A smoky haze clung in the air. The smell of burnt Tobacco seared its way into the nostrils of every patron in the train car. Every eye shifted about, trying to glimpse even one sign of weakness amongst the others at the table. The car rocked casually side to side, lulling the obese man in the corner into a deep sleep, just like a mother rocks her baby. The only people standing were the serving girl, who was only ever noticed when she bent down to fill ones’ glass, which revealed her bountiful breasts, and the bartender behind the small bar counter.

“It’s your play, Orville.” The bald man shifted his monocle, his eye surveying the cleavage before him. He puffed down on his pipe, blowing more smoke into the air. “Don’t keep us waiting all afternoon.”

“Keep your hat on.” Orville retorted while he glanced down at his cards. It was far from a good hand, but he had to keep the game going long enough for his brother to catch up to the train. There was a strict time limit he had to follow. He couldn’t be early or late, and he was dealt a bad hand. It could force him from the game before his time. Bad luck seemed to follow him around ever since he was young, but today he would come out on top, he knew it.

“You got to ante up, or drop out.” The thick-built Croupier twirled his moustache as he stared down Orville. “What’s it going to be?” His voice sounded like rocks rolling around a barrel. He folded his arms, which were as round as the largest Oak stumps. His eyes never left Orville. He was already suspicious of the man, expecting the worst of the low-class vagabond.

Orville fingered the last two dollars he had in his coat pocket. It was the last of the money his brother and him had. The only two dollars that was supposed to feed them and their thirst for a better flying machine. Not only was he gambling money at the table, but he was gambling on the success of their future.

“Me thinks he’s got no good cards, yes?” The man to Orville’s right chuckled as he sucked down a long cigar. His beard was rife with white streaks. The man exhaled the odorous smoke, the skin around his lips wrinkling. “If I were a buffoon, I would still be able to tell.”

“Ahem.” The Croupier cleared his throat, eyes glaring at Orville. “What’s it going to be?”

Orville glanced around carefully. He pulled a dollar from his pocket, “Please, gentlemen, I was just going to buy us all a round.” He held the dollar above his head for the waitress to take, “Whisky for all. Would you dear?”

He smiled through his teeth, trying to throw off suspicion, but now he was down a dollar. He swallowed the lump in his throat. This had better pay off. He pulled the last dollar from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Alright, let’s see them cards, gents.”

The man with the monocle flipped his cards over nonchalantly. He cared not the outcome of any game so far, only for the waitress and her chest, which he ogled frequently.

The bearded fellow flipped his cards over, taking a large puff of his cigar. He smiled wide, his skin creasing across his face. He spoke through the smoke billowing from his mouth, “Royal flush, boys.” He chuckled before letting out a deep cough.

Orville glanced down at his cards. A pair of jacks was all he had. Not enough to beat out the bearded man. He glanced up at the Croupier, who in turn was eyeballing Orville. The Croupier twisted his mustache with one, meaty hand, the other crossed over his chest. Orville heard the footsteps of the waitress approach with a small tray of whiskeys in her hand.

“Here you are, sir.” She handed the glass to Orville with a wink.

Any other situation, he would have tried to seduce the woman, but there was too much riding on this now. He was soon to be out of his last dollar. He held the glass firm, his eyes darting between the patrons. Monocle was eyeing the lady again. Beardy was having a coughing fit. Obese man was asleep in the corner, and the bartender was cleaning a glass.

Orville made a split second choice of what to do next. He smiled and cocked his head to the side. He threw down his cards, “Pair of Jacks.” He rose his glass to his lips as the Croupier squinted with bafflement across his face. Before Orville took a sip, he quickly splashed the drink into the Croupier’s face. He stood quickly, knocking his chair down behind him. In a flash, a revolver appeared in his hand. “Nobody move.” He slowly moved it over to the bearded gent, “And drop your pistol.” Orville glanced to the ground.

Before the man could act, Orville shot his hand to the small of his back, producing a second revolver. He blasted backwards without looking. Everyone flinched from the gunshot, except for the obese man who snoozed like a cat in the morning sun. Glass shattered above the bartender, showing the man in bourbon. He was half bent over, reaching for something under the bar top. Orville glanced over his shoulder, “Stick to pouring drinks, eh?”

“Everyone against the wall.” Orville pointed with one of his guns, “Except for you.” He pointed the other at the Croupier. “You give me all the money you got stashed under the table.”

The Croupier wiped the whisky from his blood-red eyes, “I knew something was off about you.”

“Then you should’ve thrown me out when you had the chance, you overgrown oaf.” Orvilled pointed down, “The money, please.”

The passengers all filed against the wall, except the Croupier, who placed a small safe on the poker table. “I won’t tell you the combination. We’ll be stopped at the next town before you can crack it.”

Orville took the money from the table and stuffed it into his pockets. He slipped one of his guns into the small of his back, smiling devilishly as he did so. “I don’t need the combination. My brother is quite good at cracking safes.” He reached out for the safe, “Thank you all for your contributions.” He glanced at the waitress, “Sorry for the distress, m’lady,” he looked over the other patrons, “And it was fun while it lasted gentlemen. But I must take my leave.” He hefted the small safe from the table, almost dropping it was the weight pulled him down.

“There’s nowhere for you to run, Orville, the marshals will scour every town you try to hide in within a hundred miles of here.” He crossed his bear-sized arms, “The only way out of here is if you somehow sprout wings and learn how to fly.” He chuckled along with the other men.

