Last Stop: Hell's Gate

"Mister? Hey mister, wake up!"

The gunslinger was jostled into consciousness by a rough hand on his shoulder, man-handling his dusty cotton shirt and leather vest. He opened his eyes to see a young man with ebony skin and wide, frightened eyes the color of acorns. He was close enough that the gunslinger could smell the sweat dampening the armpits of his collared shirt.

His gaze fell on a rectangle of paper with a single word pinned to that nice, pit stained shirt.

THIEF

He looked down at his chest at an identical scrap of paper.

His word was NAIVETE.

Five other people all stood in a loose semi circle around where he had been snoozing. Each had their own word pinned to their chest.

"How about we start with names, considering I have no idea where I am or how I got here, and I'm thinking neither do any of you?" The gunslinger got varying degrees of confusion as everyone shook their heads. He was released back onto the bench seat, and given an apologetic look.

"I'm Jeffrey. Jeffrey Jackson. I used to smuggle slaves to freedom for the Underground Railroad. I reckon that’s why I have the word thief.” A look of disgust painted his features, and he directed it to the floor.

“Well I haven’t the slightest idea why I have ‘ADULTERER’. I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life!” This came from a wispy looking woman with feathery blonde hair and bright green eyes. She clutched a glass of what could have been water or vodka to her chest.

A small Hispanic man beside her gave her a pointed look.

“Some would say you did not wait the… appropriate amount of time to mourn the loss of your first husband, Daisy.” The man said quietly.

Daisy looked offended, and then pensive. She also slid her gaze to the floor.

“I’m Howard. I guess I’m probably here because I’m married to Daisy.” The Hispanic man said, looking at the gunslinger who was quietly taking everything in.

A feeble looking old man coughed dryly into a handkerchief and then dabbed the corner of his withered mouth. Pinned to his vest was the word TRAITOR.

“Wilfred Jensen Yokes, at your service.” His voice was gruff and raspy, as if he were getting over a cold. He took a long drink from a glass of what looked like whiskey before continuing. “I can think of only one man who would consider me a traitor.”

“Mr. Ritz.”

Everyone turned to look at the petite young woman with mocha colored skin and kind eyes the color of dark chocolate. Her hands rested on her pregnant belly, and pinned to the collar of her dress was the word HARLOT.

“He’s the only man I’ve ever met that would ever think such an awful thing about me. He thinks I did him wrong. Thinks I stepped out on him. When really I was only a piece of ass. And he’s just angry that another man liked the look of me.” She continued, and then as if as an afterthought said, “Oh yeah. I’m Holly.”

The gunslinger jutted his chin at a handsome young man standing just behind Holly.

“You. What’s your story? Why are you a MURDERER?”

Holly stepped to one side to make room for the man with a mop of jet black hair that stuck every which way off his head. His dark eyes never rested on one spot for very long, and he radiated unease.

“M-my name is Colin. If Mr. Ritz is the one who put us on this train-’cause I reckon that’s what we’re on, a train I mean-” Holly put a gentle hand on Colin’s arm and shushed him quietly. He took a deep, shaky breath and then continued in his heavily southern accent, “I reckon Mr. Ritz believes I killed his son. We were buddies ya see. In the war. And, well… I got to thinkin’ I didn’t want nothin’ more to do with the war. So I left. Deserted, in the eyes of the guv’ment.” Colin took another breath, and dipped his head. His next words were aimed at his feet. “I got word a few weeks after that he had been killed right after I left. Took a cannonball to the belly.”

Holly rubbed the boy’s arm reassuringly.

“If that boy was anything like his father, it was no great loss.”

A commanding voice came from the gunslingers left. He hadn’t even noticed the Native American man standing quietly at his side. Pinned to his work shirt was the word TERRORIST.

Bits of memory began filtering their way into the gunslinger’s head. He had been hired by Mr. Ritz as a mercenary to defend his brand new railway.

“He was well on his way.” Daisy said disdainfully.

Howard shot her a disapproving look but said nothing.

“My name is Ian Living-Tree. I imagine I got the word terrorist for my hand in all of the delays with his latest railway.” He sounded proud, and Wilfred gave a nod of approval.

