The panicked shouts grew louder. Dobson pressed against the broken sliding door and listened, ignoring the irritated grumbles from her partner, who still struggled to free her shackled ankles. The ruckus from outside was faint, hailing from somewhere near the front of the train, or what remained of it, anyway. It was time for a proper look at the damage. Dobson put her shoulder to the door and forced the heavy iron open, muscles straining. The door drew back with a shuddering protest, its broken wheels screeching as she forced it to move along the warped track.

  Dobson paused in the doorway and allowed her damaged ocular system a moment to catch up. Slowly, she swept her head from one end of the upturned train car to the next as her vision adjusted to the dim, red light. The narrow corridor was still intact, unlike the other half of the train car. The metal siding opposite Dobson had been peeled away like the flimsy top of a sardine can, exposing the interior of the car to the outside atmosphere.

  Dobson squeezed through the warped opening, grimacing at the way the jagged edge of the doorframe caught the rough fabric of her jumpsuit as she passed. She avoided the light, masking her movements through shadow as she approached the missing strip of wall. Dull red light filtered in from the outside. Dobson reached the opening and peered out. A barren desert landscape stretched before her. The hazy land disappeared in the distance, swallowed by an impenetrable wall of darkness.

  Natural light did not exist underground, and yet, the surrounding sand thrummed with a faint crimson glow. Dobson traced the light to its source, noting the dull glow emitted from a tower stationed alongside the tracks. The crude sign beside the light tower read Misery Gulch. Dobson’s vision swept past the tower and into the hazy darkness beyond, straining to catch a glimpse of the settlement.

  She found the town of Misery Gulch looming in the distance. Like most underground settlements, it was nothing more than a series of holes etched into the face into the cliffside. Steel and wood were a rare commodity this far out, and the townsfolk had to use what was readily available—the moonrock itself. A second set of rails ran parallel to the town, on the other side of the light tower. There was a rickety wooden platform even further down, serving as the town’s designated station. A second train rested there. Its low flood lights painted the surrounding sand in warm colors.

  Dobson peered closer, noting its thick iron siding and shiny, polished mirror finish. Functional and garish. A rare combination that meant only one thing: expensive. This wasn’t some mere company train used for ferrying prisoners or supplies, it was someone’s personal transport. Someone extremely high up in Stillwater’s ranks, from the looks of it.

  There was movement near the rear train car. Dobson watched as the murky outlines of several men emerged from the caboose and made their way towards the wreckage.

  “Help!” The ragged shouting from near the front of the prison train started anew.

  Dobson bristled at the sound. Her ears demanded she follow the commotion to its source, but her instincts refused. Her vision remained locked on the approaching men. There were three of them in total, moving too calmly, too coolly, too unhurried to be panicked townspeople eager to help.

  “Over here!” Sheriff’s Strife’s ragged plea rang out once more.

  From the corner of her eye, Dobson saw the sheriff’s scrawny shape stagger free from the destruction. He limped towards the ominous red glow like a moth drawn to flame. “Over here,” he called hoarsely. “We need—”

  A shot cracked across the stretch of dusty desert and struck the sheriff dead. He collapsed into a lifeless pile onto the red sand, nothing more than another shadow in the land of perpetual darkness.

  “What the hell, Dobson!” Misty hissed from within the cell at Dobson’s back. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile here.”

  The murky shapes of the approaching men drew into focus. The trio strolled through the billowing smoke with the confidence of seasoned killers. Dread pooled in Dobson’s gut as she realized what her instincts had been telling her all along.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Misty emerged shackle-free from the broken doorway and picked her way over to Dobson, as silent and stealthy as an alley cat. “I know you’re used to working solo, pumpkin, but as your official partner, I’d appreciate a little heads up before you start shooting up the place.”

  “That wasn’t me, and you know it.”

  “No?” Misty’s face pinched. “Oh, come on now, Dobsy. We all get a little trigger-happy sometimes. Happens to the best of us.”

  “Stow it, Misty. We’ve got company. Three of them, from the looks of it.” Dobson did not bother pointing out the approaching men. Misty hadn’t survived this long in the game by being clueless. If she was as good as her reputation claimed, then she’d already pinpointed each man’s location and was tracking their movements, just as Dobson was.

