Midnight Freight

Eddie Bishop was an unremarkable man, with an unremarkable life. A man of structure and discipline, who'd never achieved anything considered extraordinary or adventurous. An ordinary man you'd see crossing the street. One you may go as far as to call a creature of habit. So how does an ordinary man wind up handcuffed to a metal pipe in a freight train boxcar? This is the question Eddie asked himself, as he came to consciousness and found himself in that exact predicament.

~

Wednesday 5:10am

As the ground shifted beneath him, the gentle sway of the carriage jostled him awake with a start. His eyes adjusted to the minimal lighting, he had two thoughts, one, where on earth was he? and two, why the bloody hell did his head hurt? A foggy memory brought about no answers, the last thing he could remember was making his journey to work ready for his 11:00pm night shift. A shift that he evidently did not make it to based on the gap in his memory and his current whereabouts. Glancing at his surrounds he sees a wall of crates. A cargo container, he notes, he's been left in some sort of cargo container.

With a banging headache, and a grunt of discomfort, he slowly tries to straighten, but finds his hands met with a pull of resistance. Looking down he takes in the handcuffs around his wrists, heavy duty, and not the fluffy kind. Looking back at him, front and centre, was the white opulent glow of a timer, slowly ticking by the minutes. The numbers flashing a countdown, a countdown to what though, he did not know. His hands were threaded through a metal pipe, meaning little movement for Eddie for the next 4 hours, 50 minutes and 7 seconds.

"What on... Damn! damn, damn!". He says with a flush of anger as he rattles the cuffs against the metal pipe over and over in frustration with every damn he expresses. Clank, clank, clank. This of course did no wonders for his still pounding head. Flexing his hands, disorientated and stunned, he sits back, and takes a deep calming breath. In and out, he repeats this exercise to steady his heart rate and blood pressure. It wouldn't do any good for him right now if he keeled over before he finds the bastard that put him there.

Closing his eyes to ease the discomfort in his head, he feels a gentle breeze through the vents of the carriage, made cooler by his lack of clothing as the no good thieves even took his security uniform and keys, leaving him in his off white cotton tank and slacks. Taking in the sounds around him, he hears the swooshing of wind that can be heard outside his new tomb, along with the steady thump of a train against tracks.

"A train... I'm on a train", he whispers calmly to no one, pondering at the realization. "Why am I on a train?". Trying to remember how he got to this point, he still pulls a blank. A sudden burst of fury explodes from Eddie, he shouts and bellows to the open air, thrashing wildly in frustration from his restricted position on the ground. "Uncuff me right now! Let me go this instant!". Off course there is no answer, not that he expected one from the silent carriage. Mid thrash, he bumps into the crate next to him, and feels a sharp thump against the top of his head. "Ahhh!", he cries as he looks for the culprit. There rolling in front of him, gently swaying from side to side as it comes to a steady halt, is a tin of beans. Looking closer he can make out the logo in a beam of light, Heinz! He got hit on his already tender head by a Bloody tin of Heinz Baked Beanz! How could this day get any worse?

"Deep breaths Eddie, stay calm!" he coaches himself. "Pull yourself together man". Clearing his throat after his little pep talk, he rolls his shoulders back and gives himself a shake of clarity. Looking for clues, he starts to carefully tap his pockets with confined movement, searching for any notes or indicators as to why he was here. Coming up empty, he stutters. No ticket, no memory. He wasn't attacked, based on him having no physical injuries (until the Bean incident of course), which leaves the only other option of drugged. He was drugged. But who would drug Eddie Bishop?

~

Some miles away from the train, rolling on its tracks, an unlikely quadruple set about events that would change Eddie Bishop's life entirely.

7 hours and 10 minutes earlier...

Tuesday 10:00pm

A man with a routine is a predictable man, which is why The Lady knew exactly when to strike. It was easy enough to nick him with the syringe, and for The Driver to maneuver him into the van, ready for a journey that he would no sooner come back from. She made sure he'd seen her face several days before in and around the complex. A few innocent run ins to evoke trust and familiarity. It was as easy as that. One, two, three. Out like a light.

The uniform came next, which was of course an important role. A role the The Artist would play to perfection, making the switch and poof... the new Eddie Bishop. Just for a night. The hat, the badge, the master key and the finger prints, all taken in a smooth transaction, unbeknownst to him. For who would look twice at the security guard of The Pinnacle? The mighty high-rise for the cities affluent elites, a treasure trove if you will, for characters such as these. And treasure they set their sights on in apartment 12B on the twelfth floor on this very night.

