Chapter 18: Lance Sings Soprano

March 18th, 1995, 5:57 AM PT; Mile 2368/2230; 3 miles east of Fullerton, CA

After having a substantial debate about the risks and rewards, John decided that due to the closeness of the two trains, it would be wise to alert his son to his presence before the train got in to LA. It was a logical and useful thing to do, especially due to the unique situation of the juxtaposition of the two trains. He whispered to the still mostly-asleep Gretel his intentions, and quickly got dressed. He ambled down the stairs to the door waiting for the train to come to a stop.

When the early-running Southwest Chief finally did come to a complete stop in Fullerton, John undogged the sleeping car’s main center door himself, and jumped to the ground. As soon as his feet hit the platform, he was off like a race horse. He knew that the Chief would leave him behind- they simply wouldn’t be in Fullerton long enough for him to run there, alert his son, and run back. Most likely the Chief would leave before the Wind even got in to the station.

The two trains would be running as hot as Amtrak and the Santa Fe could possibly operate them in this circumstance. Because of the Desert Wind’s incredible lateness, Santa Fe would try to run it- and resultantly the Southwest Chief- through the stops as quickly as possible. They would be in battle-mode when it came to offloading passengers and getting the trains back up to speed. Passengers would be lined up at the doors and hustled off the trains as soon as possible, and if they had a carry by with the stations this close together, it would not be the end of the world.

He made it to the door of his son’s sleeping car just as the belated Desert Wind came to a rest. Not bothering to wait for the sleeping car attendant to open the coach door- luckily, since Will had been slugged and was therefore out of commission- he quickly undogged the door latches and threw it open, jumping onboard. He was familiar with the train’s operation; he had ridden it enough times. He knew that his son was staying in the Family bedroom, and he knew exactly where that was, because he knew how the car was oriented before he even boarded it.

As John turned in the corridor to walk to his son’s room, he was momentarily halted in his tracks by the sight of Lance standing there, his sharp switchblade knife gleaming even in the dim light of the car. John recognized immediately what it was, and he couldn’t come up with a scenario where this was a good thing. He didn’t wait to ask questions, or waste any time thinking about mitigating the situation; it was a matter of act first, ask the questions later, he figured. He quickly sprung up behind Lance with astonishing grace for his age.

In one cool coordinated movement, as he approached Lance from behind, his leg moved back in a perfect arc. Then it shot forward. Once again, Lance had the sensation of being impacted by a freight train. Only this time, it was in the area he valued most in life. He felt as if a freight train had impacted his privates.

For a brief moment, the only sound had been the slight BUFFF of the impact of John’s foot. Then for a moment more there was total silence as Lance’s brain attempted to process the exquisite pain of the sudden and unexpected attack on his manhood. Then came the incoherent bray of a man in a ungodly amount of pain to the extent that thoughts were not present in his mind for several moments.

“HAIYOOOODDDLLLEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAOOOOOOIEEEEAAEYYYYYYYE!” Lance screamed, “HYAOEEE AIIII OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

In his mentally incapacitated and largely thoughtless state, Lance instinctively grabbed for his impacted nuts. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your perspective, he forgot that he happened to be holding a very, very sharp switch blade knife. Said knife punctured right in to his left testicle as he grabbed and simultaneously fell to the floor. Blood sprang forth, immediately changing the color of his pants to bright red, and at the same time jacked the volume of Lance’s already deafening screaming to a whole new level.

“HHHHYYYYYYAYYYYAIIIIIEEEEEEEOOOOAIIIIOOOYEEEAHHHHHOOOOO!” Lance continued, with careful articulation, “OHCRYSTOHHHOAAAOAIIIIIEEEEOOOO DEEEEAAARRRRGOOOODD FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKINNNNGGGHELLLLLL OOOOOAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH!”

The red blood stain around his crotch rapidly grew in size as blood rapidly exited from the knife wound. At this point, Lance was entirely out of commission and no longer posed a threat to a dandelion seed pod, let alone a reasonably strong and somewhat large adult male. The fight had been ended quickly and efficiently, although not without injury. John, however, had a certain degree of apathy when it came to the guilt of injuring people standing over his son with a knife.

John stepped over him with characteristic sangfroid, adeptly picked up his son in his arms, and with Jill’s help, folded down the upper bunk and rested him on it. After checking to see that he was alive and did not show signs of a concussion, he then proceeded to drag Lance into the room, thankfully without leaving too much of an obvious blood trail outside the rooms door.

Brenda, who had woozily regained consciousness at this point, was also gently, if indifferently, helped into a seated position in the room where she could recover from her fall. John looked around carefully at the situation; he concluded with some certainty that he had done everything he could at the moment. There was a slight stain on the carpet in the hallway, but nobody was going to see it under the current circumstances; if it was seen, it would be perceived as a typical Amtrak carpet stain.

He closed and locked the door solidly, then chopped Lance’s carotid artery, rendering him even more unconscious. He then undid Lance’s belt, and pulled it out of his deeply blood-stained pants. With Jill’s eager help, he placed him on the sofa on his belly, pulled his arms and legs behind his back, and lashed them tightly with the belt. He then took off Lance’s socks, stuffed one in his mouth, and wrapped the other almost knee-high argyle sock around his mouth, tying it tightly- it barely fit.

