjust his
glasses.

"Don't," Colin said, shaking his head.  "Let's just
not even go there."  He sank back in the chair and
closed his eyes.  He saw what Greg meant about the
chair zapping the will to move.  The chair was so damn
comfortable he felt like purring.

About twenty minutes later, Alex came in and announced
that lunch was ready.  The six men reluctantly peeled
themselves out of their chairs and headed for the
dining area.  Conversation picked up as they ate, and
the men once again became animated.  The food wasn't
spectacular--it was, Colin noted wryly, difficult to
make a very good meal out of soup and sandwiches--but
it was filling and not bad.

Afterward, they wandered around the rest of the train
in pairs.  Colin found himself hanging around with
Wayne, while Drew and Greg went another way and Brad
and Chip hung around the lounge.  It really was a nice
train, well maintained and very clean.  It was going
to be a good trip, Colin decided, as he and Wayne went
back into the lounge.

Around three, Greg started doling out drinks from the
bar.  "There's all kinds of everything here," he said,
smirking as he added, "Enough to last at least a
month.  Well...ordinary people a month.  It'll hold us
for a couple days."

Colin nursed a single margarita that afternoon while
they sat around talking and watching a couple DVD
movies.  The scenery rolled by smoothly: trees and
barren land now, where there had been cities and
people before.  It was green out there, but rather
plain.  The sky was nice though--that eye-catching
azure blue that deepened up toward the zenith.  Very
calming.

Dinner that night was a lot louder than lunch had
been.  Of course, most everybody was pretty well
plastered by then.  Colin wasn't; he'd drunk about
three-quarters of his drink, and slowly enough that he
didn't feel any kind of buzz.  He was in good spirits,
though, and joined in the conversation freely,
laughing and joking right along.

Ryan showed up and sat through the meal, eating
sparingly, but smiling a little and adding his
comments to the pile every now and again.  He came
into the lounge with everybody when dinner was
finished and had a couple of beers while everybody but
Colin finished the job of getting damn good and drunk.

It was about midnight when Ryan decided to call it a
night, and Colin wasn't far behind.  It had been a
long day and he was tired.

*

The next morning, Colin awoke early.  Six-thirty, by
his watch.  He grunted and rolled over, annoyed with
himself for opening his eyes before noon.  He knew he
had about a snowball's chance in hell of making it
back to sleep, so he sat up and looked around.  The
room was empty, and so was the bathroom.

Shrugging, he gathered his toiletries and took a quick
shower, and then got ready to face another day of
riding.  Once dressed and groomed, he passed through
the dining car, saw no one, and wound up in the
lounge, but there was nobody there.  Odd.  Turning, he
went back into the kitchen and then walked out of the
dining car-

And jumped a foot when he saw a skinny pair of
jean-clad legs dangling from the roof.  "Holy shit!"
he exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest, where it
felt like his heart was about to beat through his
spine.  "Ryan, what the hell are you doing up there?"

Ryan, gripping the edges of the roof with both hands,
leaned forward and smiled.  "Morning, Col.  Sleep
well?"

"Yeah," Colin answered.  "Good."

"Didn't mean to scare you.  It's nice up here.  Good
view."

"How'd you get up there?"

"The ladder on the side."

Colin glanced around and saw that there was indeed a
ladder on the left side.  "Can I come up?"

"If you want," Ryan said, scooting over.  "Be
careful."

The ladder was solid and had non-skid grips on the
rungs, so Colin had little trouble climbing up to the
roof.  The surface was aluminum, shiny and warm from
the sun.  It was also ridged, so it was a bit
difficult to get comfortable, but once he was settled,
things were okay.  It was only just now seven, and the
sun was bright in the sky.  Fat white clouds dotted
the sky here and there.  Birds flew overhead, and it
was just warm enough not to need a jacket.

"This is nice," Colin remarked, leaning back on his
hands.

"I know," Ryan said, swinging his legs idly.  "It's
quiet, too."

