DOUBLE TROUBLE WITH THE TWIN WOLVES - THREE

C H A P T E R T H R E E - - - - T O M

"This will be a quick trip! Nothing will happen if you just stand around!" Tim snarled as he dashed down the railway cars. "I warned you that we should have boarded the midnight train and skipped work. Instead of saving the planet all over again, I might be flirting with that gorgeous piece of ass."

"Can we skip the drama queen act for the time being and dispute later? We took the assignment, now we have to finish it," Tom grumbled, his fists gripping his rifle.

People were shouting all around them, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the black flames licking the passenger vehicles' sides or because of him and Tim. They made a weird sight, plowing down the corridors with assault guns in their hands, partially dressed in their black suits from Jerome's wedding.

Tom pondered for a moment what the hot girl in the sitting room had thought when she saw them whipping out their pistols and swinging into action like a couple of Rambos from an action movie. When this absurdity was put to bed, he made a mental point to track her down. To make sure she was all right. Tim growled as he slammed a door open with his foot and slid in with ease. "When we get home, we can act like this is normal dinner conversation. Mama is going to adore it."

As they got closer to the front of the train, Tom took up a flanking position, rolling his eyes slightly. Out of the two of them, Tim had always been the melodramatic one. Indeed, dad had always been the one who got them into trouble, so the fact that it was now Tom who was getting them mixed up in other people's affairs was a rude awakening.

"We have Shiftastics for fathers. Tom muttered under his breath, his shoulders slouching forward as he had to squeeze through one of those short hallways that connected a service vehicle to a passenger one.

The smoke was thickening, creeping in through partially open windows and the couplings between the cars. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Tom was counting his blessings until he noticed how few people were on the train. It's understandable.

There were considerably more convenient methods to get to Batangas than the six-hour ride these days. Even he and Tim typically take the bus to save time and sanity, but Tom had insisted on taking the train this time.

He reminded himself that you had your reasons.

Tom sensed something wasn't right even before he noticed he had a sneer on his lips. The railroad job they'd accepted was meant to be simple. Despite the fact that his squad, Squad Six, was officially out of action due to their leader's honeymoon, they were nevertheless able to work. While the rest of the group declined, Tom insisted that he and Tim try to make some money from their journey down to see the pack.

Tim would have preferred to simply get drunk in the dining car, but he was never one to back down from a fight, and the explosives specialist of Squad Six was easily persuaded. Especially after Tom swore that nothing would happen in the first place.

He slammed against the half-rigid walls of one of the passageways while Tim took the other, hearing noises from farther down the train. They only hesitated for a moment before continuing along. No one was racing in their direction any longer; the train's front had either been emptied out or no one had been there to begin with. Tom was unsure about both possibilities.

These trains weren't normally as empty, but this one was. He had to wonder if it was on purpose, if whomever had advertised the freelancing job had ensured that most passengers would schedule their travel to the untamed South at a different time.

"I'm not hearing anything," Tom remarked, casting a glance at Tim. "Either that's fantastic for us or terrible for everyone else."

"How about both? " His brother said, tearing himself away from their position and sprinting down the last car.

All of the locks were blown open, and the path to the engine was clear ahead of them. With the heavy smoke engulfing him, Tom could only see two feet in front of him, making breathing nearly impossible. Because of his hearing, he pushed forward, listening to Tim's footsteps and following in his footsteps. When they passed by the service car, which was kept as a location for the engineer and certain supplies that were periodically needed in the freight engine, a gust of fresh air nearly struck him in the face.

Tom was expecting to see an engineer lazing someplace, but everything was deafeningly quiet right now, save for a high-pitched whine coming from the engine that didn't seem normal.

"It's locked," Tim remarked, rummaging through his pockets for something. "Not just locked, anyway. I believe the doors have been fused shut."

"Shit," Tom murmured, his jaw set tightly as he peered inside the engine room through the little gaps in the door.

Only thick, stifling smoke could be seen.

This is no little task.

"What are they supposed to be bringing in here?" Tim inquired, putting some gray putty on the door's links that looked to be the most stubborn.

"As I already stated, I never specified. I was told that knowing there will be more security during the trip would make the clients feel better. "With those Marines we've seen previously, this can't be wholly civilian," Tom pondered, knowing he'd have to back up when Tim worked his magic.