Orville grinned, “That’s what I plan on.” He quickly opened the back door to the train car. Air rushed out of the car as he glanced side to side. Wind whipped around him in a violent fury. The chugging of the rail cars blotted out every other sound, save for the rushing of the wind. He took one last look into the casino car. The obese man began to stir from his chair. The others were shouting at him, and the man looked right at Orville. This was his only chance to escape.

Orville glanced to his right. A ladder led to the top of the car. He holstered his revolver and started the climb. His arm sagged with the weight of the iron safe. Each step upwards was a feat of strength. He peeked over the top of the train car, before him was a white roof with one small chimney. With one last heave, he threw the safe up and over the ledge. He pulled himself over just in time to see the obese man emerge from the car, a pistol in his hand. The man fired, splintering the wood next to Orville’s head. Orville’s eyes went wide. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He turned and grabbed the safe, heading to the front of the car before the man could ascend the ladder.

He stopped dead in his tracks, as ahead of him he saw the thick, hairy arms of the Croupier flap over the edge of the roof. The man’s head emerged, along with that glorious mustache. The Croupier climbed over the ledge with ease, shotgun in hand. He aimed it at Orville, “It’s over, lad, give up.”

Behind Orville was the obese man with a pistol in hand. “I’m a U.S. Marshal, boy, come now, you’re under arrest.” His gun was raised at Orville’s chest, “Just lie down and surrender your weapons and no one has to get hurt.”

Orville glanced back and forth at the men. He was trapped. Each side of the train was rocky mountainous terrain. He looked up at the Marshal, “Alright, I’ll do it.” He reached into his coat slowly, pulling out a metal object. He glanced down at his stopwatch, popping it open to see the time.

“This is your last warning, boy. Don’t make me blast a hole in you even the doctors can’t fix.” The marshal’s jowls bounced as he spoke. Wind continued to flurry about the men.

Orville placed his watch back into his pocket. He smiled, “Looks like I’m out of time.”

The Marshal cocked his head to the side, his face puzzled. A loud buzzing noise filled the air. The mountains around them gave way to a bridge that spanned across a deep canyon. Orville looked down at the river far below. It was a long drop, but he wasn’t going down, on the contrary. He was about to fly.

The Croupier glanced off in the distance at a large object headed towards the train. It was flying through the air, headed right at them. “What in God’s name?” The large object buzzed closer.

Orville held onto the safe with all his might, “Good flying!” He jumped in the air as the machine buzzed overhead. He slammed into a net attached to the bottom of the machine. His eyes shot upwards into the pure white canvass above him. An engine buzzed as loud as any car. A head bobbed into view from around the side of the plane.

“Tally ho, brother!” The man smiled. His face was covered in a scarf and goggles. “I’m surprised our plan worked!”

“No thanks to you,” He added sarcastically, “Big brother.” He shook his head, “I’m the one doing all the dangerous work here. Just keep the airplane from crashing, will you Wilbur?”

Wilbur laughed into the wind, “You bet…” He was cut off from talking by several loud bangs. The plane began to shake violently, rocking back and forth as Wilbur struggled to keep it upright.

Orville glanced back at the train as it quickly faded into the distance. He saw the Croupier with his shotgun in hand, aiming at the brothers’ plane. The train quickly disappeared into the mountains across the canyon, but their plane had still taken damage.

The white canvass began to rip here and there as the wind rushed through it. Wilbur glanced down at his brother in the net, “Looks like this is it, good chap, this plane is history.” He fought with the controls, but the plane started to dip towards the ground. “It’s a shame too. This was such a good model.”

Orville looked at the river far below. It was their only chance at survival. He looked up to Wilbur, “We have to jump!” He grabbed the safe and squirmed to the edge of the net. “Come on, Wilbur! Jump!” There wasn’t much time now. The plane was headed straight into the canyon wall. Orville slid from the net and plummeted through the sky. He looked up just in time to see the plane crashed into the side of the mountain. Metal creaked, wood splintered into a million pieces, and the husk of the plane rolled down the steep mountainside.

“Wilbur!” Orville shouted into the wind as he raced towards the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes as the river came closer and closer. Wind flapped the clothes around his body in a violent fashion. Orville felt the cold iron safe in his hands. No amount of money was worth his brother’s life. No scientific adventure was worth the loss of his best friend.

Orville slammed into the river’s surface, safe first. Water enveloped him quickly as he sunk downwards with the heavy safe. Underwater boulders and rocks slammed into him as the river pulled him along. He kicked with his legs, pushing with all his might to break the surface. He grabbed ahold of a broken branch and pulled himself up to the surface. Water rushed all around him as he scanned for the body of Wilbur. Only plane debris was floating about.

Orville swam to the bank of the river and laid face down in the rocks. His body was broken and bruised, but all he could think about was his brother. He pushed the safe up onto the dry ground, wishing he could trade all the money just to see his brother one last time.

“Oh good, you held onto the safe.” Wilbur appeared from behind a bush, his clothes drenched in water. “Now we can pay for a better engine. More power would have saved us fro…”

“Dammit, Wilbur, you’re alive.” Orville shot up from the bank and hugged his brother. He ignored the pain shooting throughout his body. “I thought you were dead.”

Wilbur hugged him back, “Please, it will take more than a plane crash to kill me.” He hefted the safe up under one arm, and held his brother up with the other. “So, how was the train ride? Was there any pretty women aboard?”

Orville just scoffed and shook his head, “Let’s just get home, brother, then I’ll tell you all about it.”

The End

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