"How long have you been out here?"

"About an hour.  I came right up here after I finished
with my shower and stuff."

"Mm."

"You know when they're serving breakfast?"

"I think the cook said eight-thirty."

"Oh."

"So...are you all right now?"

"Yeah," Ryan sighed, scratching the side of his nose
and then passing his hand down his chin and throat.
"I was being an asshole, wasn't I?"

Colin nodded.  "You sure were."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't want to be here."

"Why?  We're away from everything, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but-" 

Three gunshots in rapid succession stopped Ryan from
completing his sentence.  He cut off and exchanged
wild-eyed glances with Colin.  There were three more,
in the second car, and three more. 

"What the hell was that?" Colin asked tightly, voice
trembling.

*****

**
"Train" (2/2)
**

"What the hell was that?" Colin asked tightly, voice
trembling.

"I don't know," Ryan said, pulling back away from the
edge of the roof.  He wormed around until he was on
his stomach, well away from the edges.  "Colin, get
back--if somebody comes out, they'll see you."

Crawling crab-like on his palms and heels, Colin
pulled even with Ryan and held his breath.  There were
no more gunshots, but he heard the sound of the doors
being opened.  A rough voice called out: "All clear"
and shut the diner car door.

Colin glanced at Ryan, bewildered, but Ryan could only
shake his head.  "I don't know either," he murmured.

They waited in tense silence for nearly fifteen
minutes, but heard nothing else.  The sun began to
beat down mercilessly and the roof heated quickly.
Before too long, Colin was bathed in sweat and nervous
as hell.  Especially when Ryan began inching toward
the ladder.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to find out what the hell is going on," Ryan
replied.  "And we need to get down before we fry.
It's too fucking hot up here.  You coming or not?"

"You're just going to charge in there?"

"No--I'm going to crouch down on the porch there and
look in."  Moving carefully, Ryan climbed partway down
the ladder.  "Shit," he hissed, climbing quickly back
up.  "Someone's at the door of the diner car.  He
didn't see me."  Once crouched on the roof, he looked
around.  "Well now what?"

"Is there a ladder on the other side?" Colin asked
quietly.  "Maybe there's nobody at that door."

They crawled slowly and as quietly as possible over to
the other side.  There was a ladder and once again,
Ryan climbed down.  "Nobody at that door," he called
up.  "And...um...nobody at this door, either.  Nobody
in the car, it looks like.  Come on down.  Let's get
in here."

Colin moved as quickly as he dared, taking care not to
make noise.  Soon, he and Ryan were crouching just
inside the door of the car.  They moved quickly toward
the rear door, glancing at cabins they both knew were
going to be empty.  Sure enough, nobody was inside any
of them.  It looked like all the bags were gone, too.

"This doesn't look good," Colin whispered.

"It sure doesn't," Ryan agreed grimly.  "I don't think
any of them are dead, though," he added quickly.

"No?"

"There's no blood."

"So they're hostages?"

"I don't know.  Probably."  Ryan stood up quickly and
edged next to the door, where he looked out over at
the diner car.  "There are three guys standing there,"
he reported.  "They all have some kind of gun.
Machine guns or something.  Drew could tell you."

Colin looked around, his eyes wide and almost
panicked.  "What do we do now?"

"Um..."

"Well, we need to get off the train."

"Yeah, no shit," Ryan retorted.  His eyes never
stopped moving over the inside of the cabin.  He
shifted his weight restlessly from foot to foot.  "I
guess we could just go jump off the back.  Call the
cops when we get out.  But what about everybody else?
Should we just hope that everything goes all right for
them?"

Frowning, Colin asked, "What are we supposed to do?"
He paused and a look of understanding and dismay
slowly replaced the panic.  That determined look in
Ryan's eyes was distressingly familiar.  "Oh, no, no,
no," he said.  "No, Ryan.  No way.  You're not
seriously-"

"I have to do something," Ryan said.

