“This ain’t the time for a bloody nap, mate!” Someone exclaimed, slapping me frantically in the face. I sat up from the cold floor. Dizzy and a bit nauseous. I felt a trickle through my hair and down the back of my neck. A quick swipe of my tremoring hand let me know it was blood. Everything around me was blurred and unsteady. Someone’s dark frame hovered closely in front of me. Too close. I hastily tried to back away from the unknown figure, but couldn’t get far.

“What’s the matter with you? Get the hell up!” the man yelled. His British accent spilled out coiled with the stench of beer and cigarettes. My focus gradually began to return but the throbbing pain in my head made me clench my eyes shut. The sound of roaring metal around me pierced through me. The unnatural rumble of the room made me even more queasy. I tried to get to my feet but lost my footing. Looking down, I realized I had slipped into a pool of blood underneath me. The fingers of the dead body next to me brushed up against my hand.

I shrieked at the deceased face staring back at me. “What the fuck!” I shouted. The man in front of me reached out, but I slapped his hand away. “What the fuck is going on here? What’s happening?” I barked at him. He slowly stepped back with a look of dread. “Oh no…” The man murmured fearfully over and over. “Fellas, I think we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

Two more men ran towards us. “What’s the matter?” one of them asked. “Get him up!”

“Tried that, mate. He’s not having it,” the British man replied. “I think he got knocked on the noggin a bit too rough. Can’t tell heads from tails.”

I wiped the blood from my hand onto my pant leg and grabbed onto the seat next to me, finally feeling steady enough to stand. The scenery in the train windows blew past like a long smeared painting. Panic sunk in as I looked over at the dead train conductor on my far left. “Who are you?” I questioned. “Who the hell are these dead people?” The men gazed back in shock. The assault rifles in their hands froze me stiff.

“You did this. You killed these people, didn’t you? Who the hell are you guys? Tell me!”

The two men examine me, but not for very long. “Look,” the shorter man started, “Let’s just kill the idiot and get the hell off this goddamn train! This isn’t the time to play catch up!”

“We’re not going anywhere until we open the safe. Come hell or high water,” replied the large man next to him.

“Fuck the bloody safe!” the British man chimed in. “What good’s a bunch of jewels if we’re all smashed to bits, huh?”

The tall man grunted and began to make his way toward the front of the train car. The other two followed him, leaving me behind. Anger rose within me. I could feel the heat rushing up to my face. As the men moved forward, I noticed the barrel of a 9mm pistol coming from under one of the seats in front of me. Creeping slowly to the weapon, I picked it up and wrapped my arm around the neck of the British man from behind. I held the gun up close to his head.

The others spun around and instantly pointed their assault rifles at me.

“Ok, mate. Easy now,” the British man reasoned.

“Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on here, or I’m blasting this bastard’s fish and chips all over this fuckin’ train!” I demanded.

The two men didn’t budge. Their guns trained on me with steady precision. They stared into me, searching for a glimmer of fear. I made sure they didn’t find any.

“Alright, mate. Calm down. Let’s talk this one out, eh? The British man suggested. “No need to make a mess of things. Well, a bigger one, I guess.”

I tightened my grip around his throat and pressed the gun firmer against his oily hair.

“The name’s Bishop,” the British man shared. “That big bloat is Kingsley. He’s the head honcho here. And that there’s Knightingale next to ‘em. We just call ‘em Gale. Don’t want the wanker getting a big head, now do we?”

“Does that make me the Rook?” I mocked.

“Well, well! There’s finally a smart one with us!” Bishop replied.

“Why’d you kill these people?”

“Well, that one next to you tried to bash your head in. Looks like he did a pretty good job if you ask me. And the one over there was controlling the train. Tried to play hero for the newspapers.”

“What are you doing here? What am I doing here?”

“You see that safe over there?” Bishop pointed to a medium-sized safe that sat on the floor of the train car. “That’s plum full of jewels. You got wind of one of the fancy passengers in the back transporting them to a museum. The decoy is driving through the city but the real deal is in that safe.”

“What do you mean ‘I’ got wind?”

“Well, mate, this whole thing was your idea.”

