Expiration Date by Eric Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

attack.”
    “I’m here to work. Show me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
    Blomberg weighed this riposte, pursed his lips, then clapped a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “Get to it. What’re you standing around for?” He pointed back along the runners. “Digs … he’s the guy with the fuzzy ears. He’ll show you the way we do things around here.”
    “Digs?”
    “He’s been called that as long as I can remember. He can tell you the story if he wants. No loitering though, not on my clock, not on my payroll. You got that?”
    “Your time is precious. Got it, Mr. Blomberg.”

    “Please, A.G., be seated.”
    “You first.”
    Exerting his authority, Asgoth placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder andguided him through the Burlington Depot toward a corner table. All around, townsfolk conversed over hotcakes and sausage links. Monde slid into a seat, craned his neck for a view through the window. On the opposite street corner, the Finnish locomotive stood on display, freshly painted yet largely overlooked.
    “Engine 418.” Monde whistled. “Quite a specimen, I must say.”
    Asgoth nodded, afraid his voice would betray his obsession with the train. The fact he had stumbled upon it here, halfway around the world, suggested an appointment with destiny.
    The Consortium demanded of him a hundred thousand dollars. Based on time-tested formulas, this meant two thousand per citizen or ten percent of Junction City’s average annual income.
    Seed money for turned eyes and deaf ears.
    If the tales were true, this train held the key to riches far beyond that. Enough to sow corruption throughout the entire county—perhaps the entire state.
    “Is it true, A.G., that the train is cursed?”
    Asgoth snapped his head around. “How do you—”
    “Don’t look so shocked. For quite some time, I’ve known of her link to our past, but I’ve kept the information to myself. Here and there, I’ve heard whispers that ancient forces stand watch over her secrets.”
    “Misfortune and grief to all but the innocent.”
    Monde seemed riveted by the recitation of the curse.
    “More than a few times I’ve tried to go on board,” Asgoth said.
    “The result being?”
    “It’s impossible, as if it reads your intentions. It’s like being impaled on a fence crafted from spears of fire. But listen, Monde, take a crack at it. If pain’s your thing, you’ll enjoy every second.”
    “I tried this morning,” Monde confessed. “It hurt like hell.”
    “Which means we have to find someone innocent enough to help.”
    “Innocence is a misnomer. It doesn’t exist.”
    “Not in the way most think, but I may’ve found a young boy who fits the bill.”
    “Let’s hope he doesn’t meet the fate of your earlier failures.”
    “I … I don’t know what you mean, Monde.”
    “Oh, but you have no reason to hide it. We’ve all lost a friend or two.”
    “You mean William? He was my best friend. My only friend at the time.”
    “And you let him die a premature death.”
    “Are you implying I was at fault?”
    “Merely stating the obvious.”
    A waitress approached the table with place settings in hand.
    Asgoth erupted. “What does it take to get some privacy here?”
    She never even looked at him. The dishes clattered in her hands, and she hurried off, spooked by the outburst.
    Monde crossed one leg over the other, then rested his wrists together on his knee. “Are you trying to convince me you shared no blame in William’s death? Are you going to tell me you were the victim? In fact, you should’ve prevented it.”
    This was absurd. Why should he, Asgoth, need to explain himself? Yes, he was the victim; even the Consortium had acknowledged so after their investigation.
    In a rush the memories came back …
    Twelve years ago along the riverbank. A face with sightless eyes.
    Only one other person knew all that had transpired that day, and once Clay Ryker understood the weight of his obligation, once his darkest sin was exposed,