Free Republic of the Living (Novella): Vengeance by Taz Gallaher Page A

would kill the man and
woman who had destroyed his friends.
    He left the soldier’s rifle on the shredded
blankets that covered the big bed.  He still had his long gun and the
little corporal’s pistol.  He would only need one.  On the way out of
the house, he patted Ace’s flanks and stroked the muzzle of Hanrahan’s horse.
 The two animals whinnied in appreciation.  
    He leaned his rifle against the inside wall next
to the gaping doorway and double-checked the pistol.  The clip dropped
from the pistol’s grip and he cleared the chamber. His finger pulled the
trigger and the hammer clicked.  Replacing the clip, he pulled the slide
back and pushed the gun into the back of his belt.  Its reassuring weight
settled against his lower spine.
    “ I’ll see you two soon,” he whispered
to the horses and stepped through the doorway.
    He wrangled the heavy door back into the frame,
tugged it twice, and proceeded to the vacant lot below the tunnel entrance.
   

 
    ******

 
    Mai stopped and raised her hand.  “There it
is.”
    He grinned and nodded.  A hundred yards in
front of them, the dark arch of the tunnel beckoned.  Sweat dripped along
his temples.  His legs were heavy and his back ached.  Chewy leaned
over the wall of the track bed and observed the neighborhood.  Bigger
houses and bigger yards.  A pair of swings drifted back and forth in a
backyard playset.  The streets were hidden under overgrown trees.
 Barely visible beneath the canopy of leaves and tree limbs, a blue
station wagon was cantilevered across the yellowed grass of somebody’s front
yard.  
    “ What do you think?”
 She joined him at the edge of the track.
    He transferred his gaze to the area around the
tunnel.  The gate to the fence circling the vacant lot below the tunnel
was still intact.  Dried-out rivulets from last year’s rains crisscrossed
the parched surface of the hill.  A jay squawked from its hiding spot in
the trees below.
    He twisted his head.  “I don’t hear any
horses.  Ground around the tunnel looks clean.”  He turned to her.
 “Maybe we got lucky.”
    She frowned.  “Just maybe?”
    He straightened.  “These days.   Always just maybe.”
    He trudged beside the rails while she hopped from
one tie to the other, keeping just ahead of him.
    “ Come
on,” she said over her shoulder.  “Have a little faith.  We’re almost
there.”
    He squeezed his lips together before he could say
anything and fixed his eyes on the mouth of the tunnel.  The commuter
train once ran from the valley to the bay, carrying its crowds of businessmen
and secretaries and students to the city across the bay behind them.  The
tunnel connected the sprawling suburbs of the valley to the flatlands of
Oakland.  How long could it be?  A mile, maybe two.  An hour or
less of cool, shaded traveling.  He picked up his speed and she matched
his pace.
    They halted at the verge of the tunnel and
listened.  The thick darkness yielded only silence.  They traded
glances and he pulled the flashlight from his pack.  
    “ If there’s anything in
there,” he whispered.  “I don’t want to turn the light on and get them
started.”
    She slid her machete from her belt loop.
 “I’m quieter.  Let me go first.”
    He nodded and she slinked into the tunnel’s
entrance, her tiny figure vanishing from sight.
    Her sneakers slapped quietly just ahead of him.
 They walked for fifteen or twenty minutes before he heard her stop.
    “ Something ahead,” she
whispered from the darkness.
    He held the bulb of the flashlight against his
palm and flicked it on.  Crouching, he flashed the beam up the tunnel.
 Two trains were stuck next to each other just twenty yards in front of
her.  The sloped nose of one train pointed at them.  The boxy rear of
the other train occupied the right track.  He clicked the light off.
    “ I’m going right,” she
murmured, twisting her head over her shoulder to catch the outline of