Have a Heart

The first thing that the man noticed was the rhythmic clack clack clack of the train moving rapidly on metal rails. He opened his eyes.

“Where the fuck am I?”, he thought to himself. He felt a kind of disorientation. His mouth was dry. He thought hard for a moment and couldn’t come up with where he was. What he was doing on a train. A rational fear began to creep up on his otherwise calm demeanor. Under the circumstances, he should be afraid he thought to himself. He sat up. The cabin was small. He was lying in a bed that was situated above a bench seat that butted up against a window with scenery rushing by rapidly. He hopped down and took a deep breath. He could deal with this. He had a sense that he was supposed to be here. He felt his back pocket. A wallet. He pulled it out. Joseph Allen. The ID was for a company called CRRC. The picture was of a middle-aged man with jet black hair. He thought that he should at least recognize that it was him, but he didn’t. He only assumed it was. It could be a wallet he stole from someone for all he knew. His memory was compromised. This much he knew. CRRC. He knew the company. They were the largest train manufacturers in the world. He moved to a small door that opened into a washroom that contained among other things, a mirror. He smiled. He was in fact, Joseph Allen. He was an employee. He looked at the ID closer. He was a designer. A flash of memory shook him. He designed this train. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Fuck!” he almost said out loud.

He moved to the cabin door. There was a peephole. He peeped. He didn’t recognize the man on the other side. That didn’t mean much at the moment. If he didn’t know who he was, it stood to reason that he wouldn’t recognize this person. He opened the door a bit. The man impatiently pushed the door opened and moved into the cabin. He was a train conductor. It was a bit crowded but he backed up slightly to make room for the man.

“Mr. Allen. We have a problem. The train isn’t making stops. Someone has jammed the door to the dining car door that leads to the locomotive. Someone will have to see what has become of the engineer.” the conductor said. He was calm but it was artificial. Joseph nodded. This was enough for the conductor. He turned and was gone just as quickly as he had arrived.

**

The car adjacent to the communications car situated just two away from the locomotive had been transformed into a makeshift bunker. Tables that had once been used for dining had been moved and stacked to one side of the car. Anyone attempting to enter from the rear would be prevented from doing so as a result of this unconventional stacking.

***

Given the speed of the train and the distance it could travel, a command center had been set up at the Chicago station. In the event that the train could not be stopped, they had cleared the line for another hundred miles. They could route the train in a circle if needed. They just didn’t know if the train could remain on the rails given the speed and the arc of the curves.

“From the top. What do we know? What don’t we know?” Special Agent Fred Michels said.

A rookie fresh out of the academy spoke up. Agent Jared Lincoln was twenty-six and working to make a name for himself.

“Amtrack number 2342 left Grand Junction, Colorado at two PM yesterday afternoon. It traveled uneventfully for a full day and a half before missing two stops and disregarding two red signals. Intelligence reports confirm that there is a donor heart on the train slated for the selected recipient. The name of which has been withheld for obvious reasons.” he paused. The train is believed to be a runaway at this point.” he finished.

“Our guy, Darryl Trent; has he tried to make contact?” Special Agent Michels asked.

“No. Not to my knowledge.” Agent Lincoln replied.

“Ok. I want an HSRT team on that train within the hour.” Special Agent Michels said.

“What about the passengers?” Agent Lincoln asked.

“They are our first priority of course.” Special Agent Michels said, “Let’s move!”

****

Dana Secore was seated in her cabin. She was worried. The train hadn’t stopped at her stop and she had been told that there was a problem at the station and that they would stop in Chicago so that they could change trains. For some reason, her cell phone didn’t get service. She had asked around to see if she could use another passenger’s cell but had been met with the same results. No signal. She glanced over at the cooler sitting on the floor of the small space. It was hard to believe that she was responsible for the life of another person. She felt the weight of this responsibility, although she told herself, it wasn’t really her that was responsible. Too many factors were at work. Her job was to see that the organ made it to its destination. The fact that the train had missed the stop was out of her control. She jumped a bit when the washroom door opened. Darryl Trent the agent assigned to her for protection emerged.

“Still no service?” he asked. She nodded.

“There must be some problem with the service on the train,” he said. “I’m going to make my way to the communication car.”

*****

Joseph paced in the small space. What was he doing on the train? A train that he designed more than thirty years ago. He tried to make a call to his wife. No signal. That was odd. The train had wireless Internet and cellular phone service through a satellite link. It was a newer innovation…a jolt of memory hit him hard. He sat down. The Maglift Bullet Train. It was his design. His project…his memory was faulty. He couldn’t be sure what was real anymore. Was he losing his mind? What was he doing on this train? Why wasn’t it stopping at scheduled stops…he felt the blood rush from his face. His reflection would be ashen for certain. He remembered why he was here.