The gunslinger had another flash of memory. An argument. Mr. Ritz had ordered him to go ahead of the workmen and clear out a native village so it could be plowed through.

He had refused. He’d been fired.

“I did business with him until he decided to drive his railways right through Native territory. I would have no part of it.” The old man said softly. He dabbed his handkerchief at his forehead and leaned heavily against one of the benches. Ian’s stone face gave no inclination of a reaction, but his words he directed to the gunslinger.

“What is your name? What’s your word mean? You know all of ours now.”

The gunslinger sat up and adjusted the dark leather cowboy hat on his head of auburn hair.

“My name is Jasper. I was hired by Ritz to defend one of his railways. I was fired when I wouldn’t clear out the native village he wanted to bulldoze through.” The cowboy gestured to his chest. “I would guess that I have the word ‘naivete’ because I let my morals dictate my work ethic.”

The conversation was abruptly interrupted by a high pitched whine and the popping of static.

“I’m so glad the introductions are finally out of the way. Now we can get to the fun part.” A grating voice came through a primitive looking speaker mounted on the wall near the back of the train car.

There were murmurs of confusion as everyone looked for the source of the voice. Jasper stared directly at the speaker.

“By now I’m sure you have figured out the one thing all of you have in common: our most gracious host, Mr. Charles Stanley Ritz, owner of Ritz Railways." There was a heavy pause, and a palpable tension could be felt by all of the passengers. The voice continued. "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of Mr. Ritz' passing.”

A few sighs of relief could be heard around the room, but it was a fleeting feeling as the voice continued.

“Being as you were all proverbial thorns in his side, he wanted the chance to get in the final word. If you’ll kindly take a look around, you’ll notice that you are riding in a quite luxurious train car.”

Another heavy pause, as everyone took stock of their surroundings. Most everyone had a drink of some kind that they nervously sipped.

“What you haven’t noticed is that this train is on a one way, non-stop trip to Hell’s Gate bridge. A bridge that, I’m sure most of you know, isn't finished being built.”

A panic set in against the passengers, and they all began milling about anxiously. Jasper gripped the edge of the bench he sat on, never taking his eyes from the speaker.

“The reason I’m telling you all this, is because you’re being given a chance to stop it. A chance to step off this train alive… And $50,000 richer.”

Everyone stopped and looked pointedly at the back wall of the train car. The voice behind the speaker laughed jovially.

“I’m so glad to finally have your undivided attention! Because now I’m going to tell you the rules.”

Jasper’s ears pricked up. The train car had become so quiet, the wind could be heard whipping at the windows outside.

“There are five cars between where you all are now and the engine room. You have just about two hours to get from this car to the engine room where the brakes are.” Another pause, for dramatic effect. “Each car will have an obstacle of some kind. Each obstacle must be traversed successfully-” Wilfred cut the speaker off before they could finish.

“I won’t be a part of this, you sick bastard. He’s bluffing, folks! A dead man can’t kill anybody!” He began to wobble where he stood by a bench, and Holly helped him gently into the seat.

Sinister laughter once again erupted from the speaker.

“Oh my dear Mr. Yokes, you’re already playing! The game began the moment all of you woke up. Your first task is to find the drink that’s laced with a fatal amount of arsenic. The test is passed when you find the poison… Or die.” The speaker clicked off for the final time, and sheer panic erupted in the train car. Glasses were dropped or thrown. Voices rose as everyone began talking at the same time, each demanding to be heard.

Jasper’s gaze fell on old Mr. Yokes, and he let out a sharp whistle.

“The poison’s been found.” The cowboy said simply.

Everyone followed Jasper’s line of sight to find Wilfred sweating bullets and looking exceptionally pale. Holly helped him lay down on the bench, and dabbed his forehead uselessly with his handkerchief.

The train car fell as silent as a tomb as the old man coughed a final time, and then stopped breathing.

There was a metallic grinding sound as a door on the opposite end of the train car opened up, revealing the next car.

“Are we just supposed to leave him here?” Holly choked between frightened sobs. Jasper gently guided her away from the body and down the corridor toward the door.