The loud, screaming cracks that had earlier rattled the entire train were nothing compared to the sound of the explosion that blew the doors wide. Tim jumped in first, as he normally does, and Tom followed. Their instruction was of the type that was deeply embedded in their DNA. It was unnecessary to think; only act. Everything was muscle memory, so they had plenty of time to recalculate and readjust if the circumstances called for it.

Tim coughed as he struggled to get past the tight freight car in front of Tom. When it came down to it, it was just one long, enormous engine block, and the engine room was undersized and tight even by train standards. Tom closed his eyes for a brief minute when his foot landed on something smooth and substantial. Obviously.

"I found the engineer," he said, lowering down to feel the man's pulse.

His hand was smeared with blood. He was still warm to the touch, but Tom couldn't do anything to help him.

"I believe I've also located the brakeman," Tim added. "As lifeless as a doornail."

“Yup.”

"Well, that's nice," Tim said wryly, shrugging passed him toward the windows.

He tried to peek out the windows and see where the smoke was coming from, slamming them shut to keep at least some of the smoke out. Though he couldn't see any alarming yellow or orange licks of fire yet, it appeared that the entire darn engine was attempting to go up in flames. He rummaged around the console, frowning, looking for the communications station. He discovered it and rolled through the frequencies, but all he heard was quiet. The communications were hacked.

"Communications are down," he remarked, pulling his phone from his pocket. "There's no reception here, either."

Regardless, he dialed the emergency number and held it up to his ear.

“Nothing. Someone is disrupting radio and cellphone coverage in this area. Whatever is going on, it isn't a minor rail robbery."

“Yeah? What gave you the heads up? Is it because no one is in the engine room and everything is smoldering like a steam engine, or did the two dead bodies really nail that one in? " Tim snorted, breathing hard and scrunching his nose as if he had inhaled something. "You know, that's not simply burning. Someone used a liquid bomb to destroy that engine."

"I guess we'd best find the brakes on this fucker," Tom grumbled, lamenting their misfortune.

Taking the job right now seems like an extremely bad idea. However, he required the funds. That was his motivation for taking on a lot of odious missions recently, including volunteering as a comms person for other teams. Any rapid reaction team would be thrilled to have him since he knew he was the best The Firm has to offer. But it was beginning to take its toll on his body and psyche, and this was just another gut punch, one of many.

Tim stood watch at the door while Tom went through the controls systematically. As with most werewolf Alpha twins, the two of them were a lethal mix. Losing was never an option because they were raised to win and excel from the time they were puppies. The Crawley brothers had always been highly competitive, whether it was in life, battle, or who could down the most shots. In that regard, they blended in well with the rest of their crew, who were all ex-SEALs and shifters.

He discovered the firm levers that controlled the brakes. He expected resistance when he pulled on the levers, but they slid back effortlessly and then flipped back to their original position when he let go. His stomach had sunk.

"Is it just me, or is this thing getting faster? " Tim inquired, scuffing his brown hair with his palm.

Tom gazed out the window and saw the landscape speeding by. He'd been on a lot of trains in his life, including this one when he was younger, and it was traveling far quicker than it should have been. Tom grimaced as he looked at the speedometer, which was steadily creeping past seventy-five already. At most, it was expected to run at a steady forty-four.

He softly acknowledged, "Yup."

His thoughts were racing. The recipe for doom was so simple that even Tom could make it up: cut off from the rest of the world, hurtling down the railroad rails like something straight out of hell, and a crippled engine.

Even though the National Railways was one of the least trafficked lines in the country, it passed through a couple of densely populated areas. They'd be completely fucked if the train came off the rails in one of them. Alternatively, everyone onboard this wretched steel coffin was probably already doomed, but jumping the track in a city would just make things worse.

When it seemed like things couldn't get much worse, the train shuddered and creaked dangerously as it sped down its devilish route. Tim and Tom locked gazes, neither of them denying the gravity of the situation.

"I'll try to figure out the communications and see what I can do to stop this." Okay, you go check out what else is going on with Thomas the fucking tank engine. " Tom replied, sinking to his knees and ripping away the panel that concealed the radio's wiring.

They could read each other's minds well enough for Tom to know that whatever he was thinking, Tim was already doing it.

"Lock and load," Tim grinned, as if Christmas had arrived early.

Tom smirked at his younger brother, who had blasted out of the engine train by a few minutes, as he liked to remind Tom. A wedding isn't complete without a little world saving.