Resistance is Futile

Outside the Shadows Express, the view stretched into an endless terrain of dirt, dust, and sparse vegetation.

Twenty carriages strong and burnished black beneath the desert sun, the train rolled over the tracks like a giant centipede. Ten trailers were geared towards heavy loads of industrial material, whilst the other half squashed in travellers at minimum cost. It made the fare cheap —but the conditions on a dry, hot day left passengers burning in the heat no amount of open windows prevented.

Jarl tugged at his damp shirt with a vengeance. Social etiquette stopped him from taking it off in front of the two guards and eight other people he shared Carriage C with.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder. 'Can I sit there?' A woman in her late thirties, possibly early forties, smiled amiably at him.

'Sure,' Jarl muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the ridiculous hat she wore. Plastic watch faces were glued or inserted into every crevice of the bonnet, giving it a tacky and haphazard appearance. She sat down opposite his table, edging right up to the open window and lifting her head to catch the breeze.

With a forced show of indifference, he let his gaze trail to the two male guards. One appeared on the verge of falling asleep. The other glared in sullen boredom behind his visor.

The woman in the bonnet leant forward. 'Twenty-four of them on this freighter,' she confirmed quietly.

'Huh?'

'Guards,' she added. 'They got two for each passenger cart, and a few patrolling the cargo. Suspicious, huh?' She winked at him.

Jarl looked about, checking to see who paid attention to their conversation. 'Why would that be, you think?'

'Oh... This and that.' The woman shrugged, stroking the underside of her bonnet with one finger. 'Special cargo, healthy margin of profit. They say the Dolls got their sights on thrifting it.'

Jarl twitched at the mention of the resistance group. Now she had him well and truly hooked. 'Good luck to them if they are,' he managed. 'Gonna be fun with all the security here.'

'Aye.' The woman nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. She propped her elbows, made sure the guards weren't paying attention, and spoke in a whisper: 'What do you know about the Shadowlands, boy?'

Cursed lands. Edge of civilisation. Edge of madness. 'Not much.'

'What if I told you the special cargo was from the Shadowlands?'

Then I'd be diving out the window, faster than you can say "Oh sh—" 'I can see why the Paper Doll Gang might be interested, then.' Jarl shrugged, inwardly curdling at the thought of anything influenced by the Shadowlands. No one wants to be cursed.

The woman showed her teeth in a canine smile. 'Right you are.'

Jarl reclined more into his seat, staring out past the grime-caked windows into the dust-strewn plains and scattered hillocks. In nine hours' time, the Shadows Express would touch down in Echelon, the capital of Central Government. His hand went to his throat and rubbed it. Thirsty. There better be a meal cart soon, or I'll kick a fuss.

In Echelon, he planned to seek out underground contacts to get into the Paper Doll Gang. They operated in the Northeast of the continent, right under the nose of Central Government. Famous names existed in the syndicate, such as Blue Gull, Natecher, Tick-Tock-Cat and many others. Jarl coveted them all. As a kid he'd grown up with tales of the Gang and the things they got up to —and as for their cause, it hit a nerve with the majority of the working class.

More people supported the Dolls every day, but in secret. If they supported them vocally, well... he glanced at the guards.

No one was fool enough to support them out loud.

A low whine whirred through the chug of the engine. A faint smile tugged at the woman's aged lips as she stared out the window. Jarl pressed his face against the glass, his jaw agape in astonishment.

A mass of gears, cogs and bolts flitted outside, linking together the most bizarre mechanism Jarl had ever seen. It groaned and wheezed and spat out smog at an alarming rate, propellers keeping its rusted body skybound like a chopper. It was joined by two more similar contraptions in their tangle of cobbled vehicle parts —parts that very well could have been scooped off the floor of some industrial frontier town; parts which appeared on the verge of, well, falling apart. The gargantuan choppers/things clanked out brittle and unhealthy noises. More hovered in the distance, jittering with ominous purpose.

The sight didn't please the guards too much because they leapt to their feet and uncocked their guns. The choppers dipped out of view, heading straight towards the cargo trailers.

'That would be the PDG?' Jarl said, strangled, over the murmurs of dissent from the other passengers.

The woman grinned, looking every bit as excited as Jarl felt. 'What do you think?'

I can't believe this. The Dolls are here. On... This... Train!

The guards pelted through the carriage door, barking into their mouthpieces in frantic panic.

