Murder Mystery On The Night Train
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The train’s whistle blew, and the first of its cars pulled out of the station. It was a simple boxcar with no windows or doors, but it had a wide metal walkway that ran along the side of the car, giving you a good view of the landscape as the train traveled along the tracks.
A young man sat on one end of the walkway, leaning back against the wall and looking out over the land as the train made its way along the line. He wore a brown jacket over his casual clothes, and he carried a pair of binoculars in his hand. He didn’t seem to be watching for anything specific, just taking in the scenery.
He looked like any other traveler, except for the fact that he was holding a gun.
It was a large pistol, but he held it casually in his hands, as though he’d been born with it. The weapon was a custom job, and not something you could pick up at the local pawn shop. The gun had a short barrel and a curved magazine, and a large muzzle brake attached to the front.
It wasn’t much bigger than a revolver, but it had enough power to blow the head off a horse at point-blank range.
“I see them,” said the young man in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. “Three of them.”
There were three figures walking down the street ahead of the train, each wearing a trench coat and carrying a pistol in their hands. They had no particular expression on their faces, and they walked slowly and silently. Their eyes never left the ground, and they made no sound as they passed.
The young man looked at the three men walking toward him, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. He lifted it to his lips and drank deeply. Then he lowered the vial and put it away, as though it had never been there.
The train was now approaching the trio of men, and the young man stood up and stepped onto the walkway. He moved forward calmly, and the three men turned to look at him as he approached.
“Welcome aboard,” said the young man in a voice that sounded like a breeze blowing through the woods. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to chat right now.”
His words came from all directions at once, and his eyes were like blue fire.
The three men froze as they saw the young man approach them. They had seen him before, and they knew that he was in trouble. But there was nothing they could do about it. The young man’s gun was already trained on them, and they knew that if they tried to run or fight, they would only end up dead.
They stood still as statues, and they watched the young man come closer.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” said the young man as he closed in on them. “I just need to talk with you for a moment.”
He stopped a few feet from the nearest man, and he took the man’s gun gently by the barrel. “Just let me know when you’re ready to talk, and we can finish this conversation without any more problems.”
The man nodded silently, and the young man removed the pistol from his hand and slid it back into its holster. He then took the man’s hands and held them firmly against the wall of the car.
“Let go of my gun,” said the man, trying to pull free of the young man’s grip. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“No problem,” said the young man as he released his grip. “I’ve got a lot of questions, and I need to be sure that you’re not going to try anything funny.”
The man looked around at the other two men, and he tried to calm himself.
“What are you doing?” asked one of the men, who was struggling to get free of the young man’s grip. “Let us go!”
The young man ignored him, and he kept his gaze on the man whose gun he’d taken. He reached out with his left hand and took hold of the man’s coat, pulling him close enough that he could smell the scent of his breath.
“You don’t want to make me mad,” said the young man softly. “I can kill you very quickly.”
The man swallowed hard and tried to speak, but he couldn’t find the words. The young man let go of his coat and stepped back, and he looked at the three men and smiled.
“We’re done here,” he said. “Now, I’m going to ask you one more time: What are you doing here?”
The man in the trench coat nodded slowly, and he said, “We’re looking for a guy.”
“Who?”
“A guy named Blackthorne,” said the man. “He’s supposed to be some kind of wizard, and he’s got a big sword and a staff. He’s got a reputation for being tough, and he’s been causing a lot of trouble.”
“Blackthorne?” asked the young man. “I haven’t heard that name before.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the man. “He’s a wizard, and he’s made a mess of things.”
“Where is he now?” asked the young man.
“I don’t know,” said the man. “We’re just looking for him.”
“How long has he been around?”
“Since last night,” said the man. “We got word that he was causing problems, and we came down to try to stop him.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” asked the young man. “That’s what they’re for.”
“The cops don’t believe in wizards,” said the man. “They think he’s making it up. So, we’re on our own.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said the young man. “I know a lot about this Blackthorne fellow.”
“Really?” asked the man. “How do you know him?”
“I know him because I’m Blackthorne,” said the young man as he looked at the three men and smiled. “My name is Thomas Blackthorne, and I have a very special reason for wanting to talk with you.”
***
“So, where did you get that name?” asked the young man.
Thomas Blackthorne sat in his favorite chair and leaned forward slightly. The leather was worn soft from years of use, and the chair was so comfortable that he could sit there for hours without getting tired. His eyes were fixed on the young man who had entered his house, and he tried to look cool and calm even though his heart was pounding wildly.
“I’ll answer your question when you tell me how you know my name,” said Blackthorne as he reached into a drawer and took out a pack of cigarettes. He removed one and lit it with a match, and then he blew gently on the flame to make sure it was burning evenly.
“I don’t need to tell you anything,” said the young man. “You already know me.”
Blackthorne shrugged his shoulders and said, “It doesn’t really matter whether you know me or not. I’m going to ask you again: Where did you get my name?”
“I’m Blackthorne,” said the young man. “I know a lot about you. You’re Thomas Blackthorne. I’ve read a lot about you. I know that you used to be a wizard, but you’ve given it up. That’s why you don’t like the cops.”
“Yes,” said Blackthorne. “I gave up being a wizard because I was afraid of hurting people. I lost control once, and I hurt a friend of mine. I swore I’d never do that again, and I made it happen. But you know all that.”
