Long Road to Mercy (Atlee Pine, #1)(89)

“Then what, you kill us? What would be the reason?”

“If I let you live, you will make my task much more difficult.”

“I guess I see your point,” said Pine.

“Your honesty does you justice,” conceded Chung.

“You seem far too nice for this sort of work,” interjected Blum.

“Your observations deceive you, madam,” said Chung. “I am not nice. At all. As, unfortunately, you are about to find out.”

At that moment, the train started up again.

It caught them all off-guard, and Chung stumbled backward a bit.

Pine slumped forward, her head between her knees, as though she were about to be sick.

Her fingers closed around the length of pipe. It was the tool the steward had used to lower the top bunk into place. Earlier, she had seen him slide it into a holder under the bunk after he’d finished making up their beds for the night.

She sat up and delivered a blow with the pipe first to Chung’s hand, knocking the pistol from it, and then striking his jaw.

He staggered backward against the wall.

Holding his face and his back, he straightened just at the moment that Pine hit him with a roundhouse kick, the force of which lifted him off his feet, and he flew against the window of the train car.

He bounced off the glass and catapulted forward at the same moment that Pine lunged for her gun that had fallen off the desk after Chung’s collision with it.

Pine slid along the floor, snatched her gun, hit the wall, turned, and fired.

The shot missed Chung, but smacked into the window and shattered it.

Chung exploded forward and kicked the gun free from Pine’s hand. He followed the kick with a hand strike to her side, which seized up her left side and drove all the air out of her lungs.

Shit, here we go again.

Chung straightened and was about to deliver a crushing kick to Pine’s head when he reeled backward, grabbing his own head.

Blum had hit him with the pipe.

Blood flowing from a gash on his head, he turned and was about to deliver a blow to Blum that would have killed the woman when Pine hit him from behind with a knee to the base of his spine, propelling him forward into the already cracked glass.

As the train picked up speed, Pine planted her legs firmly around Chung’s, pinning them together. At the same time her arms encircled his torso and kept his arms bound to his sides. She levered forward, forcing Chung’s face against the glass.

Pine got her delt under Chung’s right shoulder blade and pushed upward. She gave a heave, and slowly the shorter Korean was lifted off the floor, the toes of his nicked shoes now the only thing touching there. This was remarkably difficult, since Pine could not spread her legs and plant her feet to give herself the leverage to more efficiently lift Chung. She knew that if she allowed his legs an inch of freedom, he would disable her and then kick both of them to death.

She could have had Blum grab one of the guns, but she wasn’t going to make the woman cold-bloodedly shoot the Korean in the head. And she might miss and hit Pine; or since Pine was plastered to the guy, the bullet could pass through Chung and kill her.

But she couldn’t just stand here holding the Korean. That was not sustainable. The plan came together in her head in seconds.

“Carol,” panted Pine. “The window. The…seal.”

Blum looked confused for a moment, but then lurched over, gripped the red lever at the bottom of the window, and pulled it free.

Chung, seeing what they were trying to do, struggled to free himself. He rammed his head backward, catching Pine hard on the chin. Pain rocketed up her face and she winced. But she managed to hold him firmly against the broken glass as Blum pulled the rubber seal free from around the perimeter of the window.

Once that was done, Blum gripped the edge of the glass and tugged hard. It broke free from the wall of the train, slipped sideways, and then fell out of the opening. Air whipped inside the compartment, blowing the curtains straight out.

This was the moment of truth, Pine knew. With the window gone, so was most of her leverage holding him against it. Chung jerked and pulled and bucked, but without his feet being on the floor he couldn’t gain the necessary traction, and without that he lacked the ability to strike out.

The interior train lights started to flicker on and then off.

Pine continued to slowly lift the far shorter man, inch by inch, at the same time keeping his limbs pinched to his sides. Her torso, arms, and legs were like a tube, a tube that she was slowly, inexorably forcing Chung through by moving her arms and legs millimeters at a time. The horrific image of a constrictor working its victim down its gullet popped into her head, and it was not far off the mark. Except Pine wanted to cast off Chung, not swallow him.

As she leaned forward, his waist was now resting on the edge of the window.

That meant Chung was halfway out of the train window.

But so was Pine.

The train was only going about twenty-five miles an hour now. But it was accelerating.

The wind whipped into them. They were both facing downward. Aside from her views of Chung’s back, Pine could see the landscape sweeping past. The terrain was pancake flat. Lawrence, Kansas, was far behind them now and receding faster and faster.

Pine was reaching the edge of her safety zone. Another few inches and she would not be able to stay in the train compartment. Chung’s weight and the angle she was holding him at were straining every muscle she had to its breaking point. Then they would both go flying out the window. And though the train wasn’t going that fast yet, the collision with the ground could very well send them bouncing under the train wheels. And that would mean certain death for them both.