The Root of all Evil

“I don’t like this,” Milo says, moving to the other side of the roof.

“Now you know how we feel every time you talk,” Trix snips back, not bothering to look up from her Beaumont.

“We— Are you referring to yourself as plural again? You should really get that checked out.”

“Sure thing Milly,” she snickers back, using the nickname she knows he hates. “Just tell me the name of the doctor who diagnosed you with frailty and I’ll go see him.”

“Guys,” I butt in before Milo can rebut. “You both don’t seem to grasp the concept of a lookout.”

“You see this,” Milo answers, pointing to the night sky. “I’m looking out.”

“You’re a child,” Trix mumbles, rolling her eyes as she finishes loading up her rifle. “You see anything Six?”

“The train should be in momentarily.”

“So?” Milo asks, looking back up towards the stars.

“They’ll use the steam as a shield,” Trix responds, ignoring Milo.

“I know.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Get in, get money, get out,” Milo interrupts, coming to crouch beside the two of us. “I thought you would know this by now.”

“Something’s different,” she tells me, ignoring Milo’s antics. “I don’t smell smoke, Six.”

“I know,” I answer, thinking for a second. “Go,” I tell her, the only reassurance she needs before holstering her gun and disappearing behind me.

“How come you never send me places, Lucky,” Milo complains, sounding like a hurt puppy.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Right, wouldn’t want Trix down there to hear,” he nags, motioning to where she disappeared to moments prior.

“Just shut up, Milo.”

A flash of light down the railroad. The promise of a train, but no sounds, no smoke. A gunshot pierces the silence from inside the station. And then another, and another. A moment of silence.

“You sent her to kill them?” Milo gasps in horror.

“I’m sure it was necessary...,” I mumble, the words not even believable to my own ears.

A beat passes. Both Milo and I look anxiously towards the train station until the door swings open and a man dressed in a dark grey suit steps out, the tall hat on top of his head blocking his face from view. He takes one step…, another, and another until he reaches the edge of the platform and stands, looking out into the night air.

“Where’s Trix?” Milo whispers to me, asking what I should have been this entire time, after all, why set this man free… unless the gunshots weren’t from her…

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a notebook, turning its pages as if one miss-step and he wouldn’t fall into the tracks below him. “Follow the money,” he states, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear. A whistle suddenly blows, smoke in the distance beginning to form as the train makes its way towards the station fifteen minutes past our allotted time frame. “Time is money, boys,” he calls, alarming us to his knowledge of our whereabouts as he pulls a pocket watch from his lapel. “And fifteen minutes is a lot of time… I mean it takes about half that time for a young girl to die of blood loss.”

My blood goes cold, the night air suddenly seeming to chill me to the bone. I sense Milo’s sudden panic as I stand there, frozen as a statue, looking upon this mystery man.

Milo leaves.

The man bends down.

The man places his book on the platform.

The train gets closer.

The man sets his pocket watch on top of the book.

The train begins to brake.

The man jumps, landing on top of the train tracks, the train only a minute away from entering the station.

The man walks, past the train tracks into the forest beyond towards Ch’ikhi, the train rushing in immediately as he passes, hiding him from view.

“Six,” a voice calls from behind me, breaking my trance. I turn, surprised when I see a wounded (but very much alive) Trix. The creaking of the train station door forces me to turn back as I see Milo open it, run towards the edge of the platform and pick up the book and pocket watch.

“What do we do now?” Trix breathes, her voice faintly shaken, no doubt with the loss of blood in her left shoulder.

“Righty or lefty?” I ask, keeping my eyes on Milo, standing in front of a train whose doors are about to open, being anything but stealthy.

“Ambidextrous when it comes to my pistol,” Trix answers without a beat.

“Then we do what we came here to do,” I take a deep breath. “We rob the train.”