The locomotive sped along the tracks. It felt much lighter without its carriages. But of course a mere collision course wasn't enough. So, looking ahead to make sure the time and distance were just right, and taking the gas lamp, John lit the dynamite, which would go off in about a minute or so. Just enough time to put on their coats and jump before the trains would collide and explode.

"The end of the line, Villega," drawled John. "I can't help you now." He casually put on his coat, as Villega watched him, defeated and despairing. "Just close your eyes and jump," said John, helpfully.

Villega didn't have to jump. He could save himself if he wanted to. But, close to tears, he just stood there. After all he'd done there was no way in hell he could have jumped.

"For Christ's sake, save yourself!", cried John as he got ready to jump.

There wasn't any time left. John leapt off the side of a locomotive, rolled down the side of the tracks, and quickly picked himself up, hoping to watch Dr. Villega jumping off the train and saving himself at the last second.

The driver of the other train saw only too late the locomotive speeding in the opposite direction. "Dios mio!", he exclaimed. Desperately, the engineers tried to slam the brakes.

On the speeding locomotive, looking blankly out at the train carrying the thousand passengers, Dr. Villega closed his eyes, and braced himself for death.

The trains crashed, and burned, and burst into flames. Pieces of timber went flying. The explosions kicked up dirt everywhere. The remaining carriages screeched to a halt.

Revolutionaries were hiding behind the walls, opening fire at the surviving soldiers who clambered out of their carriages.

Cannons whistled and howled. Gatling guns rattled. The night was lit with blazing fires. Explosions still blew the already damaged train to more pieces.

Once again, Reza had survived the wreckage. Quietly, he snuck out behind the train, only jumping when another explosion went off.

Also hiding in the shadows was John. So quiet and careful was he, that Juan, who was firing his own machine gun, nearly mistook him for the enemy. Wordlessly, John motioned for Juan not to shoot.

He smiled with relief. John smiled back. Juan gave John a cheerful thumbs up, even as the battle was raging around them.

The revolutionaries advanced forward, and, stealthily, as did Juan and John.

John hid behind a burning car. He moved into the light to see if there was anyone. Then, as he walked back, a gunshot was heard, and he suddenly bent back over, gritting his teeth in pain. He cursed between his teeth as Col. Reza shot him again and again.

Juan stared in shock and disbelief. Then, with tremendous rage, he opened fire on Reza.

Reza ducked and dodged, as Juan shot at him, almost ceaselessly. The colonel seemed very hard to kill. But Juan's fury was stronger and finally, Reza's body rolled off a ledge, deader than dead.

Groaning and seething, John was still mortally wounded. Juan quickly rushed to his side. He grabbed John, and hauled him behind the burning care, before slumping down, exhausted, by the Irishman.

"Hey..." he whispered, desperately, "Remember what you told me? You told me about America. And the banks... and the gold... like you told me on the train, remember?" This was a promise. A promise that Juan wished would never be broken. "Hey... hey..." Juan forced a smile as he tried to stop John from fading away, tried to keep him awake for as long as he could. "Hey, no, no, no, you son of a bitch. Come on, you son of a bitch. You told me that. And you leave me now? What the fuck is gonna happen to me, ah?" Try as he might, Juan couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes.

Call it partnership, or brotherly love. Call it bromance, even. A promise was a promise.

"They'll make ya a general", said John softly.

"Ah, shit, I don't wanna be a general", said Juan, still forcing a laugh. Pancho Villa could be a goddamn general all he liked, but not him. Not Juan Miranda. He was just not cut out for it...

John started to close his eyes. No, no, no, this can't happen now.

"Come on... talk to me... Talk- keep talking. Talk! Talk to me about Villega. Villega! Remember Villega?"

How could John have not remembered Villega already.

"Vi-llega...", moaned John.

"Si!", said Juan.

"He died. He died a great, grand and glorious... hero of the revolution", muttered John. Then he laughed again, baring those rows of pearly white teeth, almost triumphantly. It had been Villega's penalty, and his chance to redeem himself.

"Okay... easy, easy...", murmured back Juan, setting down the dying John, "I'll go. I'll get help, ah?"

Warily, Juan looked around and started to sneak away to find help.

"General", came John's voice from behind him.

General Miranda looked back at him, a little surprised.

"Have ye a light?", said John, with a cigarette in his mouth.

One last smoke, ah? Well, Juan couldn't argue with that. "Si", he said, affirmatively. He got out his lighter, and lit John's cigarette.

That was when John lifted his hand to reveal...

Juan's crucifix, wrapped around his finger.

Slowly, Juan took it, looking in astonishment at John.

"Oh, my friend", said John, "I just gave ye a royal screwing."

Juan looked like he was about to cry. Sadly, he shook his head.

"I'll go get the help", he whispered. If there was any helping John anymore. As Juan scurried away, John puffed on his cigarette, and smiled wistfully, acknowledging what a good friend Juan truly was, and remembering the times with Nolan and the girl.

Their names had both been Sean. It was just that "John" was anglicised so foreign entities could pronounce or spell it better. He, Nolan, and the girl, Coleen, used to frolic through the fields. He remembered one time they stopped by a tree. Mallory and Coleen kissed passionately. She enjoyed it as far as she could tell. He hadn't noticed that Nolan was bothering them.

As Mallory slowly followed Coleen's gaze as she looked past him, she kissed Nolan, perhaps even more passionately than with Mallory.

Well, it seemed she favoured one Sean over another.

Mallory's smile, his big, toothy grin, began to fade.

Juan sensed something was wrong. He turned around to face the dying Mallory as he was going to get help.

"JOHN!-" he screamed, just as the train car exploded.

Juan watched in despair as the red smoke curled and folded over the train car, darkening and fading away into the night sky. Sean Mallory had died before he could be saved. He himself was the true grand, and glorious hero of the revolution. And people certainly would have had to rewrite maps when he went.

Juan stood there, in silence. Why did this have to happen to him? Why did John have to leave him?

What about me?

THE END