The train intercom buzzed:

'Please will all passengers remain calm. This is your friendly neighbourhood Doll speaking. We are about to brake the train. Some measure of discomfort may be experienced. Some heavy lifting may commence as well, since we're taking the cargo. Remember —it's all for a good cause!'

Everyone clapped hands over ears when the grating squeal of brakes burst out. Jarl felt a silly grin spread over his face. He couldn't believe his luck. Luck? He eyed the woman in delighted suspicion.

Four guards stormed into their compartment, causing Jarl to sober up fast enough to look suitably alarmed. A piebald-skinned man stood up as they passed. 'What's going on?'

The man flinched as a bulky guard aimed a gun to his face. 'Sit down! It's for your own safety,' the guard added, almost as an afterthought. The passenger paled and sat down in terrified silence. A dark-haired woman grasped her child close, nearly crushing him in the process.

'Mate,' a smaller guard muttered. 'Way to go. Really taking command there.' He gave his wide-set colleague a withering glare as they trumped away.

The train ground to a halt.

'And they wonder why we defect,' Jarl's companion observed dryly after she was sure no more guards would be passing through.

Jarl snaked forwards and grabbed her wrist, unable to contain it any longer. 'Are you a Doll?'

The woman trailed her gaze to his arm. 'Interested, boy?' She purred, tilting the ridiculous straw bonnet which Jarl felt convinced should never have made it past customs.

'Very,' Jarl breathed, letting go and squeezing his own hands together in excitement. The woman regarded him —no doubt reading the desperation in his expression —and smirked.

'Things about to get messy, boy.' She indicated outside the train towards the influx of choppers and polished Central controlled hovercraft drifting into sight, their guns spewing out ammunition. The government vehicles were sleek, slender, and only a quarter of the size of the Paper Doll Gang versions. Bullets richocheted off the choppers, which apparently had the same consistency as flying tanks. 'Gonna be hiking out soon. If you're interested, follow me.'

Jackpot!

The woman patted his clenched hands before grabbing onto the table as the train rocked wildly. Jarl copied, gripping tight. The other passengers cried out in fear —one young couple clutched each other in desperate panic. After the rocking stopped, the woman got up and gestured for Jarl to follow suit. He obeyed without question and stepped out into the corridor, adrenaline kicking in.

She pulled off one of the plastic watches, flipped it open and held it to her ear like a phone, right underneath a security camera. Jarl stared up at it with trepidation.

'Tick-Tock-Cat reporting in,' she said easily, relaxing against the toilet door and wiping sweat from her brow. 'And what did I tell you about playing around with the intercom?'

Jarl pointed at the camera, his eyes a little wild from the reveal of the woman's name. She smiled, clasping her hand around the watch. 'It's alright boy. The only people watching the security system —and clearing the data —are PDG members.' She continued her conversation on the phone; 'Complications you say? Because that's just what we need. Complications.'

She started to pace around more animatedly. Jarl watched the gunfight outside. There weren't many hovercraft, about twelve to the six monstrous PDG contraptions. Whatever business happening on the train clearly distracted the remaining guards yet to join the battle. He heard shouts of alarm and loud thuds emanating from the next carriage.

Two choppers in the distance could be seen carrying a metal trailer between them, clamped beneath their bellies by magnetisers. The six closest choppers formed a wall of rust, iron and steel, blasting out at the hovercraft and causing one to topple down in a plume of smoke.

'Hup, boy.' Jarl hadn't even noticed Tick-Tock-Cat ending the call. He flinched when she touched his arm. 'We're hopping out and going along the tracks.'

Jarl gulped. Tick-Tock-Cat grunted as she jerked the door open. Outside she immediately hugged the tracks. Jarl followed and crouched low, his heart all over the place. This side of the train seemed relatively vehicle free. He still heard bullets pinging and engines sputtering.

Doubts plagued Jarl's mind, but he swallowed them up to concentrate better on following Tick-Tock-Cat through the action. She was, after all, one of his heroes; a senior member of the Dolls. He wouldn't give up this opportunity for anything.

Except maybe certain death.

The sun glared at them as they trawled to the cargo end of the freighter. Three metal trailers were missing —with another currently in the process of a vanishing act as two choppers fixed their magnets on.

'We got the guards locked up mostly in the end box,' Tick-Tock-Cat whispered. A man with messy blond hair waved at them from outside one of the trailers.

