Like Falling Snow

Gavin Matthew

Cordelia Belle looked out through the train’s window, her forehead and afro pressed lazily against its clean cool surface. Kansa City’s Union Station looked peaceful covered in snow. The morning rays would make an effort to dissolve the blanket of white powder, but the December chill would prove to be too fierce. A cold breeze had warded off all the on-lookers and well-wishers, leaving the station abandoned except for a handful of workers. The blowing gusts made themselves known as they rushed against the waiting train. Cordelia tightened her coat, a furry velvety black thing, in response to the whipping winds. Just thinking about being outside brought a shiver up her spine. To hell with that, she thought. Only an idiot would risk being stuck outside at these temperatures. No sooner had the thought passed did Cordelia see a tall man in a brown suit and beige trench coat running towards the train. She looked around to alert someone, but there wasn’t a single porter in sight. Then the train started to pull off. The woman quickly turned back to see the man running alongside her window, his legs moving as fast as he could pump them. All she could do was shake her head at him as he traded stares between her and the path ahead. 

“You better haul ass, Claude!” Cordelia said as she cocked her head.

“Damn it, Cordi!” Claude yelled as he slapped the window. “Run uptrain and stop the conductor! Why are you still sitting there?! Come on!”

Cordelia gave the wheezing man a long shrug with open arms for his troubles. In response, he let loose with a slew of unintelligible gripes and swears. Eventually, his running form slowly trailed beyond the woman’s view. 

“Well, that’s not a great start,” Cordelia mumbled to herself, slumping back into her seat. Miles of white snow continued to cover the world outside the window. Kansas City was engulfed by the colorless substance, as were the open plains and plateaus that followed the rolling view. The woman took a deep breath as she turned her eyes to the car’s inner workings. Argyle carpeting decorated the floor while brass lining coupled with green coverings defined the walls. The seats were leather-cushioned and wine-colored with fancy gold buttons in them. The only objects she could see close to being cheap were the tables in the booths with their basic wooden forms sticking out like sore thumbs. Whoever the client was for this job had the money to afford their rates. Train rides had fallen out of the realm of necessity decades ago. Especially, with the rise in newfangled cars and expressways. Trains were ridden nowadays more for fun, and this train was all luxury. There was absolutely no way Cordelia or Claude could have bought a ticket under normal circumstances, but thankfully their mysterious client mailed them the tickets in advance. Big convenience. At least for Cordelia who managed to stay on the train after the “all aboard!” call. 

She couldn’t help but shake her head and sigh as she thought about that fool running alongside the train. The delusion that he expected her to stop the entire thing from moving somehow made her smirk. Foolish. Simply foolish. She took a deep breath, exhaling the eventual argument she knew to come, and grabbed a folded newspaper from the table before her. Cordelia hoped that reading would take her mind off of this job’s incompetent beginning. Maybe the news had something good and jovial to enlighten the ride. The first thing the woman read was a report that stated that there had been twenty-nine plane hijackings this year alone. A statistic that was leading the airlines to implement a luggage screening process starting after Christmas or so. Her eyes continue to scan the articles until she flipped over the paper. Then there it was centerfold with advertisements and bold lettering. The picture of the train reminded Cordelia of a fancy movie poster, not unlike the Black action flicks that were popular in the theaters. 

“The Golden Rush,” Cordelia read aloud, scoffing at the high society reviews. The Golden Rush, a famous luxury train, had survived the mass absorption of the railroad companies. It stood tall as a dream-like experience that many needed to have, and that several would talk about. Or so the ads declared. All Cordelia saw was a lush display of excess and gluttony. People were sitting pretty on this train while children went without shoes or clothes east of Troost Ave.

As the Golden Rush locked into a steady speed, the door at the end of the car next to Cordelia’s booth slid open. A tall girthy woman with ebony skin strutted down the aisle with a thick peacock blue coat adorning her shoulders. Underneath the coat, Cordelia could see a blue pants suit with matching platforms but the coat was what drew her attention. She wondered how much money such an ostentatious article of clothing would have cost. Then she began to wonder if she would get herself a peacock blue coat when this job was done. If everything went off without another hitch then she would definitely be able to afford one. The woman waltzed into the next car and was gone. Cordelia shook her head and whistled as she thought about the fancy flowing peacock blue coat.

The car door slid open again but this time it was a man who walked in. Claude took a deep breath and plopped down in the seat across from Cordelia. She simply ignored her partner, going back to the paper in her hands. A moment passed between them with nothing but silence for communication. Claude brandished a wide-tooth comb and picked out his receding afro. He then proceeded to brush and straighten out his suit, being meticulous in grooming his appearance back to normal. His gaze peeled from Cordelia and set itself on the view beyond the window. Leagues of snow-buried terrain sped by as the Golden Rush speared forward on its journey. The clear open sky gave the sight a majestic appeal reminiscent of a watercolor painting. Nature, even in the cold death throes of winter, could still manage to be gorgeous and mesmerizing. It was a needed reprieve from the man’s list of unpleasant ways he thought about starting a conversation right now. The landscape encouraged peace so Claude chose the most unaggressive path before him. He said nothing, choosing to get lost in nature’s beauty.

