Page 2 of Freedom Fighters
She stuck her tongue out at him when he turned back.
The current camp was a mile south of the rail line and almost directly due east of the town, Cerro Ciudad. It was too close to Cerro Ciudad, yet it was in an unexpected place. They had been camped there fornearly two months and hadn’t seen a single patrol.
The Insurrecto patrols swept farther east into the flatlands. They didn’t seem to think a Resistance camp at higher elevations was possible. Either that, or they were too lazy and didn’t want to scramble around the knees of the mountains looking for them. Whatever the reason, it made life easier for Garrett’s unit.
As they drew farther awayfrom the town, they relaxed their guard. Angelo fell back to the end of the line, where Carmen was checking their rear. He smiled at her.
He was a typical Vistarian—tall, with clear olive skin, black hair and eyes and a nice smile. Carmen smiled back at him. He was a good fighter and he took care of her in bed. It wasn’t his fault she often felt fifty years older than him, even though they werethe same age.
“I found some coffee in that village we passed yesterday,” Angelo said. “I thought we could make spiced coffee when we get back.”
“We don’t have any nutmeg. Or ginger or cloves,” Carmen said. She spoke in a soft murmur. Her feminine voice was pitched higher and traveled farther, or so Garrett had warned her, more than once. “Although, I like coffee straight,” Carmen added.
Angelogrimaced. “American style,” he said, with a sniff.
Carmen laughed. “American style coffee got me through five years of college.”
“Miss Brainiac,” Angelo teased, using the English word. It was one of the few he knew.
Garrett whistled to get their attention. He held up his fist.
They halted, listening hard.
After forty seconds, Carmen heard what Garrett had detected. A train was coming fromthe south.
“Unscheduled,” Angelo breathed.
She nodded. An unscheduled train could mean many things, but for sure, the Insurrectos were behind it. They let nothing run on the tracks without their say-so.
Garrett waved them closer, so he could talk without shouting. They gathered around.
“Let’s hitch a ride and find out what’s on that train,” Garrett proposed. “Go.”
Carmen ran at as close toa full sprint as she could manage, heading downhill toward the tracks which glinted through the trees, just ahead. There was no danger of being heard with a train clanking and groaning.
The others were doing the same as Carmen, spreading out as they moved. This was a familiar task to the unit. They had hitched and raided many trains, usually at a profit.
It was good to move freely. Carmen leaptand scrambled down the hill, enjoying the sensation of her body working hard. She was fitter now than she had ever been in her life, thanks to hiking, running, fighting and climbing hills. For the first few weeks with the unit, everything had felt like it was uphill. Now, she barely noticed the inclines.
They were going to time it nicely. The train pulled around the wide bend and came into view.She angled her approach to the tracks, heading north so she was running alongside the train and inside the trees. It would let her emerge into the open once the engine’s driver had passed.
There were only two cars attached to the train, both of them boxcars. They were harder to latch onto, but not impossible. Carmen burst out of the trees, her boots digging into the rocky aggregate around thetracks. She leaned in toward the first car, aiming to grab the long handle on the door.
“Above! Above!” Garrett cried. “Duck!”
Carmen already had a grip on the door handle. It was pulling her along. The train was moving at a crawl because of the slope, although it was faster than she could run on the rocks that lined the tracks. She was committed.
She hauled herself up and put a foot on thefloor that projected from beneath the door a few inches. Behind her, Angelo grunted as he did the same with the other car.
Machine gun fire ratcheted, right over her head. Carmen sucked in a surprised breath and hugged the door. Behind her, she heard the characteristic bellow of Garrett’s heavy duty .45.
A wheezy cough sounded from the top of the car. Carmen tightened her grip as a man wearingthe mottled gray of the new Insurrecto uniforms fell past her, brushing her shoulder and thudding onto the rocks. His machine gun followed.
Carmen was a good marksman with a handgun and getting better all the time. Garrett, though, was far, far better. Damn him. No one else in the unit could have made that shot.
More submachine gun fire burst right overhead.Twoguards? What the hell? What didthey have in this thing that justified two guards on the roof? Anyone would think they were afraid the Resistance might try to hijack the train.
Gripping the vertical rail next to the sliding door of the box car, Carmen pulled out her Smith & Wesson and cocked it, then raised it to point at the roof. Carefully, she leaned outward, until she could see over the lip of the roof.