Before I could ask anything else, Bishop swiftly maneuvered his way out of my grasp. I pointed the gun directly at his face as fast as I could. Bishop raised his hands in the air, letting his assault rifle hang from the strap around him. “Now, now, now. Listen,” he continued. “The Queen back at the drop house gave us this job from a tip you got. We were here doing the job and got into a bit of a scuffle. He got you pretty good in the head there and now you can’t seem to remember a thing.”

I took a second to contemplate what Bishop was saying. I glanced at the men, the bodies, and the safe. My head was still pounding. I didn’t have much to go off of, so I decided to accept the story for the time being. The men behind Bishop lowered their weapons as I tucked the pistol into the back of my pants. Bishop took a deep breath and grinned a bit. “For a second there, I thought I was a goner!” he exclaimed. “No thanks to you two. How’d you let him grab me?”

The men scoffed in reply to Bishop. “Well, fuck off then!” Bishop yelled, spitting on the floor. “How can we stop the train? I asked. “Why is it going so fast?” Bishop looked back at me and pointed to Gale. “That asshole can’t seem to control himself. Got all trigger happy when the little old train conductor gave him one to the face.”

“Fuck you, man! He hit me! What was I supposed to do?” Gale barked.

“Maybe not kill the one person that knows how to drive this thing!” Bishop replied.

Gale flicked off Bishop with his long dangly middle finger. I walked past them and went to the control panel of the train. Everything through the large windshield rushed by increasingly faster. Before I started feel sick, I turned my attention downward to investigate the panel for anything that could help. The handle to the emergency brake laid broken off next to the slumped train conductor. Emergency lights flashed on the control panel, giving warnings of the train’s unsafe speed.

“Rook!” The deep spine-chilling voice startled me. I tried around to see Kingsley standing directly behind me. “Get over there and open the safe!” The puzzled look on my face was something Kingsley was not happy to see. I shook my head in confusion. “What do you mean?” I asked. Bishop hurried up to us. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he started. “The bastard got conked on the head and lost his memory. He doesn’t remember the number.”

Before I could respond, Kingsley grunted harshly and walked away. He aimed his assault rifle at the safe and began firing at it. The rest of us covered our faces. Once the clip ran out of bullets, Kingsley started repeatedly bashing the dial of the safe with the end of his gun. “Rook, listen up,” Bishop shouted over the racket. “The Queen gave you, me, and Gale a number of the combination to that safe. To keep us honest. You got the last number. We really need you to think long and hard about what she gave you.”

I tried to focus on any number that came to mind. Anything that seemed reoccurring. Nothing clicked. The train sped on, unwilling to lend any patience. I racked my brain, closing my eyes to concentrate on anything before I got knocked out. Grinding metal from the train rails and the ringing in my ears from Kingsley’s gun filled my entire head.

“Could you shut up for a second?” I yelled. Kingsley's face became enraged.

“What did you just say to me?” He hissed.

“I can’t think straight with you banging that gun over and over,” I replied.

My tone tapered off, ignoring my inner efforts to seem stern. Kingsley threw his rifle to the floor and cracked his neck. His expression was like uneven masonry. Stiff and impenetrable. He began to pace toward me when suddenly, the sound of screeching steel filled the air. The shift of the train made us all lose balance. I grabbed onto the chair next to me and looked through the windshield to see the train drastically slowing down.

“What the hell was that?” Gale blurted. “Was that you, Rook?” I shook my head, raising my hands to show I hadn’t touched anything. Bishop took a few steps closer and looked through the windshield behind me. “We got company, fellas!” he shouted, pointing at the scene through the window. We all peered out and saw the line of police lights in the distance.

“How the hell did they stop the train?” Gale asked.

“Must have been some sort of remote safety measure at the train station,” Bishop replied.

“They sent the cops the location of the train too,” I added.

Bishop walked over to Kingsley. The sense of urgency was almost tangible. “Kingsley, we gotta get the fuck out of here or we’re all gonna be in the slammer by dinner!” Kingsley shoved Bishop away from him. The momentum almost took him off his feet. “We’re not leaving without the jewels,” Kingsley snarled. Bishop stood back up straight. “And how do you suppose we do that? Huh? Kiss it and say ‘please’?”

The train eventually eased to a stop and the police officers ahead ran toward us. The number of them compared to us made me ill. “Rook,” Bishop started, “It’s now or never. Do you know the number or not?” My mind raced. I rummaged through my thoughts for anything that could help us. After a few seconds, the number “42” came into my head. I focused on the number trying to identify where it came from.

