Wild West Train

“Ya!” shouted Bob as he lashed his horse and raced after the train in hot pursuit. The ground blurred around him as the will of both Bob and the horse met in perfect unison. He matched the speed of the train, locked in a race between man and machine. Bob could see the troubled faces of passengers as he passed them. A guard took aim at him. Bob fired a warning shot, scaring the guard off. The train was nearing a bridge. It was now or never for Bob Marston. Praying a silent prayer, he jumped. His body was slammed into the side of the train. Grasping the end of the railing, dangling over a massive canyon, he dared not look down. Bob pulled himself onto the roof of the train. The wind slammed into him, but he was unstoppable. Bandana over face, revolver in hand, Bob “The Inferno” Marston was back. Racing across the top of the train, he defied the wind. Shouting could be heard from the guards as they rushed to stop Bob. There were two fully stocked safes located somewhere on the train, likely towards the back. He continued to race toward the rear of the train, leaping over the gaps between the cars. He stopped when he reached an enclosed car at the rear of the train. Bob lowered himself down into the car and scanned for guards. None were in sight. He found the safe secured to a wall and built entirely out of titanium. Dynamite wouldn’t crack this safe. The shouting of the guards grew louder as they neared his position. This is my lucky day, thought Bob. I can just feel it. He tried the lock. It was a combination lock in a dial shape. He tried 51 - 76 - 49. It stayed firm. 98 - 85 - 33. Nothing. The guards were now just just outside the door, trying all their keys on the lock. 42 - 22 - 48. Click! The door slid open, revealing a mountain of green gold. Bob grabbed what must have been ten thousand and rushed to the engine car. The guards unlocked the door and rushed inside. Bob took his stand on the edge of the car. “Stand down or we will fire!” threatened a guard. Bob stared straight down the barrels of four rifles. With his hands in the air, he slowly backed away. “Your luck’s run out!” Taunted another guard. “You’re outnumbered, outgunned.” The guards approached cautiously. But Bob Marston had a plan. Bob “The Inferno” Marston always had a plan. In one flash of his body, the door was slammed shut. Immediately, the shouting guards rushed to get the door open. Bob jumped to the flatbed car. With a flick of his hand, he skillfully shot and destroyed the link between the two cars. Without the engine to pull them, the trailing car slowed quickly. The guards broke through the door, but they were too late. “You’re a dead man, you senseless outlaw!” bawled a guard. The guards and the rest of the train disappeared into the distance. Bob had done the impossible, fading into the sunset as the richest man in Brick Rigs.

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