“Do I?” asked the young man. “You might think I do, but you don’t.”
Blackthorne took a deep drag on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. He put the cigarette out in an ashtray, and he stared at the young man for a moment before he spoke.
“I’ve been working hard to learn magic,” said Blackthorne. “I can feel it inside me, and I know that I’ll eventually be able to use it again. But, I’m not ready yet. So, I work hard and train every day.”
“I see,” said the young man. “And you think that makes you a wizard?”
“What else would I call myself?” asked Blackthorne. “I’m still working toward my goal, and I’ve been trying to find the right kind of training. I want to be a wizard again, but I need to learn how to control it first.”
“I know you’re Thomas Blackthorne,” said the young man. “I know a lot about you. I know you were born in Seattle, Washington, and you’ve got a brother named Peter. I know you grew up on a farm and had a hard life until you were old enough to get a job in town.”
“That’s right,” said Blackthorne. “I was born in Seattle, and I lived there for most of my life.”
“And you have a wife who died many years ago,” said the young man. “She was a beautiful woman, and she was killed by a wizard.”
“Yes,” said Blackthorne. “That’s true. She was killed by a wizard. But I didn’t kill her. It was one of the wizards who was looking for me. They found me and tried to take me away. I managed to escape, and I came here to hide. That’s why I work so hard to train my magic.”
“The wizard who killed your wife is coming after you again,” said the young man. “He’s trying to get revenge for what he did, and he wants to finish what he started.”
“That’s impossible,” said Blackthorne. “I’m not going to let him do that. I’m just not ready yet.”
“Then I suggest you stay out of his way,” said the young man. “Or else you’ll lose more than you care to think about.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Blackthorne. “Who are you? How do you know me?”
“You’re Thomas Blackthorne,” said the young man. “I’m your son.”
***
Thomas Blackthorne was standing in the middle of his living room, staring at his son. He’d never seen him before, but he knew that the young man was his. The resemblance was too strong, and the questions had been answered quickly and clearly.
“How can you be my son?” asked Blackthorne. “We’ve never met.”
“I don’t really remember much,” said the young man. “I was brought up as a normal kid, and I didn’t realize how special I was until I got older. I don’t even know how I became a wizard, and I have no idea how to use it.”
“I used to be a wizard,” said Blackthorne. “But I gave it up because I wasn’t ready.”
“How did you become a wizard?” asked the young man. “Did you learn magic from your father?”
Blackthorne nodded slowly and said, “My father was a wizard, and he taught me everything he knew.”
“Are you going to teach me how to use my magic?” asked the young man. “I want to be a wizard like you.”
“You want to be a wizard?” asked Blackthorne. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I can feel it inside me,” said the young man. “I know I’ll eventually be able to use it, but I’m not ready yet. I need to train hard and get better at controlling it.”
“I don’t think so,” said Blackthorne. “It’s too dangerous. I made the wrong choice when I chose to give up my magic.”
“I know what happened,” said the young man. “You were caught by one of the wizards who were looking for you, and they tried to take you away.”
“Yes,” said Blackthorne. “That’s right. I was caught, and I managed to escape. That’s why I came here to hide. I needed to work hard and train myself to be a wizard again.”
“And you thought I could help you?” asked the young man. “You’re talking about using magic. What are you planning on doing with it? I’m sure you know how dangerous it is.”
“I have no intention of using it,” said Blackthorne. “I just want to be prepared in case anything happens. It’s not safe to use magic in this world.”
“What makes you think that?” asked the young man. “I’ve seen some things that have gone against what we all thought was possible. I’ve heard about a woman who was born without the ability to see, but she can now see. I’ve seen someone who has been deaf and blind since birth, and now he can hear and see.”
“Those people aren’t wizards,” said Blackthorne. “They’re different. They were born with an extra gift.”
“But they have the same gift as me,” said the young man. “I was told I’d never be able to see or hear, and now I can do both.”
“If you want to learn how to use your magic,” said Blackthorne, “then I suggest you go somewhere else and train. I don’t have the time or the patience to train you. I’m busy trying to survive.”
“I’ve already trained,” said the young man. “I know what I need to do, and I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I know what I can do, and I have the ability to make it happen.”
“So you’re going to use your magic then?” asked Blackthorne. “I knew that you would try to use it sooner or later. You always did when you were younger. I didn’t realize it had been so long since you used it. But now you’ll have to accept the consequences.”
“I know what I’m doing,” said the young man. “And I know how to protect myself from the wizards. I can handle them if they come after me.”
Blackthorne turned to leave the room, but he stopped suddenly and looked back at his son. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this, but he felt compelled to help him.
“You’ll be coming with me,” said Blackthorne. “We’re leaving this place and going to another country. I need to be away from here, and I want you to be with me.”
“What about my mother?” asked the young man. “I don’t want to leave her behind.”
“Your mother will be fine,” said Blackthorne. “She’s a wizard too, and she can take care of herself. She knows what she needs to do, and she won’t let anyone stop her. I’ll come back for you and bring you home when you’re ready.”
The young man nodded and said, “Okay, Dad. I’ll come with you, but you have to promise you’ll come back for me.”
“I promise,” said Blackthorne. “I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
The End