A Train of Criminals and Swine (Ch4)

"The bare fact was that Maxim wanted to kill people. That she thought she ever was in love with him made her stomach roll over."

Oct 07, 2023

“Stop the train!”

Theda’s eyes snapped open. “What is it?” She blurted, shaking her head. Her hairpins, which had been loosened from the constant contact of her head against the first-class seat, completed its tumble to her shoulders, a long, dark tendril fell over her forehead.

“We’re slowing down,” her older sister Violet said, craning her neck around Theda toward the window. With one hooked finger she snagged the wayward lock and placed it behind Theda’s ear. The two women stared at the mist that blew past in long gossamer threads. Large shapes moved through the fog, hulking grey objects with lights and bullhorns.

“I think those are army trucks…” Theda started but she was cut off by the excruciating squeal of the emergency breaks. Ladies screamed over the clatter of items falling into the aisles. A porter with a tray of coffees was thrown, sending the hot brown liquid in a spray. A burly man with a handlebar mustache who had been complaining about the lack of attention the first-class passengers were receiving from the staff pitched forward, smothering two small children in the seat across, prompting panicked screams from their mothers. Violet’s lithe frame parted ways with her seat and she landed in the lap of the older gentleman across from them who had been ogling her over his newspaper since he and his dour wife had boarded in Chicago. Theda raised her legs and slammed both her feet forward, making contact on each side of the wife, who in turn pitched backward with a guttural cry, her jowly face shaking to the rhythm of the brakes winding down.

Theda gritted her teeth and held on, pushing with her legs, and finally the train began to slow to a halt. Living Newton’s Law. She opened her eyes into the furious face of the Jowly Wife. “My word!” She barked, eyes darting from Theda’s feet, which were on either side of her, to Theda’s skirt which had risen above her knees. The husband would have had quite a sight had he not been pretending to help Violet up while really keeping her on his lap. “Steady on, young miss!” he said, his rubbery smile repulsive under his thick mustache. The newspaper he hadn’t been reading was strewn over his shoes.

Swine. The familiar sight of a man getting much too close to her sister made her blood boil. She stood, the papers cracking under her heels. With one hand she gripped Violet’s upper arm and hauled her up, narrowing her eyes. His smile immediately dropped.

“Thank you for catching my sister. I believe she doesn’t need to spend any more time sitting on you, wouldn’t you agree?” With her other hand she steadied Violet until she had her footing.

A crimson flush moved up from his neck until it reached his hairline. “I’m pleased I could come to the young lady’s aid,” he muttered. He bent over and began to gather the newspapers, missing some sheets. He straightened up, crumpled the paper and scooted off, avoiding the debris field in the aisle.

“I’ll thank you to keep your implications to yourself,” Jowls said, standing and smoothing her bunched up dress. She snatched her purse, hat and coat from the seat with a snapping force.

Theda reached out a hand and lightly touched her sleeve, leaning forward like a mesmerized cobra. A little groan escaped Violet, who pinched Theda’s arm, her signal to her younger sister to shut your mouth.

Theda did the thing she had always done since childhood: ignored the warning. “And I’ll thank you,” she said quietly, eyes steady, “to keep that wild boar of yours on a leash.”

“The manners on the young today are atrocious!” Jowls grumbled, following her husband.

“Oh, Theodora, why?” Violet pretended to groan, but Theda caught the little smile she tried to hide.

“When one of these pigs bothers my sister, I spring into action. A lesser woman would let it go.” The man had temporarily distracted her, causing rise to the protectiveness she had ever since Violet had come down with diphtheria a few years back and her health had diminished.

Theda stared out the window, trying to see through the mist at the invading party. What is is? Can it be Maxim? The Russian anarchist and his crew wouldn’t have the authority to stop a train. They were searching for her, there was no doubt about that, but to think they could halt a massive passenger train was unthinkable. But the police can.

“I’m going to find Mother,” Violet said, rising. But that’s as far as she got. The door to the car banged open and a gray-haired porter barged through. “Be seated! Be seated, all of you!” He yelled, raising his arms. “Please, find a seat!”

“Why are we stopped?” a man yelled from the behind.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t panic! We are only a few miles from Fort Riley and we’ll be on our way soon. The military police need to do a quick search of the train, that’s all.”

“Search for what?”

The porter stopped and looked behind him. “They have a suspicion that there may be a wanted criminal on this train.”

The passengers worried chatter rose a few octaves. “Now, now, folks, they’re just being cautious. They’re coming through here and are going to show you some quick sketches. Just say yes or no if you’ve seen them and we’ll be on our way.”