“This train’s got bad history,” Cordelia said, breaking the silence without leaving the paper with her eyes. “It says here that the Golden Rush was shut down back in June due to some shootings aboard. People died apparently. Months later and this train reopens as a luxury ride with doubled prices. How do you like that?”

Claude did not like it at all since he was a man who believed in signs. Recent events and details were screaming bad omens at him like a wild banshee. He had stepped off the train for what he thought was a minute to make a phone call. Most of the payphones in Union Station were out of order except for one, and that one had a mother with two kids shoved in its space. The woman spent another minute telling her husband where he could go for forgetting to pick them up. Then after a series of swears and pejoratives, Claude finally managed to use the phone to call his wife. 

“Sounds like bad ju-ju to me,” Claude replied. “The more time we spend on this, the more I’m feeling like this whole thing is trouble.”

“I bet. You just ran your Florsheims ragged trying to get aboard. I’m sure all that bad you’re feeling is between your feet and that cold hell you just sprinted through out there.” Cordelia said with a chuckle. Claude leaned back in his seat and pulled a brass pocket watch from his suit. The face read twenty-after eight but he didn’t pull it out to check the time. His thumb rubbed over a small engraving that read “From Claire with all the love imaginable” on the back of the watch. A nostalgic kaleidoscope of memories about a round-faced woman with sand-colored skin rolled over in the man’s mind.

“So, how’s Claire? Still pregnant?” Cordelia said.

“Not for long. She is ready to pop any day now.” Claude replied.

“Damn. What is that? Baby number four?”

“And counting, ya dig? She and I are working on building our own village.”

“You ain’t lying about that!”

Both partners broke out into a cheerful guffaw, resonating and disturbing passengers down the car. Claude needed a good laugh to help ease his thoughts. It seemed all he did lately was obsess over his wife. Cordelia had no problem with that in general. She liked Claire. She was pleasant in that family-wife kind of way. The problem was that he thought about her while on the job. That was risky. As much as she wanted to make sure she walked away from a gig, Cordelia would never forgive Claude if she had to face Claire and their four kids to tell them that their devoted husband/father was dead. That would be a heartbreak she could not handle. 

“Alright, enough jiving around. Let’s go find our client,” Claude said. “Remember, look for a woman in a peacock blue coat. She’s a sistah who describes herself as healthy, you know. So let’s go lay eyes on her.”

“Done, baby,” Cordelia replied with a smile.

“What? You already saw her?”

“That’s right. She walked by just before you sat down.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you stop and rap with her?”

“Because, Claude, I didn’t remember what to look out for until just now when you said what it was we were looking for! Now, we could sit here jawing on or we could agitate the gravel and catch up with her. Which one do you want to do?”

Claude sighed and shook his head as he stood up. Cordelia followed after him and together they started down the car, mentally getting ready for another day on the job. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Excuse me, sugar,” said the woman in the peacock blue coat as she grabbed a porter’s attention. “Could you be a darling and run uptrain to tell David that I have notes about the new furniture.”

The young fresh-faced man nodded and sped off, nearly knocking into Claude as he flew by. The client was standing in the path next to the private rooms, her almond-shaped eyes taking in the cold rolling view beyond the window. She stood statuesque with pride and stature. Her fancy peacock blue coat was full and long with a furry collar. Cordelia had not noticed before that the woman was sporting a blue cowboy hat on a nearly bald head. the client was a woman that would stand out in any crowd.

“Odessa Monroe?” Claude asked as they approached the woman.

“In the flesh, honey. How may I help you, folks? Any complaints about your ride with us today?”

“You don’t know us?” Cordelia asked.

“No. But don’t take it to heart. I meet a ton of people I never remember. Part of the game of owning a train I suppose.”

“Well, to be honest, we’ve never met,” Claude chimed in. “You contacted us through the mail. We’re the private security you hired. C & C Safety.”

“Private security? Oh! The bodyguards!” Odessa exclaimed. “My office hired y’all. To be more specific, my assistant Valentina. That child is a worrisome thing, but I guess she has her reasons. My partners aren’t exactly the best of people.”

“How so? Do you think they would harm you?” Cordelia asked.

“Well, let’s just say they don’t have to be hanging from trees to be nuts.”

“Wait,” Claude started. “Just to be clear. Your office hired us to protect you from your business partners. That right?”

“No,” Odessa replied. “My office hired you to protect what I have sown into my coat.”

“And that is?”

