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[[My case certainly was in the passenger train, because I felt like altering the tense about halfway through writing it. Hope nobody minds this, but I felt I wanted to keep the story in third person. Hopefully you can still enjoy it this way...]]
Clark found the repetitive thumping of the train to be very relaxing even if the temperature was not. Being nearly August, he had thought by heading west he might escape the heat wave that was gripping the East Coast, but it seemed to have stretched its fiery touch over the entire country.
Clark sat in the smoking car with his face against an open window from which hot air was flooding in. He remembered hearing something about a machine that was able to “condition the air” so that gentlemen like himself would not be bathed in sweat on hot days like this, but unfortunately such a device was still off in the future. For now, he was trying to keep cool by waving his 10-gallon Stetson in front of his face, but it offered little comfort. Instead, he tried to focus on the job at hand.
He was currently on a trip to Kansas City. It seemed the town was booming of late even if it is a bit lawless. His company, one of the top pistol and rifle distributors in the Philadelphia area, was considering a little expansion and a town as wild as Kansas City certainly could use a quality firearm distributor. Of course, Clark carried a trunk full of their finest models. These shiny, accurate weapons sold themselves even if he didn’t know how to fire them. He glanced out the window and took in the beauty of the undeveloped countryside while considering how much profit he’d be able to pocket for himself.
However, his fantasies of newfound moneys were cut short by the sound of a distant rumble. At first, he thought a thundercloud had raced up on the train, but when he looked to the sky, it was blue as far as he could see. Still, the thunderous sound grew nearer as if its creator were almost on top of train. Clark reached for the pistol he kept on his hip and gracefully pulled it from his holster. Now if he could only remember how to load the damn thing, it might just be of some use.
Then a rifle shot filled the air, and Clark ducked his head instinctively. Glancing around nervously, he noticed that the car is empty save for himself and a young man wearing torn jeans and a T-shirt. Clark lifted the finely crafted Magnum to his face, to find that there is still one bullet in the chamber. "Ought to be enough," he muttered to himself.
The young man hadn't moved in all this time, sitting with his back to Clark a few seats forward. He stood and straightened his suit, casually stepping over to where the young man was seated. "Excuse me, sir..." Clark nudged the man with the barrel of his gun, and was greeted with silence. He tried once more to rouse the young man from his apparent slumber, finally taking notice of the spreading pool of blood at the young man's feet. "My goodness! What trickery is this?!" exclaimed Clark, frantically looking around the car for any possible attackers.
After a few tense minutes of searching the car, Clark decided to head for the front of the train. His case was in the passenger car, three cars ahead. He wiped the blood from his shoes on one of the seats, being careful not to get any on his suit. Clark stood in the center aisle of the car, and purposefully straightened his hat. "Time to get to the bottom of this thing," he said, smiling to himself. Something had come over Clark, making him feel more alert and capable. Looking down at his hands, he noticed that they were steady -- a good sign.
Striding towards the sliding door to the next car, Clark felt himself feeling physically stronger. It was if he had just kipped on some liquid courage, but he had been on the wagon for months now. Clark opened the door with one hand, putting the barrel of the Magnum out in front. Passing over the slightly rocking, wind-whipped space between cars proved no challenge for Clark; he simply jumped over the yawning gap and landed on the other side with the grace of a cat. He absently wondered why he seemed so spry for his years, but dismissed the thought to concentrate on his surroundings. The small glass pane set at eye-level in the next door was broken, as if someone had punched it but not shattered it. There was a dark red stain on the other side of the glass, as well.
Clark tried pulling the door open, to no avail. It was being held in place by something beyond his vision. He quickly decided that going over the roof of the train was his best option; dangerous as it might be. He holstered his Magnum and scaled the ladder in record time, making sure to keep his footing on the unstable roof. There was nobody on the top of the car, and in the distance he could see that the train would be going into a tunnel. He didn't have much time.
He moved as fast as he could, one hand on his Stetson and one hand on his Magnum. The feeling of the grip in his hand gave him solace from the harsh wind and flying debris. There was no sign of what had made the noise earlier, but Clark did notice that the roof of the next car was darker, as if it had been scorched. As soon as he had made his way to the front of the car, he climbed down the ladder and stood on the platform below. Across the gap, on the other car, the door had been shattered by some great force. The hinges were warped as if some great heat had melted them.
Passage across to the other car was as easy as before, but Clark nearly tripped when his toe stubbed on a broken piece of flooring. He stumbled into the next car, coming face to face with the strangest being he had ever seen. It stood roughly five feet tall, had pale blue skin and was completely devoid of any clothing. It was wearing some sort of glass fishbowl over its head, however. He drew his Magnum and shot it square in the chest, hurling it across several seats and sending some kind of greenish liquid spraying in all directions. Clark wished he hadn't done it, but it was too late. The creature had surprised him, and he had reacted.
Searching in the full light of the countryside quickly turned into searching in the dim interior light, which was being provided by cheaply made electric bulbs. Clark hesitated over the body of the little blue man, taking a better look at its grotesque facial features through the fishbowl. It had no nose, no ears, and only a small, lipless mouth. Its eyes were gargantuan, taking up nearly the entire face. They were very much like Human eyes, he decided. He dismissed it as not being one of God's creatures, but startlingly like Humans. Clark placed his gun in its holster, and turned for the door. As he began to walk, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around...
"We were here to help you, you schmuck! Now look what you did to Dim, here. Sometimes, I don't know what they pay us for. Christ on a crutch, will you LOOK at this mess?!" A taller version of the blue-skinned creatures stood before him, shouting and gesticulating wildly. He understood what the creature had said, but was only beginning to process that the creature had said it -- in perfectly un-accented English. "Who are you?" asked Clark, lamely.
"I am Gim. That is all you need to know. Now please sit down over there while I fix this all up."
Clark sat as he was commanded, not feeling at all up to the task of running away. He saw the creature take a silvery contraption from behind its back, and aim it at the corpse of Dim. A few seconds later, the corpse vanished; along with all the green liquid. Clark felt all the energy rush out of him, leaving him tired and winded.
"The reason you feel dizzy is because Gim was carrying a hyperspatial flux junction capacitor. When he left the area, the effects vanished, also leaving you in poor condition. Now, I am going to take your weapon from you. You will not resist me or try to harm me. Do you understand?"
Clark only wanted to crawl into the nearest bed and sleep for the next thousand years. He felt disoriented and weak from the exertion. He didn't say anything, and only watched as the creature bent down and took his Magnum. "And now, for my next trick, I'm going to just zap you back into the past. Nobody'll know the difference, and now those nasty Mafioso-types won't bother you. Just remember to remain calm, and never put all your eggs in one basket."
Clark woke up suddenly, hearing something like a rifle-shot and instinctively ducking his head. Looking around, he saw that he must've been imagining things; there was nobody else in the car. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and yawned. He remembered that his secret stash of weapons was under his seat, and that upon arriving in Kansas City, he had to deliver them to his boss, Mr. Gim. Clark was contented, and went back to sleep.
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[[A note on word count: The story starter is 359 words, and my text is 1,227. I figure this falls on the near side of "around 1,000 words". I sincerely hope you folks don't mind my impudence ;) Oh yeah, and I was aiming for Pulp style. Please let me know if I fell short of this mark.]]
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For once as I, in Heaven climbed
Too high for truth to truly see
My sunken mind, drunken and blind
Saw the lie: The fool was me...
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Chocolatl
