Free Takedown by W. G. Griffiths Page B

fast, carrying nothing but anger. He was a witness and needed to be dealt with, but not in front of a possible trainload
     of witnesses. Hess took one last look—the bag, the torch, the tanks, hoses, jacks—then ran down the gravel embankment toward
     the bird sanctuary, his heart pounding, the jock right behind him. He ran into the trees, stopped and turned to fight, but
     the man hadn’t followed. Instead he’d stayed at the rail and was trying to remove the jacks. Hess cursed that he hadn’t thrown
     the jack lever away and wondered if the rail had enough tension to spring back to its original alignment.
    The train was coming fast, its horn blaring, but it had not hit the brakes. He remembered his research and how it would now
     be tested. Engineers would commonly see people playing on the tracks and typically not break in order to keep on schedule.
     Under normal circumstances a train of this size would need a mile to stop. But if a person on the track were to somehow warn
     the train to stop, they would by law have to hit the emergency brakes, which in the new double-deckers were both electric
     and dynamic. But just a little farther and the train would be beyond the point of stopping before derailment.
    The hero jock yanked one of the jacks free and threw it aside, then went to work on another. Hess cursed, looking back and
     forth from the train to the man sabotaging his sabotage. He started to run back up but stopped, his fingers clenching his
     knife. To stop the jockwould mean exposing himself to witnesses, possibly many. Thinking. As long as one of the jacks remained to hold the rail out,
     the train would derail. The guy would have to remove all four jacks to be successful. But at the rate he was going, all four
     would be gone. Thinking, thinking.
    The gravel.
    Hess dropped his knife and grabbed at egg-sized gravel. The jock, on his hands and knees, threw aside the second jack. The
     horn continued to blast.
    Hess threw as hard as he could, again and again and again. The first couple of rocks missed, but finding range and aim, the
     next few rocks found their target, one hitting the jock in the side of the face.
    “Come on, tough guy,” Hess yelled. “You’ll never make it… but I’m still here!” He threw another rock, hitting the man hard
     in the side.
    The jock, sweaty, dirty, glared at him angrily and went for the third jack.
    “Don’t you want the bad man? Be the hero. They’ll all die and I’ll be gone.”
    While working, the jock kept looking at the train closing fast. He finally stood up and waved desperately for the train to
     stop. The engineer responded instantly. The locking of the brakes was painfully loud, drowning out the horn, causing Hess
     to grimace as sparks lit the undercarriage.
    The jock continued to work frantically, but with the train finally upon him, he jumped away from the track and down the embankment,
     not looking back as the locomotive, horn unceasing, wheels screeching, jumped at the rail split, plowed the gravel and timbers
     until it reached the bridge, then dipped away, falling off the bridge and into Nassau Pond. One of the other passenger cars
     followed theengine, but three others did not, instead, twisting and falling from the track onto their sides.
    Hess cursed. The jock hadn’t ruined everything, but if not for him, the entire train would have gone full speed into the drink.
     Hess had a disposable camera in his front pocket to capture the moment, but couldn’t think of using it with the jock bearing
     down on him like a linebacker. He threw a final rock, hitting the jock in the chest. The muscleman didn’t flinch. His heart
     drumrolling, Hess looked down for his knife. Eyes darting. He didn’t see it.

9
    K rogan had never spent a longer two years since the cursed creator decided time would begin. Not being able to engage in the
     deliciously evil fun and games he had enjoyed for millenniums with his inner circle of kindred spirits was torture