“If we make it out of here, we’ll find a spot and bury him. Right now we need to focus on getting through this alive.”

The group of frightened passengers filed out of the first car and into the second.

This car was dimly lit, and full of dressers, chests and cupboards. They heard the high pitched whine again as another speaker clicked on.

“Congratulations to those in round two! This next game is a simple one. A game of hide and seek, with a bit of a twist. You aren’t searching for a person, but an object.”

The passengers each began poking around the drawers and cabinets.

“The item you’re looking for is a key. Find the key, and you’ll be able to unlock the door to the next room. You have five minutes.” The speaker clicked off unceremoniously.

The passengers latched on to different items in the train car. Colin went to the wardrobe, Holly took the chest of drawers, Daisy and Howard searched the cabinets, Jeffrey went to the large trunk, and Ian poked through a vanity. Jasper took the only item remaining, a massive dining hutch.

The car was quiet for what felt like a long while, when suddenly a cheer came from the far corner of the room.

“You guys, I found it!” Colin was standing in front of the open wardrobe, looking at a key hanging behind the rack of clothing by a piece of twine.

Colin’s hand was wrapped around the key to pull it from the wardrobe as Jasper cried out for him to stop.

The piece of twine pulled taut.

A hidden compartment opened.

A single gunshot erupted from the wardrobe.

The women screamed, and Colin turned toward the group.

Dark crimson blood bloomed into his shirt from his stomach that was peppered with buckshot. He took a step forward, whimpered once, and then he was dead before he hit the floor. The metallic grinding sound signifying a second door opening was followed closely by the high pitched whine from the speaker.

“A fitting end for the boy given his crime, don’t you all think? Why, I couldn’t have planned that better myself!” The voice boasted. Holly and Daisy held each other and cried. The men stared stone faced at the speaker on the wall, mocking them. “The next one is a personal favorite. Come come, you haven’t got all day.”

No one had anything witty to say as they all filed into the next room. The game setup here was pretty obvious. It was an empty room, except for five simple wooden chairs arranged in a large circle.

“Now I know you all remember this from your primary school days. What we have here is musical chairs.” A haunting, tinkling melody began to play over the voice’s final words.

“Don’t be the last one standing up.”

The music got louder as everyone formed a line and walked slowly around the circle of chairs. The group made two laps around the circle before the music suddenly cut off.

There was a breath of silence before chaos erupted. Everyone dove for a chair. Jasper claimed the first one, then Holly, Ian and Howard. Jeffrey put his hand on the final chair at the same time that Daisy did.

There was a very tense moment between the ex slave and the housewife.

“I’m not letting go of this chair.” Daisy said stubbornly, and placed her knee in the seat of the chair.

Jeffrey’s grip tightened and he also placed his knee in the seat of the chair. The two were practically nose to nose.

“Neither am I.” Jeffrey said simply.

The high pitched whine sounded and the speaker clicked on.

“Well this is boring.” The voice whined.

Daisy lifted her chin, but her gaze never left Jeffrey’s.

“You’re going to have to kill both of us!”

Howard cried out for his wife, and the voice gave a chuckle.

“Well, if you insist.” A rush of air signified a hatch opening in the roof of the train car. There was a short mechanical whirring, and then the small space erupted with rapid gunfire.

Jeffrey and Daisy both were barraged with bullets.

Holly hid her face in Jasper’s shoulder and screamed. Howard jumped from his chair as the Gatling gun retreated back into the ceiling.

“No! No you bastard, not her!” Howard jumped up on his chair and grabbed a hold of the gun. It struggled to return to its home, and the group heard the whine from the speaker.

“Now Howard, you should know the most important rule of any ride.” A low whirring started up again. “Keep your hands and feet inside the cabin at all times.” The gun fire was muffled into Howard’s chest, but the outcome was still the same. Jasper had to drag Holly screaming through the door into the next room.

“Well, well. Only three of you left. This is moving right along, isn’t it?” This room was full of bookcases and tables covered in papers.

“The rules for this room are disguised as a riddle.” There was a dramatic clearing of the throat. “Never judge one by their clothes, nor a book by its cover; for within those withered pages, there is much for you to discover. You have three minutes.” The speaker clicked off without another word.