As The Driver quietly made his way through the late evening, bustling city streets with an unconscious and unsuspecting Eddie in the rear, The Boss leaned against the rough outer wall of the building, hidden from the soft glow of the street light, readily awaiting news that the package had been delivered. Glancing down at his Apple watch, he took note of the time that had passed, the flashing bold neon numerals read 12:00am. At that moment a notification came through, 'The dog is caged', right on cue, he thought smugly. The dominoes were falling into place, one by one. "Showtime", he whispered under his breath. It was time for the band of lawbreakers to get into position. Picking up his briefcase, with excitement and a steady stride, he eagerly makes his way to the sliding glass doors of The Pinnacle. Time for phase two to begin.

~

Wednesday 7:45am

After some time passed, with nothing for Eddie to do but glare at the towering crates of Heinz Baked Beanz, looming over him in offensive silence, he contemplates his life and how it came to this exact moment. Being there in the cool, gloomy boxcar, with its four steel walls as an impenetrable force, never mind the cuff's that he'd never be able to remove until the time ran out, he finds himself resigned to what comes next. Uncertainty on where his future leads to, comes life reflection. For him there was always the before and the after.

Before, when his life was good and full of joy. Before when his wife Mary and his girl Cleo were still with him. A time when he was happiest. They are gone now, taken from him in what some would call a tragic accident, but he would call drunk and disorderly. And after... well the after left him a cold shell of the man he once was. Going through the motions as time passed by. His neighbors would call him quiet and aloof, his boss would say silent and resilient, and his old friends would call him a grumpy old git. If you can call not yet pushing 50 old. But nearly 12 years had passed and he still remembered the dream they used to have, of relocating to the countryside. A cabin in the woods. Taking Cleo fishing on weekends, nights by the campfire. Roasting what Cleo liked to call s'mores until the marshmallow melted into a hot gooey mess. That never got to happen. None of it happened, but it's a dream he still had all the same.

The rumble of the tracks and the ache in his back brings him back to the present, away from his reminiscing. Stiffly shuffling his body from side to side on the hard wooden floor, just for some movement to keep the blood flowing, a wary eye on the tins rocking to the movement of the train, taunting him from above, he listens for any changes. The whistle can be heard from time to time as the train keeps moving ahead on its course, still no sign of stopping.

Along with the chug, chug, chug of the wheels against metal, Eddie has a recollection at the back of his mind. A bubble not yet burst, but trying to get to the forefront of his memory. Thinking of the past, started to bring back a spark of remembrance. He sees a picture of a women. Still young, maybe mid 30's, standing tall and proud. She looked like Mary... he thought this woman looked just like his Mary. Long dark locks, a soft welcoming expression... he'd seen her this past week, and then... He knows there's a connection, there's something about her, something telling him that she was the catalyst.

~

Wednesday 12:00am

Up in the high-rise, on the twelfth floor, along the plush, hibiscus red carpeted hallway, sits the newly occupied room of 12D. The Lady stands slouched against the white granite counter tops of the bare kitchen. Her sharp gaze fixed on the three items displayed on the counter top. A small bottle of ketamine, a cigarette and a lighter.

The syringe already disposed of, but the substance still remains. Odorless and tasteless, she recalls how it rendered poor Eddie unconscious in the blink of an eye. He'll wake up with a killer headache. She'd grown fond of him in the past week, but when needs must, she thought. Reaching for the bottle, she tips the last remaining evidence of the drug down the sink and pockets the vial as her phone vibrates with an incoming message. It's The Boss, 'you're up', she see's displayed on the screen. That means The Driver is on his way back... and Eddie is on a one-way track.

Picking up the cigarette and the lighter, she leaves the apartment, her pace brisk as she sets it alight, takes a drag, and lifts it towards the ceiling where the smoke alarm is ready to chirp. The alarm sounds, people will be about to evacuate and the fire department will be here in ten minutes. The Artist as security lookout, will have the hallway video recordings of them on repeat for these 20 seconds, so that they will be erased from surveillance, she'll be nothing but a ghost walking the halls.

Coming towards her, with an air of confidence in a fine Armani tailored suit, is The Boss. They pass with a nod, and exchange not a word as he slowly slips into her apartment rental. Here he will stand by for Mr Reginald Clayton to depart 12B with the rest of the residents. Her part is now done, The Lady leisurely takes the stairs to make her exit. With a front row seat, she stares up at The Pinnacle, and waits for the grand finale.