Before Odessa could respond to Cordelia’s expression, the door at end of the car slid open. Six men entered. Cordelia and Claude surveyed the hardened crew, their suits decorated with small bulges on hips and midsections. 

“Clocked the hardware?” Cordelia whispered as she turned to face the approaching men. 

“Yep, “ Claude replied. “How about you take Ms. Monroe further uptrain and I’ll hold off the Chi-Lites?”

“Really, Claude? It’s tight in here on this train. Too tight. That’s my show, baby.” Cordelia replied. “So you’re second fiddle today. Now, get going.”

Cordelia gave her partner a playful pat on the shoulder. It was a simple action, but it held a whole spectrum of meaning between them. Claude groaned but turned to usher Odessa to the exit, capitulating to the dynamics of their situation. He didn’t want to leave Cordelia. They had known one another for almost five years. It was second nature to defend each other, but she was right. The close quarters were better suited to her talents.

“So, who’s first?” Cordelia mocked as she was left alone with her adversaries. The six men chuckled and squeezed into a file line. A big bruiser in a pinstripe suit wielding brass knuckles led the lance. He stepped in front of Cordelia with his suffocating confidence, his 6’1” frame attempting to loom over her 5’9” stature. 

“Come on, Junior!” called out a grey-suited man in the back of their line. “Clip the bird so we can get this job over with already!”

Junior waved the comment off and grinned. Like the starter pistol at a race, the Golden Rush made a loud clammer as it hit a snowbank on the tracks. Light twinkled off of polished brass as the haymaker hooked through the air toward Cordelia’s skull. The woman was a viper as she slipped under the attack and delivered a deadly strike, her knuckles crushing Junior’s larynx on impact. The assailant made a gurgled choking noise as he tumbled against the window to the floor. Seconds later and he made no noise at all.

“Let me run it down to you suckahs,” Cordelia declared as she looked out the window, watching the snow that had decided to start falling. “My name is Cordelia Belle. Two-time Vine street Shotokan karate champion and the dangerous half of the private security known as C & C Safety. My partner would say it would be remiss of me to not give you cats the opportunity to walk away. So, here it is. Go back down the train, take a seat somewhere, get off when we hit Columbia, and forget you ever took this gig. You dig?”

A long rigid silence engulfed the car. Eyes twitched and brows started to sweat, but not a single man budged. A few gazed at one another, a final question silently spoken amongst the crew, but still, nobody moved.

“Alright. Everybody plays the fool.” Cordelia sighed as she removed her black coat. She was slender yet toned, her muscles visibly giving shape underneath a black turtleneck. Tight black bell bottoms revealed that her legs were just as fit as her arms if not more so. Instantly, the crew of thugs retrieved their weapons. Three of them decided to stay with close-quarter tactics as they pulled out knives and a chain. The other two pulled out guns, one a .32 special and the other a beretta. The car suddenly became claustrophobic. Snow flurries had begun to swirl outside on the Missouri terrain, dancing to their private songs. An odd calm settled into the hallway. Then it happened. Cordelia flashed forward like lightning, taking on the next man in line. His switchblade wisped through the air missing its target. He let off another three whips cutting nothing but air until Cordelia crashed into his ribs with two solid punches. She then crippled him with a thrusting kick to his shin, forcing the man to take a knee. He barely had time to gasp before Cordelia grabbed his head and smashed it against the train window. If she was lightning then the loud clap of the .32 was thunder. The bullet nearly grazed the woman as she continued her assault. Everything occurred in seconds. Cordelia dodged two more poor shots before reaching the gunman. A solid backhand to the wrist disarmed him and an uraken to the throat finished him off. The chain slung through the air as the next man charged. Metal links made the room doors rattle as the thug missed his target. Cordelia moved in for a killing blow, but before she could strike, the beretta barked. A booming pow echoed throughout the car as a bullet ripped into Cordelia’s abdomen, its force jerking her to the side.

“Who’s the fool now, muthaf—” the man prepared to boast but his words were cut short as the woman moved in on him. Cordelia’s hands caught, disarmed, and snapped the gunman’s hand all in one quick motion.

“Talk too much,” Cordelia grunted before gripping her arm around the man’s throat. A disgusting crunch echoed out as she snapped his neck with all her power, his lifeless body thumping against the argyle carpet. A fire burned in her eyes as she locked them onto the last man standing. His fingers fidgeted with his weapon while he surveyed the bodies and blood that littered the small hallway. Cordelia made a slight step forward and the man threw up his hands, quickly dropping the chain.

“Hey, baby! We’re cool! No problem. That offer still on the table?” the man asked with his hands held high. Cordelia gave him a slow nod.

“Right on,” he exclaimed. “It's only money, right?”

Cordelia watched as the man squeezed against the wall to get by and disappeared through the car exit. After a moment, the snow falling against the Midwest plateau reclaimed her attention. Then a chuckle left her lips.

“......suckah.”

End