Ian went straight for a bookcase and began throwing books to the floor, searching for a compartment hidden in the stacks. Holly took a moment to compose herself, and then began picking up Ian’s discarded books and flipping through the pages. Jasper ran over the riddle again in his head.

“Pages…” Jasper murmured, and then it clicked. “The pages, not the books! The answer is in the pages on the table!” The three went to the table and began sifting through the random writings and scraps of notes.

“What exactly are we even looking for?” Holly asked as she pulled open a drawer. Inside was a royal purple silk shirt.

“Never judge one by their clothes…” She murmured as she lifted the shirt from the drawer. Something crinkled between the layers of fabric. Holly unfolded the shirt and produced a map as a bell began to sound, signifying the time running out. Holly studied the map of Ritz’s railways, and Ian had picked up a book that had been in the way of a stack of papers. Jasper was empty handed. The speaker clicked on again, and the voice began laughing.

“Very good Holly, you found the key to surviving. Ian,” the voice made a disappointed noise, “The answer isn’t always found in a book. So sorry, you lose.” Holly shrieked as the piece of floor that Ian was standing on suddenly collapsed underneath him. He was swiftly pulled through the floor and seemingly underneath the train onto the tracks. The piece of floor quietly replaced itself as if nothing had happened.

“Congratulations to the final two! Well, isn't this interesting?” There was a light applause before the voice continued. “Only one of you can win, though. Who’s going to stop the train?” The next door slid open, and it seemed to be slower than all the ones that came before.

The gunslinger let Holly go in first, and he was at her heels. When the door was closed behind them, Jasper pulled Holly against him.

“I’m not going to let you die.” He murmured in her ear. Holly sank against his chest and whimpered weakly.

“How are you going to stop it?” She whispered into his neck.

Jasper took stock of the room they were in as he held her. The first thing he noticed was how much louder it was in this room than all the others. It was so loud, it sounded like they were in the engine.

“Holly. We’re here. I think this is it. Do you hear how loud it is here? We must be at the front of the train.” Holly sniffed and wiped her eyes, turning to look at their surroundings. The high pitched whine of the speaker could be heard even through the roar of the engine.

“Congratulations Jasper, you are correct. You have come to the final test. The objective here is deliciously simple. Pull the lever, and stop the train.” The voice let out a chuckle that was almost lost in the noise.

This room was significantly smaller than all the other rooms before. The only thing in this room was a large lever coming out of the floor on the far side.

“Pulling the lever almost seems too easy…” Holly mused as the pair crossed the room to examine it.

Jasper wrapped his hand around the handle of the lever, but hesitated.

“Oh come now Jasper," the voice chimed in, "what have you got to lose? After all, you’re just two lost souls on a runaway train…”

Jasper pulled back hard on the metal rod, and a ghastly metallic squeal overtook the chuff-chuffing of the engine.

The pair jolted suddenly as they began to feel the train slowing down.

“Jasper, you did it!” Holly did a joyful hop and hugged her arms around the gunslinger’s neck. A pit of unease began to form in his stomach.

That was too easy.

“Runaway train…” The cowboy murmured, a moment of horrifying clarity coming over him.

The voice began to laugh maniacally. The speaker cut itself off as another sound came through the metallic squealing of the brakes. A mechanical whir had started up, and Holly went from leaning against Jasper’s chest to standing at arm's length.

“The floor!” Holly shrieked, and pointed at their feet.

The engine car had separated from the rest of the train. Jasper released Holly’s hands as he realized that she was slowing down, while he was picking up speed again.

“Jasper, what are you doing?! Jump across!” Holly reached out for him, but Jasper had already made his decision.

“No! I told you I wasn’t going to let you die. You’re the winner, Holly! Take the money and have a good life with your baby!”

Holly reached for him again, and her fingers brushed his palm. He squeezed her hand a final time, and then he shoved her hard away from the edge. She stumbled, lost her balance, and fell on her butt safely on the stopping train car.

Jasper tipped his hat to her, and rode the train engine over the edge of the unfinished bridge into the chasm below.