~

Wednesday 8:35am

Thundering along, the train continues at a high speed towards a destination unknown. The crates rattle and shift and Eddie remains there on the cold hard ground, continuously watching the time ticking by on his handcuffs. The flashing light tormenting him, minute after minute. What will happen when the time runs out? will it blow up? Is it a bomb? Please don't let it be a bomb he prays, not wanting to be found in pieces. There's now 1 hour and 25 minutes remaining. He starts to think again about those who put him here. He was clearly working with no amateurs. This had been premeditated. Cleverly thought out. People had been paid off to swiftly smuggle him onboard a freight train amongst the cargo at midnight. No questions asked. The Conductor. The conductor had to know he was there. And evidently was no friend of Eddie Bishops.

But this wasn't a one-man job. Still thinking about the women's face, he tries to put the pieces together. Hers was the last face he saw he concludes. He knows it in his bones. It was her. But she couldn't have acted alone. No one could carry dead weight from one location to another. There were others involved, he was sure of it, but how many though he did not know. "You won't get away with this"; he mutters in ongoing exasperation.

As more daylight slithers into the boxcar, soft beams highlighting his surroundings, he spots for the first time a device propped up atop one of the crates. How did he not see this before? A screen, there's a screen in here. A computer or ipad he did not know, but with it was a blip of hope. A link to communication. He was not left here alone. Someone would be coming for him. But who, was yet to be determined.

A shiver runs through him as a crisp gale runs through the carriage. They have his uniform, he notes again, as awareness creeps through. It must have something to do with getting into The Pinnacle. A light bulb moment becomes Eddie Bishop, along with the magnitude of what he unceremoniously became a part of this very night, "Robbers!", he shouts out with the realization. "They are a band of no good, Robin Hood wannabe, thieving robbers!".

~

Wednesday 12:02am

Two minutes. That's how long The Boss waits, eye pressed up again the peephole. The alarm has sounded, the incessant beeping ringing in his ears. Beep... beep...beep. In bated breath, he patiently bides his time for the signal... and there it it. Mr Reginald Clayton stumbles out of his room, still tucking his shirt into his beige slacks, making his way to the lit up 'Exit' sign with his young female companion in tow, blissfully unaware of the man concealed behind the door of 12D, watching him make his leave.

The Boss makes his way to Clayton's suite, master key in his grip. The satisfying click of the lock can be heard, and is the sound of victory. Music to his ears, as he enters the lion's den. A lion like Clayton deserves what’s coming to him. Case in hand, and with a firm grip, he makes his way over to the wall where she hangs, pride of place. Not unlike the Mona Lisa or the Girl with the Pearl Earring, she is also of small stature. A true beauty. Every brush stroke precise. The Lily of the Valley. Taking her in for a moment, and a moment is all he can spare, to gaze at the girl in the painting, holding a wilted lily in her delicate hand, he prepares for the switch.

Opening the black leather briefcase, sits an exact replica. Every definitive detail exact. Encompassed in Styrofoam, where she sits safely tucked away, he gently makes the transition, and swaps one for the other. With gloved hands so as not to leave a single smudge or print, the Lily of the Valley is ready for a new home. The secure lock slips into place, and he straightens and looks at The Artists handiwork now displayed on Reginald Clayton's wall, hours of work The Artist dedicated. It truly was a masterpiece. "Well, like Father like Son", he says in wonder. And smiles. A rare Cheshire grin smile. Clayton will never know the difference. Is a man who doesn't know he's been robbed even a victim?

As silently as he entered, like a thief in the night, the door of 12B is locked. The Boss swiftly makes his way down the hall and to the stairwell. Taking the back exit, as planned, there waits The Driver and The Artist. Ready and waiting in the U-Haul van. In the exact same van that has been here the last three days and now nothing but background noise to those that may pass. The exact same van that has been hired out under the name of Eddie Bishop.

~

Wednesday 10:00am

Finally, after what seemed like endless hours... endless hours of cramping in the silent carriage, the train gradually starts to reduce speed. It's slowing down... the train is slowing down he thought in glee. "Thank heavens", he gasps, looking up towards the ceiling. A single moment of despair comes next, along with the question, what happens now? What will these people do to him now that the train has arrived at its destination. Still in the dark, physically and mentally, he can only wonder, after all the efforts they have gone through to get him out of the way, what comes next for him? Will they silence him? bury him? His mind runs wild with a number of possibilities. He's seen all the movies, read all the books. The odds are not in his favor.

