"Okay, listen up!" the gunman shouted as soon as he
could be heard over the squealing brakes.
After a few seconds, everyone in the carriage seemed
to grasp what had happened, and what would be
happening. Carter furtively glanced around the
carriage; no one was looking up, each person had his
eyes fixed on the floor. Most were gripping the
nearest railing. A few had clasped their hands
together; one man appeared to be praying, his lips
moving soundlessly.
"Everyone does what exactly I say. Nobody talks.
You," the gunman gestured at the woman with the baby.
"Come here." The woman stared back at him without
moving, visibly trembling. "Don't make me come get
you," he threatened her, cocking the weapon. She
stood up shakily, clutching her child tightly against
her body as she walked towards the man. No one spoke
as she approached him.
"Cute kid," the man sneered. "Give it to me." He
extended his free hand towards her.
"No." Her voice wavered with suppressed tears.
"You're forgetting the rules," he chided her in a
frighteningly gentle voice. "Now I can pry that baby
out of your arms dead or alive. I really don't care,
but I'm guessing you do. Give it to me."
"Please," she begged, crying openly. With both arms
wrapped around her baby, the tears slid down her
cheeks unchecked. "Please don't do this."
"Hey," Carter broke in. "You don't have to - " He
found himself staring up at the gun barrel, and
stopped speaking.
"Who's in charge here?" the man asked, in a mockingly
pleasant voice. He didn't wait for a reply. "Right,
so shut the fuck up." He looked around at all his
hostages, keeping the gun to Carter's forehead. "Next
person who talks ends up like my friend there. Am I
clear?" He kicked the policeman's body.
The body moaned. The gunman jumped slightly at the
sound, obviously startled. "Shit," he muttered,
taking aim at the wounded man's head.
"Wait!" Carter was standing before his common sense
could order him to stay seated and silent. Finding
the gun aimed at him again, he held both hands up in
front of him in a supplicating manner. "You don't
want to do that."
"You're not very smart, are you?" The gunman studied
Carter with a mix of anger and confusion.
"If you kill him, there's no way they're going to let
you off this train alive. You know how cops are."
Carter spoke quickly, hoping to make the gunman see
reason before he got more trigger-happy. "If he's
alive, they'll deal with you. They'll have to."
The gunman glared at him for a long moment. Carter
breathed a little more quickly than normal,
half-expecting the man to shoot him simply as an
example to the others, but he met the man's dark gaze
steadily. Then the man turned away. "Anyone here a
doctor?" he asked loudly.
"I am," Carter quietly informed the gunman's back.
The dark brown eyes returned to him and there was
another lengthy pause. Then the man shook his head, a
mirthless smile on his face. "Fine. Take care of
him. You," he beckoned to the mother with his gun,
"give me that kid right now." She looked at Carter
helplessly. Understanding her unspoken plea, the
gunman shoved Carter down on his knees beside the
policeman. "Him, you can help. Try anything else and
you'll just be the body lying next to his, okay, Doc?
And you," his eyes flickered back to the woman, "I've
run out of patience with."
He strode towards her purposefully. Carter half-rose
from the floor, wondering how everyone else could sit
back and let this happen.
"Doc, you better be kneeling by the time I turn around
or I'm gonna kill this nice lady," the gunman warned
him, glancing over his shoulder.
Carter sank down again. He cast his eyes around the
carriage, wishing futilely that one of the other
hostages would do something. None of them would look
at him, or at each other. He watched mutely as the
man forced his left hand between the mother and baby.
It wasn't until the man placed the muzzle of the
weapon against the back of the baby's head that she
relinquished her hold.
Knowing he was unable to help her, Carter concentrated
his attention on the wounded policeman, and tried to
block out the sound of her weeping. The policeman's
condition was better than Carter had anticipated: he
had a pulse and he was breathing. He was also
incredibly unlucky. The second Carter touched the
body, he knew Williams was wearing a Kevlar vest. The
bullet had somehow found a way around it, entering
high on the right side of the Williams' chest,
directly beneath his collarbone near the neck.
Lifting him slightly, cautiously, Carter searched for
an exit wound along the policeman's upper back. A
first cursory look revealed nothing, but it was
impossible to be certain without being more thorough.
Carter shifted his hold on the unconscious man: he had
to turn him, but the bullet could have ended up
anywhere. He really needed another set of hands for
this. He glanced up at the businessman who had been
sitting next to Williams; the grey-haired man stared
fixedly at his briefcase.
Carter was about to force the man to acknowledge him,
when the gunman's voice suddenly spoke in his ear.
"Well? Is he gonna live?"
"He needs to get to a hospital," Carter answered
flatly, easing Williams back to the ground.
"How did I know you were going to say that? Too bad.
No one's going anywhere at the moment," the gunman
said, bouncing the baby a little on his hip. Carter
looked at the baby, level with his eyes, and decided
not to antagonize the shooter.
"Fine."
The gunman raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?"
"No. But if you say so, then fine. For now. But I'm
going to need medical supplies."
The man looked at Carter for a full minute as though
noticing him for the first time. When he spoke, he no
longer sounded derogatory. "All right." Carter let
out a breath he had been unaware of holding. He was
about to specify what he would require when the gunman
straightened, staring out the end door of the
carriage. "And here they come," he said softly.
Carter looked in the same direction. SWAT men were
closing in on the carriage door at one end. Turning
his head, he could see they were also converging on
the other side. The neighboring carriages were empty;
evidently the rest of the passengers on the train had
been evacuated. His jaw dropped slightly as he
realized more than half an hour had passed since the
shooting first took place. The sun was low in the
sky, casting a red glow over everything, glinting off
the businessman's glasses.
All the hostages were sitting up, their impassivity
discarded at the sign of rescue. The gunman seemed to
be undisturbed by this development, though Carter
could see his knuckles were gripped white around his
weapon.
"Stay here," the man ordered, dragging Carter on his
knees by the shoulder of his shirt to the center of
the aisle. "You stand behind me, that way," he told
the mother, positioning her to face the door opposite
Carter. She made no sound or protest, tears still
falling silently. "Either of you moves, I'll kill
this kid. That goes for all of you," he added. There
was no audible response from the other hostages. They
waited in silence for the SWAT teams to arrive.
Part 3