  Dobson spoke to Misty without looking at her. “Exactly whose train are you stealing?”

  “Dobsy, love, I’m not a picky gal,” Misty said. “A train’s a train. I saw one stationed here, and I went for it.”

  What troubled Dobson more than Misty’s overwhelming nonchalance was the fact that she wasn’t lying. “These are Company Men, Misty.”

  “So they are.”

  “At least three,” Dobson continued. “Probably more.”

  “If you say so.”

  Dobson stifled the sudden urge to slam her forehead against the warped metal siding. “You said Misery Gulch was a civilian outpost, yes?”

  “Sure did.”

  “Company Men don’t hang around civilian outposts. Not without reason. Did you ever stop and consider why a train full of corporate-paid muscle was stationed outside of a remote mining town?”

  Misty opened her mouth to answer and then closed it again, reconsidering her answer. She went silent and waited for Dobson to finish making her point.

  “They just shot the sheriff dead without question,” Dobson continued.

  Misty politely waited some more.

  “So, to be clear, your plan is to hijack the train that belongs to the same men who just gunned down an officer of the law without question?”

  “Not me.” Misty blinked slowly, like a lizard basking in the mid-morning sun. “Us. We’re hijacking it together.”

  Misty truly was as mad as her reputation claimed. Dobson shook her head, attempting once more to convey the seriousness of the matter. “It’s two against three, and we have a single weapon between us. And that’s not accounting for any additional backup they brought with them. They’re like cockroaches, Misty. If you find one, then there are undoubtedly seven more you don’t see.”

  The pearly smile that split across Misty’s sun-kissed face glowed red from the ominous light tower. “Then I suppose it’s time to test that sterling reputation of yours, Dobsy. I’m willing to put my pride aside and admit you’re the better shot.” Her eyes dropped to the pistol tucked in Dobson’s boot. “Make it count, won’t ya?”

  “I mentioned the fact that these are Company Men, yes?”

  “Excessively, one might say.”

  “You expect me to gun down an entire gang of cybernetically enhanced super soldiers with this?” Dobsons drew the firearm from her boot and glared at it. “A veritable pea-shooter?”

  “First of all, I don’t expect us to go up against the whole gang. Just these three,” Misty replied. “And once they’re down, we siphon their borg juice and strip ‘em for parts. We use my skills to build ourselves back up a little. Give us the edge we need to take their train and skedaddle back to the surface.”

  Dobson said nothing, unconsciously chewing the corner of her lip as her gaze swept out across the smoldering wreckage. The three men moved without hurry, examining the overturned train cars from a safe distance, unaware that they were being watched.

  “If I start shooting, won’t more Company Men come running?”

  “They’ll be expecting gunfire,” Misty replied. “So long as you drop these boys before anyone can holler for backup, their buddies will be none the wiser.”

  It was a plan. Admittedly, not a good one, but it was better than sitting idly on her hands waiting to die. “We split the spoils, you hear? Both serum and weapons,” Dobson said, hackles bristled at the mere thought of working side-by-side with another. “Even fifty-fifty.”

  “Of course, Dobsy. That’s what partners are for.”

  “And I can trust you to hotwire the scrapped parts correctly?” A botched implant would be an easy way to take out one’s partner once they’d exceeded their usefulness. Dobson would have preferred to do the repairs herself, just as she preferred to do everything herself, but it wasn’t possible. She could perform basic patches, yes, but not this. Dobson’s hands were designed for inflicting maximum damage. She lacked both the nimbleness and know-how required to integrate a stolen part into her system.

  Misty brandished a gloating smile. “Gotta lot of work ahead of us on those trust issues, don’t we?”

  “I’ve been crossed once before.” Dobson shifted her stance and took aim at the gunmen. “Didn’t care for it.”

  “You and me both, pumpkin.”

  The town of Misery Gulch loomed eerily silent in the distance, shrouded by darkness. The light from the tower cast the barren landscape in an ominous red glow. Scattered fires dotted the ground around the tracks. The air was cold and smelt of hot iron and ash. A layer of dread hung thick overhead, heavy and unnaturally still, disturbed only by the gentle lapping tongues of yellow and orange flame and the footsteps of the approaching men.