Read Online Seven Out of Hell by George G. Gilman - Free Book Online

exhausted men. “Get some rest,” he instructed.
    “Ain’t rest we want some of, Captain,” Seward whined.
    Hedges lips curled back to show his teeth in a harsh grin. “You need to sleep,” he said. “Go off half-cocked and likely you won’t rise to the occasion.”
    “He’s got a point, Billy,” Forrest said.
    “So have I,” Seward answered dully.
    “We can all see,” Rhett put in, leering. “It’s sticking out like a sore thumb.”
    “That’s about the size of it,” Forrest responded, and guffawed as he headed for the door of the house next door.
    Down the street the women watched in silence as the Union troopers in Rebel grey entered the houses and closed the doors. Then the old man came out of the church.
    “Do you think we fooled them, Mrs. Proctor?” he asked nervously.
    The grim-faced red-head drew in a deep breath and expelled it as a sigh. “We’ve done our best, reverend,” she replied. “But I’ll feel a whole lot safer when Terry’s Raiders get here.”
    *****
    “You, you and you!” Shin said as he re-entered the car and stabbed a well-manicured finger at Alvin, Beth and Edge.
    “What?” the boy asked nervously.
    “Mr. Mao wishes to dissuade pursuit,” the Chinese replied. “So we take three hostages from each car. All hostages die if we followed.”
    An old lady with silver hair and a kindly face gasped. “Surely you cannot be so cruel?” she accused.
    Mr. Shin smiled. “We no cruel. No suffering. Kill quick.”
    The shotgun swung up and both barrels belched smoke. Many passengers covered their ears against the roar of the explosion which was almost painful within the confines of the car. The old lady no longer had a kind face. She was thrown back against her seat, then toppled forward on to the floor, the gaping, blood-spurting holes in her flesh tinged black by the powder of the short-range shot.
    “She feel no pain,” Mr. Shin announced, still smiling. In the sudden silence, he cocked his head on one side, listening. A series of shotgun blasts rippled down the length of the halted train and he nodded. “Picture worth a thousand words,” he said to the horrified passengers. “Now everyone have no doubt we mean business.”
    He barked a command in Chinese and the two guards moved away from their positions, one aiming his shotgun at Alvin and Beth, the other covering Edge.
    “You come now!” Shin commanded.
    Alvin and Beth looked over their shoulders towards Edge. The half-breed got slowly to his feet and ambled along the aisle, stepping over the dead man and glancing down at the mutilated face of the old lady. Her hair was no longer silver as it floated in a wide pool of her own blood.
    “The money fell their way,” he muttered. “Head they win.”
    The second guard made a threatening motion with his shotgun and Alvin scrambled to his feet, urging the woman to rise beside him.
    The hostages were hustled out on to the car’s platform and then down on to the grassy bank of the stream. A dozen prisoners - nine men and three women - were already there, herded into a frightened group. Other members of the gang had been spread throughout the train for there were now a score of robed Chinese surrounding the group, staring at the hostages from the deep shadows cast by their coolie hats. Four of them had the sacks of loot slung over their shoulders. The remainder, with the exception of Mad, cradled shotguns. The leader had his hands clasped under the veil of his sleeves. Shin conferred with him and Mao rapped out an order.
    Edge glanced around at his fellow prisoners and saw the near paralyzing fear lurking in eyes that still mirrored the bloody slaughter they had witnessed.
    “Mr. Mao say form two lines,” Shin instructed. “We march to camp.”
    The hostages shuffled into the formation required. Edge was at the end of the line, next to a trembling, middle-aged drummer whose face was sheened with sweat dried by the chill mountain air. Alvin and Beth were in front of