The screen opposite him blinks on. The bright light a beacon of dare he say hope? He looks down at the timer and sees it is coming to an end. Five minutes left. A single man's image shows on the screen. He's a mere shadow but a strong presence all the same. As he squints his eyes and looks closer, he can see that the man is wearing a mask. A bloody Zorro mask. Who does he think he is? a bloody vigilante? Well Antonio Bandera's played him better, he humphs. As the man starts to speak he can tell he is not to be trifled with. This man demands respect. The recording starts to play...

"Hello, Eddie Bishop. You don't know me but I know you. You are probably wondering how you ended up here. And the question everyone asks, 'why me?'. I can answer all of your questions now, and after you will have a choice to make."

"You bastard", Eddie exclaims as the man in the video takes a breath. "Bloody no good bastard".

"Twelve hours ago you were injected with a dose of ketamine. I do apologize for the headache and any minor side effects. Collateral damage, you understand. Whilst you were unconscious, a robbery took place in The Pinnacle".

Eddie tenses up, not liking where this is going. The Pinnacle, MY Pinnacle! He knew it. How dare they!

"You don't need to know the details. All you need to know is that your security ID was used, the video surveillance was cleaned and we have your finger prints. A resignation letter with your signature has been sent to the building along with your keys and uniform. Every heist needs a fall guy... you're the fall guy Eddie".

Eddie looks at the screen, mouth agape in shock. What? how? The smug son of a bitch, so sure of himself. No one would believe them, would they?

" Once your train comes to a stop, the cuffs will open and you are free to go. Why are we letting you go you may ask? Well as of now no known crime has been committed, and if it is discovered, well as I said, we have your finger prints. If you say anything to anyone... it is quite the story, would they even believe you? The train will reach the station in a couple of minutes and you will find a case waiting for you on the platform. I am giving you the chance for a new life Eddie, to start over. As a thank you for your...cooperation. Choose wisely".

The video cuts out, and the screen goes blank. Looking down at the handcuffs, the timer reaches its end as the train comes to a complete stop. Three, two, one... The lock releases and Eddie's hand are free. Stretching out his aching muscles, he slowly grabs the railing to pull himself to his full height. Heading towards the boxcar door, he swings it open and lets the sunlight into the dimly lit carriage. The carriage that he'd spend the last however many hours in with nothing to look at but the bloody tins of Baked Beans!

Leaning down, he picks up the fallen comrade. Original, who'd have guessed it. Rolling his eyes and stepping out onto the platform he glances to his left at the train conductor. They each look at one another, him with nonchalance and Eddie with a glare. They walk forward towards the two cases on the ground in stunned silence, the conductor with a smooth stroll and Eddie holding back with slow steps. The conductor reaches down, grabs his case and with a tip of his hat, makes his way back to the train, he starts up the engine and leaves him there. "Traitor", Eddie murmurs at the departing accomplice.

His case remains on the empty platform. Bending a knee, Eddie reaches for the case with trembling hands. Inside he finds, $100,000, an ID with his picture under the alias of Roy Gullivan, and a set of car keys. Looking up he sees a cobalt blue truck waiting for him in the empty parking lot. Aghast, he stands and paces along the platform, back and forth. Five steps forward, five steps back. The bribe in front of him clear as day, the message clear. "So the robbers think they are magnanimous robbers do they! Well how kind." he kicks a rock and howls in frustration. At his now forked road.

If he goes home, nothing is waiting for him but an empty apartment with his empty life. Possibility for arrest in the near future notwithstanding. But if he takes the bribe... nothing will bring back Cleo and his Mary, but with this money he could start over somewhere new. In a cabin, in the woods, fishing on the weekends... Back and forth he paces, time passes. Five steps forward, five steps back.

Steadily Eddie Bishop makes a decision. It may not be the right one, or even the honest one, but it was his all the same. After the last twelve hours of fright, frustration and fearing for his well-being, he comes to the conclusion that his life has been changed irrevocably. So with new purpose, he takes the first step towards the unknown. Leaning down, he picks up the case and makes his way to the waiting truck, payoff in one hand and the lowly tin of beans in the other. Starting up the engine, the life of Roy Gullivan is about to begin.