Violet sat down back down and picked up her Photoplay magazine and opened to a full-page of Valentino smoking a cigarette. “What do you think of Valentino? I think his cinematic make-up makes him look ghoulish, but he is a handsome devil. Or have you seen better looking men in the morgue when you work with Father?” she chuckled, elbowing Theda lightly. “I’m sure when you’re a doctor one day, you’ll have no time to go to the pictures with me!” She flipped another page. “Ugh, this trip is as boring as can be, but I suppose a wanted criminal stowing away may liven things up a bit. You’re the one with the imagination. What do you think he’s wanted for?” Violet continued to flip the pages then stopped. “Theda?”

Theda’s face was pure white. She stared at the ground as if in a trance.

“Theda!” Violet grabbed her arm and shook her. “Are you alright?”

Theda shook her head and blinked. “I’m fine,” she said, and forced a smile. “I’m just tired.”

Violet settled back into her magazine. “We’re all tired. Mother left an hour ago to play bridge and I can see she’s tired of this trip. I just hope it’s worth it. And I hope there’s no more trouble from someone.” She gave her little sister the side-eye.

“I don’t believe I’ll be expelled from school again, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Theda said evenly. Violent made a hrrumph noise. “Listen to this! Mary Pickford is producing yet another war film! She says that…” and she continued to read the article out loud, but Theda heard it as if she were under water. She slowly bent down and gently took a sheet of the discarded newspaper. She sat back.

BOMB FOUND IN SUITCASE IN FRONT OF PHILA. CITY HALL. SUSPECTS AT LARGE

Her chest tightened painfully and the smell of the spilled coffee mixed with the leftover scent of Jowly’s perfume made her want to vomit. She skimmed the article, her large brown eyes flowing left to right. There reporter cited the facts that she already knew, like what the suitcase looked like, the placement of it, and the suspicion that the note was written by a foreign-born male because of the shape of the letters. How did they come to that conclusion? But let them think that. Then she read:

“Police have called to question those in the vicinity and have come to no conclusions as to the identity of the person or persons who left the suitcase…After determining that the enclosed bomb was not on a timer but was triggered by opening the suitcase, Police cleared the area, and moved the suitcase to an undisclosed location outside the city where it was properly detonated.

Detonated. Theda lowered the paper and gazed out the window at the moving mist. It was a live bomb. There was a small part of her that wanted to reject what she saw with her own eyes. Despite the lessons from Harold Evora to never allow emotion to enter into a logical equation there was still, in her twenty-year old mind, the remnants of childhood where she could still hope. She had so desperately wanted to believe that Maxim wasn’t capable of extreme violence; that an attack of consciousness might have overcame him when he thought of the violence done to his own people back in Russia in the name of politics. No sane person would truly want to revisit the same ugly calculations on other people. A voice whispered from a deep place in her mind when I became a man, I put away childish things.

But the bomb did explode on a field far away from City Hall, in front of a group of men who were beyond weary of the protests and the attacks of the Socialists, men who had the mind to retaliate swiftly and with deadly force. The bare fact was that Maxim wanted to kill people. That she thought she ever was in love with him made her stomach roll over. That she let him touch her, whisper to her in his soft accent in the middle of a spring field with wildflowers beginning their summer blooms made her cold.

How could I be such a fool? She breathed deeply. Me, with my so-called brains!

Just then, the man whose lap Violet had the misfortune to land in walked from the neighboring car. “Sit tight, you all,” he announced to no one in particular. He moved to sit in the vacant seat across from Violet and Theda but thought better of it and kept going. “The military had word that a criminal who may have boarded the train from Philadelphia is on this train. They’re coming by in a moment with a drawing of the suspect. Then we’ll be on our way, thank heavens.”

Theda shrank into the corner between as close to the window as possible. She rummaged in her bag for her cloche hat pulled it on, covering her eyes. “May I see one of your magazines?” she asked Violet.

“Take this, I’ve read it a hundred times.” Violet handed her the worn copy of Photoplay. “I’m going to find Mother.” She sprang up and was down the aisle before Theda could say a word.

Theda raised the magazine and listened, peeking over the top much like the swine with the newspaper. She heard men’s voices in the next car.

Steady on. Just breathe. Glance at it and shake your head.

Two tall men in military uniform walked through the door. Theda stared at the magazine, but from her peripheral vision she saw the Montana Peaked hat, the khaki trench coats and tall boots with leggings.

“Have you seen this man?” The one in front said, showing a letter-sized paper to the passengers in the front seat. Heads shook.

Theda exhaled. Man. She was just about to lower the magazine when a gloved finger did it for her. And the face of the wanted man was in front of her, making her heart stop.

It was the white-haired man, but it couldn’t be. The man in this drawing had black hair. But the face. That face was so close to that of the white-haired man. She gasped.

“Are you Theodora Evora?” A deep voice said.

Theda slowly raised her eyes from the wanted man and looked up into a pair of electric blue eyes. The solider was at least six-feet-four and his face had the tough, weathered look of the immigrant dockworkers from Poland and Hungary. He watched her for a second longer, then spoke quietly.

“You need to come with me. Now.”

READ CHAPTER 5 HERE: