A/N: First story. ^^ I hope it's okay since I'm trying to practice writing again. Please enjoy.
Refugium
Chapter One: Steel
Once again, a harsh jolt rushed through the entirety of the speeding train before being cut off by the final cart. An uncomfortable but common occurrence caused by inconsistent steel belts, poor planning in design, and flat out human laziness. The Transcontinental Railroad. A publically referred "crowning achievement" of man privately understood as being a faulty, unsafe, unsanitary piece of worn out metal. Three steps forward, four steps back.
And yet, in some unexplainable way, to the travelers heading towards the quaint town of Colby, Texas, all this could be overlooked. Uneven tracks slamming against solid wheels were a small inconvenience for quick arrival, screeching gears were muffled by the chorus singing in their seats, and the almost painful jumping due to the speed at which they moved was ignored after a simple readjustment. All of this could be forgiven in the name of progress. Well, except when one was not an average passenger, but rather one of the four men who resided in the holding carriage.
"Nhh."
An aggravated grunt sounded as said carriage rattled against the wind. The despicable conductor jerking his head back and forth in an attempt to gather his fellow rider's attention. Two of these four men ignoring the criminal's annoying gestures while continuing their forced small talk. The weather, the family, headlines, and dreams of the future this train would surely bring to life. Anything that didn't lead to the two law breakers chained behind them.
Two allegedly dangerous criminals who had been riddled with rumors about their wrong-doings. Some true, some exaggerated by locals, news clippings, and one's own first impressions. Butch Cavendish was one of these men. A man who had been imprinted as a ruthless killer, a flesh eater, a thief, and a scummy piece of the earth. He had been riding the rails for some time now and would soon meet his end via hanging. Or so his fellow passenger's believed. However, since his past attempt to grab his captor's minds had failed, he had begun on an alternate plan. His original plan of twisting and tugging on a loose shard that was stuck in a floor board. Slicing and cutting his calloused fingertips as a wrinkled grin creased his lips. Twist, turn, twist, turn, twist.
Deep brown eyes watched this unusual phenomenon with a hesitant curiosity. Said eyes belonging to none other than the second criminal in this event. A silent-as-the-grave, war painted native American who had been targeted for being such. His constant chasing of the male he was chained to and his desperate actions had finally caused the law to apprehend him. However, even though his crimes were minimal by comparison, he too bad become a rumored "bad guy". A crazy, drunken thief, white killer. A list of untrue allegations unlike the charges brought upon his opposite. All of them true and he knew this first hand.
"Hnn?!"
The black and white stained male found himself grunting upon seeing the reward his enemy had just received. With the blood covered shard being tossed aside, the floor board had been lifted to reveal a loaded revolver. Six rounds waiting in the chambers as the madman pressed the barrel to his chapped lips. A silent motion being made for the Indian to remain quiet or face the tip of a bullet.
"Best not make a sound, Boy."
Angered hues could only watch as the killer buried the weapon in his coat pocket before being unshackled from the darker man. The two guards commanding the criminal to hurry and relieve himself as they would be reaching the station at any moment. Any moment.
However, "any moment" never arrived. No. For, in the following moments that came, the startled Indian witnessed two men meet death by bullets, a barrel that aimed for his own head, a pathetic white man fail at a rescue, his enemy escape, and then having to move both himself and his newly shackled accomplice to the roof of the never stopping train. A sudden and alarming sequence that drove him to take a moment of silence to comprehend them. Who was this stupid self proclaimed "Attorney"? Why had he allowed himself to be victimized by an outlaw? How could he allow an entire gang of men to escape? And why was he wearing a fitted black suit in the middle of the desert?
"We need to stop this train immediately!"
A weak tug to the metal shackles was issued as the native American rolled his eyes at his companion's attempt. A stronger pull and the two men were headed towards the edge of the moving scrap heap.
"Need to jump. End of track."
Muddy and ocean hues clashed upon Tonto's suggestion. The pale man instantly proclaiming that he had no intention of jumping off while his chained partner continued to chant his own plan.
"Are you insane?! I'm not getting off this train! What of the other passengers?!"
"Not attached to train. Must jump."
"What?"
The once held glare between the duo was momentarily broken. Brown orbs looking forward to see a rapidly approaching sand dune, accompanied by a hard rocky ground. Blue hues, on the other hand, gazed back at the stunned passengers who remained within the unattached cart near the station.
"How did the cart...?"
"We jump now."
A loud snort was the last thing the attorney could muster before his attached companion leapt from atop the roof. His unprepared stance forcing him off alongside the unfazed Indian. A booming crash, a loud thud, a groan of pain, and then silence. Unsettling quiet that brought the shaking attorney to cautiously lift his head from the cracking earth. The derailed train remained on its side against the ground, cheers and screams echoed in the distance, and the once binding shackles were broken.
"I-I'm alive?"
"...Jumped, stupid white man."
