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The air was thick with fog that rolled off the nearby river in waves. It clung to the rusted iron of the fences of the train yard, dampening the symphony of the distant city until the only noise that remained was the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of wooden crates being loaded into the back of a car.
Danny checked her pocket watch for the fourth time that minute. The pure gold casing caught the little light that shone through the dull, gray dusk.
“Move with purpose, people!” Danny yelled, snapping the watch shut. She was wearing a grease stained trench coat that looked like it came from a dumpster, but the dress shirt underneath was pristine with a high popped collar “We’ve got forty five minutes to get back before the guests arrive.”
“We’re working on it boss,” Bee chirped. She was perched on a stack of crates labeled ‘‘FERTILIZER’, swinging her legs. She held a crowbar that looked large in her hands, eyeing the crates. “Just let me open one, we can make sure the product is good. Quality control.”
“Put the crowbar down, Bee,” Ace sighed. He was leaning against the hood of the car, polishing a pair of sunglasses with a handkerchief. It was very overcast and nearly dark, but Ace wore the glasses anyways.
“Why are you both just standing there,” Danny said, “Will you two help Bread so we can get outta here?”
Bread, the large man in a dark trench coat walked past them. He carried a stack of three crates filled to the brim with the finest of contraband whiskey. “I think you should get in on this too, Danny.” Bread huffed, dropping another crate down onto the bed of the car. It groaned under the weight, Ace wondered if it might buckle.
Danny rolled her eyes and made her way towards the crates, “We’ve been loading for six minutes,” she muttered, her boots crunching in the gravel. “If we get stuck in traffic on the way back, I’m killing all of you. I promised Monkey a show. We don't just get to keep the mayor waiting if we want to stay in business.”
“Well, I think the mayor will appreciate good whiskey,” Ace noted, sliding his glasses onto his face. He turned his head towards the perimeter fence, squinting into the distance. The movement was small and birdlike.
"Almost done," Bread rumbled, hoisting the final crate.
"Good," Danny said. "Bee, get in the car. Bread, don't slam the trunk, the suspension is already about to give. Ace, get behind the wheel and-"
Ace held up a hand. "Quiet."
"What?" Danny demanded, hand drifting toward the gun inside her coat.
"There’s engines," Ace said softly.
The floodlights hit them. Three distinct pairs of blinding white headlights pierced through the fog, pinning the four of them against the side of the car. Shadows stretched out long and jagged behind them.
"POLICE!" A voice through a megaphone screeched, the voice distorted into a metallic bark. "HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM! YOU ARE SURROUNDED!"
"Oh, for the love of-" Danny didn't finish the sentence. A gunshot cracked from the light, wizzing and crashing into the side of the car.
"Get down!" Ace yelled, dropping into a crouch.
The rail yard erupted. Bullets chewed up the gravel around their feet and shattered the cars side mirror and passenger window.
Danny hit the ground hard behind the rear tire, mud splashing up her coat. She pulled her coat tighter around herself.
Bread had already dropped into a crouch in front of Bee, shoulders hunched as bullets clattered against the car. He gave a side glance at Danny, who was seemingly trying to wrap herself in a cocoon.
“Do you know how much this shirt cost?” Danny spat, “I don’t want to get it muddy.”
“Now?” Bread said back, too calm. “You’re worried about that now?”
Ace was already moving. He slid on his stomach through the mud, positioning himself under the rear of the car. He breathed out, aimed his pistol through the wheel well, and fired three shots.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Half of the headlights on the ridge shattered, plunging their left side back into darkness.
"We can't drive out!" Ace shouted over the gunfire. "They’ve got a blockade at the gate! We're sitting ducks!"
Danny looked at her watch. 7:25 PM. "We are leaving. Now."
"The car?" Bread asked, flinching as a bullet ricocheted off the trunk latch.
"Leave it!" Danny ordered.
"But the booze!" Bee shrieked, sounding more offended than scared. She scrambled out from under Bread’s arm and lunged for the open trunk. "We can't leave the babies behind! They’re vintage!"
"Bee, get down!" Danny roared. Cursing under his breath, Ace pulled himself up and began to cover Bee with returning fire.
"I can carry them!" She grabbed a loose crowbar and pried the top crate open amidst the bullets, wood splinters flying into her hair. She grabbed two bottles by the neck and stuffed them into her deep coat pockets, then grabbed two more, clutching them to her chest. "I’m taking the good stuff!"
The police were advancing. They were going to be overrun in under a minute at this rate.
Bread looked at Danny, then at the incoming police line. They were completely surrounded, and they both felt the situation getting a bit more serious.
Suddenly, a low howl cut through the cacophony of gunfire. It was the whistle of the 7:30 freight train to Chicago, rumbling down the parallel track behind a warehouse.
Ace’s head snapped up. "That’s our exit."
"The train?" Danny shouted, ducking as a bullet shattered the cars windshield. "I am not jumping onto a moving vehicle!"
"It's the train or a prison cell, Danny!" Ace said back. He moved behind their now destroyed vehicle, firing two shots toward the advancing police line to force their heads down. "Go."
Danny looked at the train, then at her watch. "I hate this job," she hissed.
"Go!" Bread bellowed, his voice booming like a cannon. He joined Ace with a handgun, trying to keep the approachers at bay.
Danny scrambled up, clutching her coat. Before she could move, Bee shoved five bottles of whiskey onto her which she clumsily hugged to her chest. She broke into a sprint, her trench coat flapping behind her. Bee was right on her heels, the bottles clinking in her pockets, cackling maniacally as she ran.
"Don't drop the goods!" Bee screamed, hurling a railway.
They hit the gravel embankment. The train was picking up speed, it was almost moving faster than them now.
