Blah, blah, blah. You get the point.
Chapter 5
That night, they were all calmly relaxing in the middle car of their private train. Yes, private train. The agents were such huge assets to the military that they were given money and resources, all courtesy of the taxpayers.
Inside the polished mahogany wood and the smooth carpets, the Wallace brothers were busying cleaning out Riza's guns. All one hundred and sixty-four of them. Hawkeye was cooking supper. Boiled cabbage, stuffed potatoes, and roasted chicken. Hughes was in the next car, writing a letter to his family. As he stroked his pen, he happily recounted his adventures in the service: how they both single-handedly fought off eighty-eight crazy bandits, how Riza made a peace pact between two warring Indian tribes, how Black Hayate had humped a cow so violently and hard that it keeled over from a broken blood vessel, and how Jean Havoc set himself ablaze while smoking a cig.
"How's that letter?" asked Russell aloud.
"Good. It'll take two to three weeks for it to get to New Orleans, though."
Russell turned back to his brother in disgust.
"Dammit Fletcher, careful how you clean that chamber. There can't be a misfire!"
"Sorry Russ. Geez, I'm tryin' my best."
Russell hadn't meant it like that. He just wanted to look out for the best for Fletcher. They had been orphaned for years, trying to locate the whereabouts of their long-lost father. Hawkeye discovered them in Baltimore when Fletcher tried to pickpocket her while Russell was "asking" for directions. The old bait and switch. Works every time! But they didn't count on her lightening-fast reflexes, as she grabbed them by the collar. She could've hauled them over to the police, but after hearing of there circumstances, Riza treated them to a fat dinner, on the house. Since then, she adopted them as her assistants, almost as her sons, cleaning and maintaining the equipment, feeding the horses, delivering the messages, etc, etc. Better than being homeless.
"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, boys. I'm going out for some fresh air."
She walked to the rear of the locomotive and sat on the caboose, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky. They were lovely that night, pulsating their heavenly light against the painted black void, seemingly so close, close enough to feel their warmth. In reality, they were eons away from the grip of man. What if Fletcher was right about that spaceship? Riza thought. What if we could penetrate the Earth's sky and jettison to those stars, see if someone's watching us, like we're watching them? In reality, they were watching us, but they didn't care about us primitive half-monkeys. They were busying building the Death Star.
As she sat contemplating the mysteries of the universe, there was a rustle of grass in the darkness, thirty yards out. Riza heard this, and pointed her .45 Colt in that direction. Ears like an owl, and 20/15 vision. What a freakin' package! As this unknown intruder crept closer, Hawkeye cocked the hammer slowly.
"Better come where I can see you."
"Please, help me!"
It was a female voice, rather weak and tired sounding. Riza walked off the caboose slowly, towards it. Someone could be in trouble, or it could be a trap, a way to reel her in and then ambush her. She had encounters like this, so it was best to let the bait come in. If it was legit, the bait would run to. If not, then she'd start blasting.
Sure enough, the bait came. It was a young girl, with long blond hair. She was sweating profusely, with dirt and dried blood caked on her clothes, chest heaving with exhaustion.
"Please, help…"
She just fainted as Hawkeye caught her. She started to carry her towards the train.
"Easy now, girl. I got you."
Maes was getting to the part where he killed the two in Central when Riza came in with the girl. He stood up.
"Don't just stand there, Maes. Get over here. Tell the Wallaces to boil some water and get the medicine. We got a visitor."