Finally, he double-checked George for a pulse, and finding that he had one, checked his eyes, his head, and determined he was probably fine. Whatever the fall had done, it had not given him a concussion or caused any real lasting injuries. That was good, as it was not a given, under the circumstances. Both John and Jill had been worried about that, and they both breathed a collective sigh of relief about it.

Thoroughly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, he collapsed onto the other seat. Finally coming to some kind of general consciousness about his surroundings, he realized that he had yet to say a single word. He looked around and saw someone who must be the young girl his son had found. Despite all that had happened, she seemed calm. That level of mechanical dispassion under pressure gave John a certain level of respect and admiration for her from the get go; he could appreciate why George would like somebody of that sort.

“Hi, you must be Jill. I’m John, George’s dad,” he said with a tired smile, and offered her his hand.

She shook it, “Yep, I’m Jill, thanks for coming when you did. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t. I was trying to figure out how to take on my Uncle myself, but he had a knife, and I didn’t really like my chances.”

“I was going to rip my son a new asshole for doing this, you know. But after seeing this bastard, I think I understand it enough not to,” he said, then his eyes widened, having come to a distinct realization, “Christ, you’re naked!”

“Oh,” she simpered, “Let me take care of that.”

She quickly got dressed, then stood on the sofa, and kissed George gently on the lips. He moaned, stirred, and then dizzily sat up. His head hurt dully, and he wasn’t totally there yet. The taste of Jill’s lips, and the warmth of her gentle breath on his face dragged him back into consciousness, and making him a little less worried.

“Oh god, my aching head,” he said woozily, “What happened? I was about to kick his head off and then I am laying on the bed with you kissing me. Everything else is a fog in my mind.”

“That’s because you were unconscious, my beloved doofus,” she told him, “As for exactly what happened, that is a long story,”

He looked around, “Dad, you’re here, how the hell did you get on the train? What happened? And who the devil is this woman?”

“Our trains were running in tandem,” John explained, “So I ran back to your train to tell you that mom and I were on the Southwest Chief, and when I got here, the door to the car was not opened, and I couldn’t see the attendant, so I let myself in.”

“When I got in the car,” John continued, “I saw that Lance had knocked you out, he was standing over you and was about to carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I ... well, I came in the nick of time, and kicked him in the nuts. In the thoughtlessness of his pain, he then proceeded to stab himself in the nuts with his own knife in an attempt to grab them. He screamed loud enough for your mom to have heard it all the way on the Southwest Chief up ahead.”

“Then what happened?” George pressed, after his father had momentarily paused.

“I then trussed him up with Jill’s help,” he continued, “and moved you onto that bed, and grabbed this woman here and dragged her inside. I finally collapsed onto this here seat, and introduced myself to your friend here. It was not until I shook her hand that I realized she was buck naked.”

“Yeah,” George replied sanguinely, “She seems to be, shall we say, a bit less conscious of her body than she should be, although I admit I enjoy her boldness. I hope you can already sense some of what I like about her. In any case, I obviously thank you for the help.”

“Yes,” John replied guardedly, “I am beginning to get a hint of what she has done to drive you towards acting like a complete lunatic.”

“I have a hard time arguing with you on the acting crazy part,” George admitted, “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m in love, dad, and I suddenly understand so much about life, and you and mom, and I don’t want to lose what I found.

George then turned to Brenda, “Alright, now tell me, lady, who the fuck are you, why are you here, and all that other stuff, because let me tell you, you are a bigger enigma than the one they cracked at Bletchley Park.”

Over the next ten minutes, she woozily and slowly, due to her weakened state from the punch and fall, explained how she had met Lance. She also explained why she had started to like him, and her revulsion when she realized what he was. She came across as totally sincere and they found her friendly enough. They invited her to their place and she accepted. They had no reason to believe that she was fully in cahoots with him, and keeping her under wraps at this moment would help them control the narrative.

From his time working for the various passenger railroads in a management capacity, and more so running his own station restoration business, John knew the value of controlling a narrative. Lance was obviously some kind of lunatic; he was not a trustable source. Nobody else had bore witness to what had happened here. That gave John the opportunity to fully control the narrative and keep the situation well within hand.

Soon they were pulling into Union Station. It was 6:28 AM. After hours and hours of delay, disaster, and bad luck, the Desert Wind had reached the end of its long journey, 15 hours and 8 minutes late. Its companion for the past 2 hours and 40 minutes, the Southwest Chief, was home an hour and 47 minutes early.

If they had run on time, they would have pulled into Union Station totally apart, and on completely different days. The Desert Wind should have arrived 16 hours and 55 minutes before this Southwest Chief. Instead they arrived almost simultaneously, sitting next to each other, and sharing a platform at the historic Los Angeles Union Passenger Terminal. The lumbering giants were side by side, their diesel engines clattering, their electric generators humming, their cooling fans roaring. The stainless steel cars gleamed in the hot California sun, showcasing the beauty of naked stainless steel.