Ace was the first to make contact. He holstered his weapon and timed his jump with the rhythm of the wheels, and leaped onto a flatbed car. He landed in a crouch, immediately spinning around and extending a hand.
"Bee! Drop the bottles!"
"Never!" Bee yelled. She threw herself at the flatbed. Ace caught her by the back of her coat, hauling her up just as her feet left the ground. She rolled onto the wood planks, clutching the alcohol to her chest.
"Danny!" Ace shouted.
Danny was faltering. Her boots were slipping on the wet gravel. She lunged for the rusty ladder of a passing boxcar, her fingers scrabbling against the cold iron. She missed the first rung.
"No!" Danny gasped desperately.
A hand shot out from the ladder above her. Ace had leaped from the flatbed to the boxcar, hooking one arm through the loop of the ladder and reaching down with the other. Their grips met each other as they clasped hands.
"I got you!" Ace grunted, the strain showing on his usually impassive face. He heaved, and Danny scrambled up, finding her footing on the bottom rung.
They were safe. But Bread wasn't.
Bread was still a couple of yards back, lumbering through the mud. He was running, his chest heaving, but the train was outpacing him. The police had reached the embankment, their flashlights cutting through the dark. Bullets kicked up dirt right behind Bread.
"He’s too slow!" Bee yelled, poking her head out of the boxcar door.
Danny looked at Bread, then at the blur of the passing ground. She looked at her watch. Then she looked at Ace.
"Get his other arm," Danny ordered.
Danny hooked her legs around the doorframe of the boxcar, leaning her entire upper body out into the rushing wind. Ace mirrored her, they extended their hands.
"BREAD!" Danny screamed, her voice cracking. "JUMP!"
Bread looked up. He roared, pumping his arms, and threw his entire body at the open door. Danny felt the impact in her shoulder socket.
"Pull!" Ace hissed through gritted teeth.
Danny groaned, pulling with all her strength. "If... you... make us... late..."
With a collective heave, they yanked. Bread scraped over the metal threshold, collapsing onto the floorboards of the boxcar.
A split second later, the train cleared the fence line, plunging them into the safety of the dark woods. They’d escaped.
For a long time, the only sound was the rhythmic chug, chug, chug of train wheels on track and the heavy breathing of four people.
The boxcar smelled heavily of rust and they all checked they hadn’t been cut anywhere. Outside, the rain finally began to fall, drumming against the roof.
Bread rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He patted his chest, checking his vest. "No bullet holes," he wheezed with a small laugh.
Bee sat up in the corner, looking solemnly at her coat pockets. She pulled out three intact bottles and a couple jagged pieces of broken glass. The smell of alcohol filled the small space.
"We lost a soldier," she whispered, pouring a splash of the spilled liquid from her pocket onto the floor. "Rest in peace."
Ace was sitting by the door, watching the treeline blur past. He cleaned his sunglasses on his shirt, put them back on, and then calmly began reloading his magazine. His hands were steady, but his knuckles were white.
Danny stood up. She swayed slightly with the motion of the train, closing her eyes to center herself.
"Twenty minutes," Danny said. “Till we have to be back.”
She reached for the buttons of her trench coat and peeled the mud splattered garment off her body. She balled it up and threw it out the open door into the rainy night.
Underneath, the shirt was somehow still clean. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver comb, running it through her messy hair.
"Ace," Danny said, lifting her chin. "My tie."
Ace holstered his gun and stood up. He walked over to Danny and softly retied the tie into a perfect knot.
"You look like a million bucks," Bee chirped, regaining some of her spirit.
"I better," Danny muttered, clearing her throat.
"We get off at the depot in ten minutes," Danny commanded, staring out at the approaching city lights. "We run the last three blocks. We get in, you guys clean yourselves up, then we hit the floor."
The Royal Flush had settled into its usual nighttime rhythm. Smoke hung low beneath the ceiling fans, carrying the scent of tobacco and expensive perfume. Conversations overlapped in a sea of noise, laughter rising and falling with the clinking of glasses.
Ace sat alone at the bar, one elbow resting on the polished wood, he took a drink of some of the whiskey they’d managed to save. His sunglasses stayed on, the dark lenses reflecting the glow of the stage lights.
The velvet curtains parted.
Danny stepped into the light of the stage, tuxedo sharp, hair perfect, expression calm. No trace of panic clung to her now. The band started playing a jazz tune, and when Danny leaned into the microphone, her voice slid across the room, softening conversations as she began to sing.
Ace’s gaze drifted briefly to Mayor Monkey, seated a few tables from the stage. She looked relaxed, laughing too loud, one arm slung over the back of her chair like the election wasn’t looming over her head.
It was going to be a close one, everyone knew that. Toibi was a populist who ruled with an iron fist, who knows what kind of enforcement that would bring onto their establishment. They needed Monkey to win and Ace hated the uncertainty of it all.
A presence settled onto the stool beside Ace.
Bread let out a long breath and leaned forward, forearms on the counter. “She sounds really good tonight,” he said, watching the stage.
Ace nodded. “She does.”
Bread flagged the bartender and got a drink poured for himself. Across the bar, Bee had already claimed her usual territory, leaning in close to the bartender with a sly grin. She laughed at something they said, twirling a toothpick between her fingers.
Bread followed Ace’s line of sight and snorted. “Think they’ll ever actually get together?”
“Eventually,” Ace said, lifting his glass to his lips to hide his smirk.
Onstage, Danny let the final note of her song hang in the smoky air. As the sound faded, silence lingered for a second before shattering into raucous applause. She offered a slow, practiced bow, flashing a grin. With a final nod to the room, she turned on her heel and stepped out of the spotlight. She exited, and with a heavy, final swish, the red velvet curtains fell closed behind her.