'Cat!' He seized Tick-Tock-Cat in a rough bear-hug when they approached. He only reached up to her shoulders in height. 'Am I glad to see you! It's crazy over here.'

'Crazy?' Tick-Tock-Cat levered up onto the jutting platform. 'Can't disagree. This the one you were talking 'bout, Kaine?'

'Yeah.' Kaine appeared nervous, glancing Jarl's way. 'You sure this kid is alright?'

'He's got a spark. I like him,' she said as if that settled the matter. She disappeared into the trailer.

'Wanna follow?' Kaine squinted at Jarl. 'Less chance of being shot at.'

Jarl nodded violently and scrambled into the trailer behind the two Dolls, his hands clammy. He entered a room bathed in red light. It looked more like the inside of a prison institute than a box for holding supplies. He saw row upon row of identical metal containers, each large enough to potentially hold a human. Were these prison cells? Could the Shadows Express be transporting criminals? Tick-Tock-Cat slid open an eye-window to peer through one.

Something moaned inside it. Tick-Tock-Cat made the sign of negation and slammed it shut.

'Okay, what was that I just saw?' She stared at Kaine in disgust and confusion.

'You tell me. They're in two trailers at least, all huddled up. Guards were veeeeery keen we didn't get in here.'

Jarl picked his way over the limp body of a guard. A hand sprawled out from a corner of the room.

'Did you kill any?' Tick-Tock-Cat frowned at Kaine.

'No, unless one of them develops brain concussion or something.' Kaine paused. 'I...took pictures. We... well, we didn't think it would be a good idea to filch these trailers. Those things don't look people-friendly, Cat.'

Tick-Tock-Cat rubbed her cheek. Jarl discreetly edged past them and opened the eye-window, curiosity eating him up. What could garner such a reaction from the two Dolls?

A grey, hunched form moaned and lunged at the opening. Jarl glimpsed a mouth full of rotting teeth snapping at him. A muffled meaty thunk caused the cell-door to vibrate.

'I have no idea what they are,' Kaine continued, ignoring Jarl as he stumbled and fell in shock, 'They look like humans, but they can't be. One of them's all twisted. He has these insane white eyes.' Kaine shuddered. 'All white, dessicated looking...'

'Direct from the Shadowlands,' Tick-Tock-Cat muttered, drifting a finger to her lip. She turned a concerned gaze to Jarl when she noticed him on the floor. 'You alright, boy?'

'Yeah. I'm fine. I will be.' Jarl took a deep, shaky breath. His hands trembled. What the hell was that thing? It looked dead.

Tick-Tock-Cat reached for her watch/phone again. 'Let's wrap this up. We can't waste anymore time. Those pictures better be good.'

'They're always good,' Kaine replied, hurt.

The senior Doll spoke rapidly into her device, transmitting orders for evacuation. The guard below Kaine's feet began to stir.

Moments later, a loud thrum startled Jarl out of his daze. A chopper belched down onto the dust next to them. Dolls active around the train dashed across the surface, dodging shrapnel from the gunfight above. Eighteen Central hovercraft now swarmed the PDG machines, forcing them into a retreating motion.

The grounded chopper's door clanged open and Jarl found himself being bundled through with haste. Tick-Tock-Cat flashed a thumbs-up to the pilot as Jarl staggered onto a set of cold metal benches. He grabbed the iron railings above for support whilst Tick-Tock-Cat, Kaine, and several other nameless faces poured into the compact vehicle.

A hovercraft sprayed bullets onto them. The last person clambering onto the chopper pitched forwards, dead. Kaine sighed and kicked out the body like a sack of rubbish. The vulnerable opening grated shut. The chopper growled and lifted off into the air, propellers churning furiously. Jarl's bones rattled with the sensation.

'Damn shame. I liked him,' Tick-Tock-Cat murmured.

Jarl stared in carefully controlled panic, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

Kaine jostled beside him to loop a friendly arm about his shoulders. 'Sorry you had to see that, kid. Not a nice thing to happen on the job. We gotta cut the losses, though —odds are we end up dead otherwise. You see?' Kaine patted his back.

Jarl didn't respond. Tick-Tock-Cat flashed a tight-lipped smile at him. 'Welcome to the Paper Doll Gang, boy.'

Word Count: 2403

Submitted for the February Last Pen Standing round, in honour of Sticktalker