"Are you *crazy*?!  Those men have guns.  Guns.   As
in, *bang*, you're dead.  This isn't a movie, you
know.  And it isn't 'Superheroes,' either.  Look,
let's just get the hell off of here and call people
who are trained to deal with this."  Colin could see
that his speech was having no effect.  It was like
talking to a brick wall.  "Ryan, come on.  They're
going to come back here and find us.  Then we'll all
be screwed."

Ryan shook his head stubbornly.  "I can't just leave
everybody else back there.  You go, okay?  Get off the
train and call the cops.  In the meantime, I'll see
what I can do."

"What are you expecting to do?  You're just one
person.  There are many of them.  And again, I'll
reiterate: they have guns."  He heard and felt the
clump of heavy feet just then.  "Shit, somebody's
coming," he said.  His heart lurched in his chest, and
for a moment, he was rooted to the spot.  So this was
how it was going to end--with him standing here
trembling like a little girl.

All of a sudden, he was hauled backward by his shirt.
A closet door shut silently against his stomach.  It
was pitch-dark and uncomfortably cramped.  There was
no room to move and barely enough to breathe.  If he
wasn't claustrophobic before, God, he sure as hell was
now.

There were two voices outside: a lighter tenor and a
rough bass.  "Did you check the sleeping areas?" the
tenor asked.

"Yeah," the bass responded.  "Nothing.  This car is
empty.  There's nobody back here.  The roof is clear,
too.  I think that fat guy was just bluffing.  Come
on.  Let's get back."

Colin could feel Ryan's breathing quicken behind him
and heard the sound of air being forcefully ejected.
Either Ryan was laughing or he was crying.  Probably
the former, but what was so damn funny?  There was
nothing funny about this.

As soon as the thumping footsteps disappeared the way
they came, and the sound of the big door slamming shut
carried back to them, Colin tentatively pushed the
closet door.  It didn't even budge.

"Push it harder," Ryan said quietly into his ear.

Colin pushed again, but to no avail.  "Shit!" he
muttered, shoving harder.  His arms were pinned at an
awkward level, so he wasn't able to get much more
behind it. "This isn't working.  I don't have any
leverage.  Help me."

"I can't...wait.  Hang on."

Sweat trickled down the back of Colin's neck.  Oh,
yeah.  Definitely getting claustrophobic in
here--especially when he was pressed face-first
against the door while Ryan tried to free his own
arms.  "Hurry up," Colin muttered, turning his face
sideways.  At last the pressure eased, and Ryan
reached around him to push at the door.

"Jesus, this thing is stuck," Ryan gritted.  "They
must not have wanted people getting their stuff out."

"Either that or they didn't want the doors popping
open," Colin said quickly.  "Maybe it's just latched."
He pawed along the side and found the latching
mechanism.  The doorknob.  Feeling like a horse's ass,
he turned it.  The door swung open.  Fresh air and
dazzling sunlight flooded in.  "Why did they put a
doorknob in the inside of a closet?" he mused,
stepping out.

"Who cares?" Ryan asked, squinting against the light.
He walked out, stretched his back, and started looking
around again.  "I need to figure out what to do," he
muttered, wiping the sweat off his face.

Colin stared at him incredulously.  "You can't be
serious.  How in God's name do you expect to rescue
anybody when we almost got stuck in the closet?  Let's
just get off the damn train."

"If that's what you want to do, Colin, then get off.
Go.  Get help.  Whatever.  It's just...I have to do
*something*, all right?"

"*Fuck*!" Colin snapped.  "Fine.  I'm going."  He
turned away abruptly, sure that Ryan would call after
him to stay, but Ryan said nothing.  Pushing open the
back door, Colin stepped out onto the deck and then
stopped.  The train was going awfully fast.  At least
fifty miles an hour.  It would probably hurt to jump.
"Fuck!" he cursed again and went back into the train.

"You're staying?" Ryan asked.

