Author's Note: Sorry for the delay with this chapter and thanks to everyone who is reading and who has reviewed. I hope I can continue to make things interesting.-Geek


Chapter 4

The car door opens and the man that nearly put a bullet through his head during the fire exits first. In the middle of the backseat sits Tony. He stays still for a short while, but soon the other man sitting on the other side of him starts to shove him from the side indicating he better get out of the car, and quickly.

Now outside, Tony takes in his surroundings. Standing in front of a large building, his expression increases with worry as he notices how old everything around him is.

"Move." Says one man.

Without any warning, the two men grab a hold of Tony's arms and man-handles him until all three are standing behind the abandoned train station and next to its abandoned tracks.

Trying to get himself free by jerking against their hands, the men only grip him tighter and push him nearer to the tracks.

Grunting for a second, he then huffs and a small cloud of smoke can be seen in the cold air. Seconds later a frigid gust of wind finds them and the coldness nips at Tony's bones.

"Either we get back in the car or we're going to freeze to death."

Tony's remark goes unheard.

Looking at both men he notices that over their dark suit's they are wearing thick trench coats and scarves. Soon he notices their hands that are still holding his arms tightly; covered with black leather gloves to protect themselves from the cold and leaving any kind of fingerprints.

Looking ahead of him he tries to find a clearing through a congested wooded area, but finds no luck in seeing through to the other side. This kind of realization gives him a quick sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach because it not only rings true for the moment, but for the future of his life.

With his stomach feeling weak, he hunches over a little causing his line of sight to fall on the rusty railroad tracks by his feet.

His mind begins to race and he feels the unfamiliar feeling of feeling panicky. Clearing his throat, he takes such a deep breath that the two men take notice to this new reaction. Stepping a little further away from him, but keeping their hold on him, they stare at him and look as if they are waiting for him to become sick.

"Make sure a spec of your spit doesn't touch my shoes." One man bitterly growls.

Desperately taking another gulp of fresh air, he feels his stomach begin to twist and turn itself over. Trying to swallow, he feels that knot in his stomach rising and the warm sweetened flavor starting at the back of his throat. Trying to free his arms again, he fails and soon his body lurches forward, but nothing comes out of his mouth, but a sick sound.

The men look at one another before one lets one of Tony's arms go. Pulling out his cell phone, he walks away a little to make a call.

"When was the last time you had anything to eat?" The one that still holds him asks.

"…an hour before the fire." Tony's voice is small and without life.

Sighing, the man motions for the other to come back over to him. Once there he delivers the answer Tony just gave him. Both men look back at the car, then motion for the driver to bring the car closer to them.

Once the car is there its truck is popped open by the driver still nestled inside the car. One of the men reaches inside and opens up a tiny cooler full of what looks to be like their lunches for the day. Noticing the food, Tony's stomach both yearns for a bite and refuses a bite.

"Sit down." The man orders, then pushes Tony down on the dirty ground before he can even think to follow through to the order.

Tearing the wrapper off of one of the sandwich wraps, he trusts it in Tony's open and shaky hand that lay against the dirt ground.

"Eat." The man that pushed him down says.

"I don't think…I should…" Tony says, but his hand is nearing to his mouth slowly. Opening his mouth he takes such a big bite it seems as if he inhaled the portion of the sandwich that is inside of his mouth.

The men shoot each other an annoyed look, but let him continue to eat anyway knowing that if they do not, there will be no way to successfully put him on the train without people growing suspicious.


The last thing Tony wanted to do was to sleep, but the warmth of the train and the comfort of the seat lulled him away to a dreamless one anyway.

Opening his eyes slowly, he notices a man staring at him. The same man that he was discreetly handed over to when the train arrived. Looking down at his hands he sees that they still are slightly shaking, probably from low vital signs, stress, and fear. Looking slightly over his shoulder he takes note to a handful of people; all which look as if they've lived in the sticks all of their lives.

Taking in his attire for the first time he realizes that he's dressed as they are; easy to blend in with, he figures, and no means for suspicion. His beige thermal shirt and his warn jeans go nicely with his scuffed sneakers and filthy laces, and it is at this moment where he hopes that the underwear he is wearing is not only clean, but brand-new and straight out of the package.

Through the windows he can see acres of land with scattered farm houses in the far-away distance. Still, his coordinates are unknown to him and he figures that though he very well could still be in the Northeast, he could be heading more North than East.

Outside looks as if the temperature is dropping more and more as the train carries on from the small clusters of cattle he keeps seeing and the ground that is losing its shades of green and becoming shades of brown. Even the trees around him are losing their leaves, leaving only evergreens visible to the naked eye.

A slight chill creeps up his spine and causes him to stop focusing his attention outside the window. His attention now lies on the fourth mysterious man he has seen in less than twenty-four hours. Watching the man, he takes note to the same coldness in his eyes as the other three and tries to prepare himself for all the troubles he will find with this one; it is inevitable.


The wheels of the train are not in motion anymore, but the wheels in Tony's mind keep going as he tries his best to piece together a way to escape. A task that has already proven itself to be extremely difficult as all of its consequences point in the negative direction.

Looking at the empty seats around him, he wonders where the butch man that looks after him disappeared to. Needing to stretch his long legs, he puts his still unsteady hands on the top of the back of the chair in front of him and pushes himself to his feet. His balance is off, but he is still able to stand on his own two feet.

Inhaling, he notices the air is a bit fresher and instantly feels the desire to make a beeline to the train-cars exit where he can fling himself out into the open and scream to anyone that will listen. Sadly as soon as he takes a step further, the fresh air becomes icy as the man returns with a look much uglier than before.

"The train has stopped." Tony reports the obvious in hopes to possibly get anywhere with this particular man. "Where are we?"

The man keeps his mouth closed as he fishes for his cigarette case inside his pocket. Though dressed like the average civilian, which isn't much, wherever they may be, he still carries same cigarette case as the man who was out for Tony's blood.

Opening his mouth again, Tony wishes to speak, but he holds back as he realizes he very well could be wasting his breath. Thinking to himself, he decides to ask a different kind of question.

"Would it be possible to get something to eat or drink?" He makes a small motion to the space inside the train-car. "I know there isn't anybody else on here and there might be when the train starts moving again, but…I've got to put something in my system." He pauses momentarily. "It's mandatory."

The man shakes his match until the flame goes out. Reaching into his pocket he takes out his cigarette case again. "Cigarette?"

"No." Tony says quickly. "I need something to eat or drink."

The question seems so absurd to Tony, but he can not help it any longer. It is not about escaping or thinking of a way to escape, or about him being in great danger, but it is about putting something in his system to stop the shaking feeling he has. Something to give him strength as his early dinner and his several drinks afterwards, the night before, have completely warn off at this point.

The man puts his cigarette case away and studies Tony while taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

"I can't succeed in this mission if I'm not fed." Tony insists; his voice slightly frantic.

The man takes a drag, then looks over his shoulder.

"Meals aren't served on these kind of trains, but let me see if the conductor is willing to spare some of his dinner." Approaching Tony, he reveals a pair of handcuffs and slaps them on both of Tony's wrists while connecting them to the metal handle of the seat.

Looking down at this new kind of restraint, Tony breaks into a tiny sweat. As soon as he thinks his situation can not get any worse, it does, and he is left slightly stunned and defeated.

Falling down into his chair he discovers that the warmth his behind created all the while sitting has vanished; leaving the cushion beneath him cold and uncomfortable. Taking another look out the window he sees snowflakes dance in the air and a single approaching car with what he hopes to be new passengers eager to board the oldest train in history.

Any company at all is good company at this point…