Then I remembered. The Queen had mentioned the number was important to her from a novel she used to read a lot when she was younger. I recalled how comfortable she had gotten with me during my time with her. She had grown quite fond of me since I had joined the team. The smile on my face seemed to reassure the men. “I think he’s bloody got it, boys!” Bishop exclaimed.

Gale and Bishop kneeled in front of the safe and turned the dial to their numbers. They made way for me when they were finished. I took a deep breath and carefully turned the dial to the right, making sure I didn’t pass my number. The gentle click of the safe unlocking carried chills through my whole body. Cheers of joy erupted from behind. I turned to Bishop and Gale in disbelief before being thrust out of the way by Kingsley.

Kingsley snatched the safe door open. His grubby hands reached in and pulled out a fist full of diamonds. His grunt of pleasure was surely as close to gratitude as I was going to get. He stuffed the jewels into his pocket and slammed the door shut. “Now,” Kingsley ordered, reloading his rifle. “Let’s get the hell off this train.” We checked the window before busting out of the train car. The cops were almost to us. “We’re gonna have to cause some trouble,” Bishop stated.

Before anyone could object, Kingsley began to shoot in the direction of the officers, seemingly only wanting to bide time so he could get to cover. The others followed his method. We ran for cover behind some nearby vehicles. “This is the police!” a muffled voice snapped from behind through a megaphone. “Come out with your hands up!”

“We really did it now, didn’t we boys?” Bishop jeered. Kingsley cautiously scanned the area. “The only way out of here is that way,” Kingsley shared, nodding his head sharply to the left. He pointed at some concrete barricades a fair distance away. “Gale, you take cover there. We’ll trail behind you. You’re gonna need to run your ass off.” Gale nodded.

He took a moment to check the area himself. Before long, he sprinted toward the barricades. Bishop and Kingsley began firing to cover Gale. The rapid shots stung my ears. I tried to cover them but it didn’t help. Suddenly, a welp came from Gale and he fell to the ground. He held his leg with one hand and began to fire in the directions of the police with the other. After a couple of seconds, shots filled Gale and he dropped his weapon as he passed away.

“Shit!” Kingsley roared. He ran toward Gale and began firing at the officers. They returned fire. Shot after shot missed Kingsley until one pierced the side of his head, fatally dropping him to the ground. Only a few inches from Gale. “Well, mate,” Bishop muttered, “I guess it’s just the two musketeers, eh?” He quickly peered over the trunk of the car we were hiding behind. Then he jumped up, slid across it, and ducked behind another vehicle a few down from where they were.

My breathing began to pick up. The shots became more sporadic, easing my ears a bit. I regretted not grabbing a weapon from the train. But after what felt like a few seconds, the gunshots turned into an explosion behind me. The vehicle Bishop was next to blown up. A gasp ripped from within me at the sound of the eruption. I pressed against my ears as hard as I could. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t suppress the sound of flames.

Suddenly, I heard a stampede of footsteps rushing towards me. I quickly grabbed my pistol. Knowing it could be my last moment, I tried to give myself a second of anything good I could remember. Anything at all. Nothing came to mind.

I clutched the pistol tightly and took a deep breath. I was readying myself for the end, when suddenly the rumbling of footsteps stopped. I looked up in shock waiting to be taken out the same way my friends were. An officer glanced at me from over the edge of the car I was behind. “Hold your fire!” she shouted. I looked up at her in bewilderment. She ran over to the side of the car I was on.

“Stone? Are you alright?” Her face showed real concern for me. My confusion worried her further. She got down on one knee and rapidly looked me over.

“Stone, were you hit?” she asked.

“I- I’m not ‘Stone’,” I replied.

The officer tilted my head and noticed the blood left on the car from the back of my head. Her disturbed face grew worse. She stood to her feet and waved her hands in the air. “We need a medic now! Hurry!” Frantic beeps of radios filled the air behind me.

“What’s happening? I asked. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Am I going to jail?”

The officer kneeled again. “You’re officer Sheldon Stone. You’ve been undercover working with The Chessmen for almost a year as their new Rook. It looks like you’ve had severe trauma to the head and lost your memory. A medic is on the way to help you.” Suddenly, a buzzing in my pocket catches my attention. I pulled the cell phone from my pocket.

The caller was The Queen.