"Somebody has to watch your back," Colin replied
crossly.  "So now what?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're in charge of this situation.  You're the one
who wants to play hero."

Ryan looked up and shook his head.  "Um...well...I've
never done this kind of thing before.  How the hell am
I supposed to know what to do?"

"You get paid to make up stuff on the spot," Colin
growled.  "Improvise!  *Think* of something!"

"Shhh," Ryan hissed.  "Christ, they'll hear you.
Besides, I don't see you trying to help me out."  He
sat down and his eyes ran quickly across the inside of
the cabin.  "We don't even know how many there are.
That's the first thing we should find out."  Shaking
his head he said, "No.  Maybe if we made noise or
something, we could get a couple of them to come out
and we could..."  As he trailed off, his eyes lit up.

"Could what?"

"The roof!" Ryan exclaimed excitedly. 

"What?"

"We could let them catch one of us up on the roof.
Then the other one could sneak up behind them and push
them off."

Dubiously, Colin tried to picture himself purposely
shoving somebody else off that roof.  "That won't
work," he said, exasperated.  "Nobody would be stupid
enough to fall for it.  Besides, they'd probably just
shoot first."

"Have you got anything better?"

"Well...no."

"Okay, then here's what we'll do: you go to the back
door.  Climb partway up the ladder and wait there.
I'll try to get them to chase me."

"Are you sure you can?"

"Would you just go?"

Colin glanced out the window at the passing greenery
and suddenly wished he'd never left Canada.  "Never
again," he muttered, tucking his T-shirt into his
jeans fretfully.  Nervously, he turned toward the back
door.  "Be careful," he called.

"You too."

Five minutes later, he found himself waiting in tense,
nervous silence.  He heard the heavy thunder of
footsteps over the aluminum roof of the carriage and
saw Ryan jump to the roof of the next car.  A few
moments later, two men--one with graying hair and one
with dark hair--did the same.

"Fuck," Colin cursed, scrambling down the ladder.  He
was now on the wrong car.  Moving as quickly as he
could, he hopped cars and climbed up the other ladder
in time to hear one of the men yell: "Stop!" at Ryan.
"Stop or I'll shoot you."

Poking his head over the top of the car, Colin saw two
pairs of black boots about six feet in front of him.
The one on the left was the taller and had the gray
hair.  The other was stocky and darker.  Both were
dressed in black from head to toe.  Typical bad guys,
Colin had time to think, oddly amused.  He was plenty
scared, but there was something so...ridiculous about
this situation that he couldn't take it all that
seriously.

"Put your hands where I can see 'em," the dark-haired
guy said roughly.  He aimed his gun at Ryan's head.
"Now!"

Ryan complied slowly, holding out his hands to show
that they were empty.  "Take it easy," he said
quietly.  Colin slowly began climbing up behind the
pair, doing his best not to make any noise.  He
watched a wicked glint enter Ryan's eyes and then
heard the strangest thing: Ryan singing.  A hoedown.
"Oh, I hate singing hoedowns," the tall man sang
loudly.  "They really suck my ass..."

"What the-?" the gray-haired guy muttered.  The barrel
of his gun wavered momentarily.  "Shut the fuck up!"

Colin, who'd crouched behind them, hurled himself at
the dark-haired guy's knees and shoved him roughly off
the roof of the car.  While the gray-haired guy was
distracted, Ryan leapt adroitly forward and punched
him in the face.  The guy sprawled to the edge of the
car.  Colin pushed him the rest of the way off, and
watched him land on his head.  Neither of the men
moved.

Dismissing them from mind, Colin chuckled and shook
his head as he crossed the roof.  "Hoedowns?  This
really is my worst nightmare come to life."  He felt
strong and excited all of a sudden.

"I had to distract them somehow," Ryan shrugged.  "It
was the only thing I could think of."  Wincing, he
cradled his right hand to his chest.  The first and
second knuckles were split and bleeding.  "Damn.  That
hurt a lot more than I thought it would."  After a
moment, he dropped his hand and laughed quietly.
"Man.  You should have seen the looks on those guys'
faces.  They thought I was nuts."

