The Hunt For Atlantis

Chase dropped flat as Castille fired a single shot that whipped mere inches over the top of his head. From the far end of the corridor came a choked cry, followed by the thump of a body falling to the floor. Looking around, Chase saw another soldier slumped against the bullet-riddled rear wall, a gun clattering from his lifeless hand.

“You came to rescue me, I end up rescuing you,” said the Belgian with a sly smile.

“Aw, we’ll just call it evens.” Chase stood again. “Can’t believe he was hiding in the bog! Where’s Nina?”

Castille’s face became grim. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her. That captain took her into another compartment. And Hafez is hurt, he’s been shot.”

“Where?”

“In the leg.”

“No, where where?”

Castille turned and gestured towards the front of the train. “Down here, come on!”

They raced into the first car. Hafez was still on the floor, covering the entrance with his gun. “Eddie!” he exclaimed painfully. “Good to see you! How did you…”

“You heard all those explosions?”

“Yes.”

“That’s how. Where’s Nina?”

Hafez gestured with his rifle. “I think the compartment at the far end, but the little shit who did this to me,” he looked at his injured leg, “is covering it. Mahjad’s probably in there as well.”

Chase reached into one of his pockets and took out a small steel mirror, angling it so that he could see the far end of the passageway. As he’d expected, the movement attracted a couple of shots, but in the brief moment before pulling his hand back he saw all he needed. “One guy, last compartment, crouched low.” He nodded at Castille. “You up for it?”

“I’ll take the far side.”

“Uh-uh. You got the last bad guy for me. I’ll take the far side.” Chase prepared to jump out and take up a firing position against the outer wall of the corridor. It would give him a better shooting angle-but he would also be more exposed.

“My reverse psychology works again,” said Castille. He raised his rifle. “Ready?”

Chase did the same. “Fight to the end.”

“Fight to the end,” Castille echoed.

Chase reached up and yanked the communication cord.

The entire train shook violently as the emergency brakes slammed on, the wheels squealing over the track. Bracing himself, Chase waited for it to come to a standstill…

“And, go!”

Castille leaned around the corner and took aim. The soldier, still recovering from the sudden deceleration, saw him and emerged from his cover to take a shot. At the same moment, Chase sprang out and slammed against the opposite wall, dividing his quarry’s attention.

The rifles of both the former commandos barked at once. Before he even had a chance to fire, the soldier was dead, flung back into the compartment like a rag doll.

Chase heard Nina shriek in fright. “Come on!” he ordered, racing down the corridor. Castille followed.

The compartment door was jammed open by the soldier’s body. Chase didn’t stop running, instead diving forward just before he reached the door and landing in a perfect roll on the far side. A pistol shot punched a hole through the window inches behind him.

He’d glimpsed the compartment’s interior as he dived past, and signaled silently with one hand to Castille as he regained his footing. One hostage, one bad guy, standing. Go in three, two, one-

Both men whipped around the door, rifles snapping onto their target.

Mahjad stood with Nina in front of him, left arm wrapped around her waist, his army pistol pointed awkwardly at the door. His right hand held Chase’s Wildey, the muzzle pressed against her temple.

Nina was shaking. “Eddie!”

“Drop your guns!” Mahjad yelled. “I’ll count to three. If you don’t drop your guns by then, I’ll-”

Chase and Castille exchanged lightning-fast glances. “Three!” Chase snapped.

The two bullets hit Mahjad’s forehead barely a centimeter apart. The back of his skull blew out, the light in the room instantly taking on a scarlet tinge as the window behind him was splattered with gore. His body dropped to its knees, then slumped backwards and hit the wall with a sticky thud.

“Only amateurs talk,” Chase said to a nod of agreement from Castille, before turning his attention to Nina. Worryingly, she hadn’t responded in any way to the shooting, simply standing there. “Dr. Wilde?” She stared blankly at him. “Nina!”

She blinked. “What?”

“Nina,” he repeated, “keep your eyes on me, okay? Just keep looking at me, and take a step forward.”

“Okay…” she replied numbly, taking the step. Emotion began to return to her face-but not fear or shock. Instead, it was almost bafflement. “Why do I have to look at you?”

“Why, what’s wrong with looking at me?”

She took another step. “Well, er…”

Chase pouted. “Aw, thanks!”

“Nothing! No, there’s nothing wrong with your face!”

She waved her hands in frantic apology. “I just wanted to know why you want me to keep looking at you.”

He took hold of her hands, then quickly whisked her out of the compartment, stepping over the body of the soldier. “I just didn’t want you to see the guy with half his head missing, that’s all!”

She glanced down at the soldier, whose leg was sticking out into the corridor. “What, as opposed to the guy with the sucking chest wounds who just got blown away right in front of me?”

Chase shook his head. “Can’t please some people…”

“Oh my God!” she suddenly shrieked, the full impact of what had just happened finally hitting her. “You shot him while he had a gun to my head! What if his finger had twitched or something? He could have killed me!”

Castille emerged from the compartment, handing Chase his Wildey before using the key to unlock Nina’s handcuffs. “Actually, that hardly ever happens.”

“Not if you get ’em in the head,” Chase added. “Hit them in the body, that’s a different story. Hydrostatic shock, muscle spasms… But a clean head shot, almost never. He wouldn’t-”

Bang!

Nina shrieked.

“Ah,” said Castille apologetically, looking back into the compartment to see smoke rising from the barrel of Mahjad’s pistol, “he was a twitcher. I should have taken his other gun as well, n’est-ce pas?”

Nina glared at Chase. “I said almost never,” he complained as he checked his gun, then slid it back into its holster beneath his jacket. “Anyway, the trigger pull on a Wildey’s a lot more than that crappy little Chinese pistol he had… and why are we even talking about this? We need to get out of here!”

“How?” Nina demanded as she rubbed her sore wrists. “We’re still stuck in the middle of Iran! And what about Kari?”

“I’m working on that.” Chase glanced down at the dead soldier. “Is he the guy who had all our stuff?”

Castille nodded, pulling a satchel from the body. “Here.”

Chase quickly rummaged through it, taking out a mobile phone. “Here we go! Just hope I remembered to charge the battery.”

“What are you going to do?” Nina asked.

He smiled. “I’m going to phone a friend.”