******

Sasha Allen was worried. Her husband was missing. She had called his brother. She was waiting to exhaust all other avenues before phoning the police. He was suffering from stage three Alzheimer’s. CRRC was forcing him into retirement and she knew he was upset. If he had just wandered off, calling the police would be an embarrassment. If he was acting on the ramblings he had been shouting about lately…she swiped up on her cell phone and dialed 911.

********

The HSRT team had been deployed out of Chicago. The helicopter made its way as the crow flies toward a train that was moving toward it at a speed of one hundred miles an hour or more. Their top speed was around one hundred and sixty miles per hour. It would be dangerous, but they would be able to board the train. Alex Hunter was the team leader.

“Intel shows a window of six minutes with no obstructions for us to make the jump. Parker, I want you to lead Macy and Graves toward the rear of the target car. Collin, you are with me.” Hunter said.

“Why are we going in with no lethal rounds?” Macy asked.

“We shouldn’t be met with much resistance. There is a disgruntled employee that has hijacked the train. Advanced Alzheimer’s patient according to the report.”

“Piece of cake…” Graves added.

*********

Darryl left Dana Secore in the cabin and made his way down the narrow corridor to another cabin a few doors down.

“Get ready. By now they have an HSRT team headed this way. When they secure the train, protocol will have them stop the train and we will be priority. Play it cool and we will drive away with the package and meet up with our contact and deliver the organ on schedule.” he said to the three men that were hired in the event things didn’t go according to plan.

**********

A flash of memory rocked Joseph’s head. He remembered a knock at the door. An agent. “What was his name?” Joseph thought. “Trent.” he said out loud. “He fucking drugged me!” he thought. He was beginning to piece things together. “Oh God!” He thought. “People are going to think I’m responsible.”

He moved toward the cabin door.

“I have to tell someone.” he thought to himself. He opened the door and exited the relative safety of the cabin. There was no telling who this Trent character had on the train. He thought he heard what sounded like a helicopter. As he opened the door to his cabin Two men armed with assault rifles closed in from both sides of the car he was in.

“Don’t move!” Parker shouted. Joseph put both hands up.

***********

“We have a problem,” Graves spoke into the radio. “Our primary target has informed us that an agent Trent with the F.B.I. may be our bad actor.”

“Roger that. We have secured the locomotive. No resistance as expected, but something doesn't feel right.” Parker replied. “I’m bringing the train to a stop. I’m going to see if there are comms to address the passengers.”

A moment later, Parker came over the speaker system threaded throughout the train. Once the train had come to a stop, first responders and local law enforcement moved in as close as they could get to the train. They were only a few hundred feet away. Dana and Darryl remained on the train momentarily. If all went as planned, they would be escorted to their getaway vehicle.

************

Parker spoke into the radio. “Agent Trent is in custody. Our team will escort Dana Secore and her package to Brighton.”

“Copy. EMTs are transporting Joesph Allen to Chicago Memorial Hospital. His wife is in route.”

Parker was on edge. Something about the open and shut nature of the hijacking didn’t seem right. No sooner than the thought had passed through his brain a black Tahoe broke through the corn that lined the side of the road leading into the city and slammed into their black Tahoe. Both vehicles “bounced” off each other as side-impact airbags deployed. Parker exited the vehicle, his AR at the ready. Rat-a-tat-tat. Gunfire. Two men opened fire on Parker’s position. Dana Secore, eyes forever open, clutched the handle of the cooler that held the heart that was slanted for transplant. Blood ran slowly down the side of her head. Parker returned fire.

“We’re under attack!” he yelled into the radio. Rat-a-tat-tat. Bullets made dull thuds into metal. A spark and the Tahoe that held the attackers exploded. One man that had been laying down suppressing fire ran wildly into the fray, engulfed in flames. Graves and Parker put him down with a spray of bullets center mass. The other man threw his weapon down and put his hands up. The driver of the attacking vehicle had been knocked unconscious from the crash and could be seen burning in the driver's seat. Parker returned to their Tahoe.

“Organ is secure! Transport agent is down. I repeat Transport agent is down. Send backup.” Parker said.

*************

Parker spoke to Alex Hunter.

“So, the official report is that Special Agent Darryl Trent was paid by an as of yet, unknown third party to secure the heart for transplant. He used the stage three Alzheimer’s of the train’s designer as a decoy to facilitate the theft. Seems like an awful lot of work just for a few more years of life. What do you make of all this?” he asked.

“My daughter’s life is worth it.” He said.

“Huh?” Parker said just as Alex Hunter put a bullet in his head. He picked up the cooler and began walking toward Chicago.