"So do I," Colin grinned.  "That's two down."

"Told you it'd work," Ryan said, heading for the
ladder. 

"Hey," Colin said hesitantly, "what were you laughing
about back in the closet?"

"Mm...being in the closet with you," Ryan said.  "I
don't know why it was so funny, but it was at the
time.  Weird."  He opened his mouth and took another
breath as if to speak, but closed it and sighed
instead.  "Ready?"

"Do you want to try drawing them out again?"

Ryan wiped his bleeding hand off on the tail of his
green T-shirt and then chewed on his lower lip.  "It
probably won't work again, will it?"

"Probably not," Colin agreed, crouching down.  His
feet were already getting sore from running and
jumping around.  "I have an idea.  Now that those two
aren't at the door, one of us could sneak in there
while the other one went across the roof and went in
through the other side.  We don't know how many there
are, but there can't be that many."

"What the hell happened to the crew?" Ryan asked
suddenly.  "You think they're with Drew and
everybody?"

"I hope so."  Climbing to his feet, the Canadian said,
"You want the door or the roof?"

"The roof," Ryan answered, smiling.  "Let's do it."

Nodding, Colin returned the smile.  He felt a strong
and sudden surge of affection and pride and
determination and impulsively stepped forward and
kissed Ryan firmly on the mouth.  He felt Ryan jerk in
surprise, but the tall man offered no further
resistance and was smiling when Colin finally pulled
away.

"For luck," Colin said.

"Right," Ryan agreed.  After one dazed moment, he
turned to make his way onto the next roof.  Colin,
meanwhile, made his way to the ladder, walked across
to the next car, and ran through it.  It was still
empty.  He stopped at the door and looked across to
the dining car.  There was now no one there.

He crossed carefully and once outside the door, looked
in.  There were three men dressed in gray and black
standing with their backs to him.  The two on either
side were standing further forward than the one in the
middle.  It looked like the one in the middle was
doing something on one of the tables.

A loud banging sound carried to his ears just then.
Inside the car, the two men on the outside jerked to
attention and took tentative steps toward the other
end.  Ryan must be making that noise, Colin realized.
He eased into the car as the two men disappeared
outside.  Glancing around for a loose object he could
use as a bludgeon, he saw that there was nothing.  He
was going to just have to make do with his own hands,
he guessed.

As he approached, he saw his friends and the crew
sitting in the aisle, mouths covered with tape and
hands bound together.  He motioned them to be quiet
and tapped the black-and-gray-clad guy on the
shoulder.  The guy, who was about three inches shorter
and very skinny, jerked, startled, and turned.  Colin
tackled him and wrestled him to the ground.  Kneeling
on the brown-haired guy's chest, he looked around and
spotted a gun next to an open laptop computer, which
rested on the portable cart in the aisle.

He snatched up the gun and got to his feet.  "Stay
there," he snapped at the man, who glared at him
through narrowed blue eyes.  Moving quickly, he knelt
down in front of Drew and ripped off the silver duct
tape that covered Drew's mouth.  "What happened,
Drew?"

"Ow!" Drew whined.  "Rip my lips off, would you?"  He
shook his head and held out his hands.  "I don't know
what's going on.  All of a sudden, I heard gunshots.
These guys came into the room and started yelling at
us and dragged us out here."

Colin turned his head and looked at the glaring,
skinny little man on the floor.  "What the hell are
you even doing here?" he asked.

The man said nothing.

"Would you untie me?" Drew asked impatiently.

Turning his attention back to Drew, who was dressed in
a white T-shirt and boxers, Colin smiled and sat back
on his heels.  "I might," he said.  "For a price.
It's been a while since I had a raise..."

"Colin, now isn't the time to be fucking around," Drew
said.  "Get us out of here."

"Who's fucking around?" Colin asked seriously.  "I
want a raise for saving you.  Ryan too.  Both of us."
Ryan.  Shit, that reminded him.  He quickly untied
Drew's hands.  "Get everybody else," he said, dropping
the gun into Drew's hands and racing for the back
door.

There was no one out on the back deck, and it was very
quiet.  Well, quiet if one discounted the train, which
was incredibly noisy in its own right.  Pursing his
lips, Colin turned toward the ladder and climbed up
onto the roof.  He hadn't realized he was nervous or
tense until he felt relief surge through him at seeing
Ryan sitting casually on the edge of the roof, legs
dangling off the side.

"Oh, hey, Col," the tall man said, glancing up with a
smile.  "There you are."

As he sat down next to his old friend, Colin saw that
both of Ryan's hands were bruised up and bleeding and
there was a bruise on one cheekbone.  Still, the fact
that Ryan *was* there was a pretty good indication of
how things must have gone up here.  "Another crisis
averted."

"Yeah, in a little over an hour," Ryan chuckled.  "I
had a little trouble with those guys, but I started
singing again.  They couldn't figure out what I was
doing.  Then I knocked them off.  Am I that bad a
singer?"  Holding up a hand, he shook his head.
"Don't answer that.  So anyway, we're good."

"Heroes," Colin agreed.  "I told Drew we wanted
raises."

"Hope you left him tied up 'til he agreed."

"Yeah."

"Good."  Ryan cleared his throat and leaned back on
his hands.  "So did you find out what the hell those
guys were doing here in the first place?  How did they
get on?  When did they get on?  Do you know?"

"No.  Maybe we should head back down."

"Wait a second," Ryan said hesitantly.  His posture
was tense all of a sudden.  "That kiss.  What was
that?  Was it...?"

"A stage kiss," Colin answered firmly.  "Heat of the
moment.  Nothing more."

"Thank God," Ryan murmured, relaxing.  "No offense or
anything."

"None taken."  Rising, Colin helped Ryan up, and the
pair headed down.

In the dining car, they found Drew and everyone else
standing in a ring around the hapless little man who'd
been running the computer.  Brad, the tallest of the
five, was doing his best impression of somebody
harmless trying to be intimidating.  His hair was too
messy and his clothes were too rumpled for the look to
work.  Greg looked a little lost without his glasses.
Wayne and Chip stood with their hands planted on their
hips as Drew knelt down beside the guy and spoke to
him.

"Ah, the heroes return," Wayne said, grinning.  "Where
were you guys, anyway?  We thought you'd gotten shot."

Colin shook his head.  "We were actually up on the
roof."

"Doing what?" Drew asked suggestively, glancing up
over his shoulder.

Ryan glared at him and indicated the man on the floor
with his chin.  "You find out anything?  Like who he
is?"

"Bob," Chip answered.  "He said his name was Bob, and
said that he was going to use this train as a bomb up
North.  They all got on this morning, I guess."

"North?" Colin asked, confused.  "But we're not going
north."

"Isn't this train heading for Canada?" Bob asked
softly, looking back and forth between the seven men.

"No," Drew said.  "We're not heading anywhere near
there."

"You mean...oh God.  I hijacked the wrong fucking
train."

"Yeah," Greg smirked.  "And now the wrong fucking
train has just hijacked you, pookie.  Go figure.
Didn't you know that we were heading east?"

"I...no."

"So, Ryan," Drew said, ignoring Bob and climbing to
his feet, "aren't you glad you came?  You got to play
superhero, save the day, stop a madman from bombing
something.  All before breakfast on the second day."

"You kidding?" Ryan returned, scowling fiercely.
"Don't ever ask me to go on another vacation with you,
Drew.  Ever."  Almost immediately, his scowl became a
grin.  "Just kidding."

Colin smiled to himself, folded his arms across his
chest, and leaned against a table.  'All in a day's
work,' he thought.  'The world is safe again.  And
nobody is ever going to believe this...'

[The End]

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