The Headlong Fury

1
Philip Belmont checked his wristwatch. It was exactly 2:30 in the morning and his train was coming to a halt in the Gare de Perrache, the principal railroad station in the French city of Lyon. Philip was scared. He had just learned that unknown government agents and bounty hunters were seeking to murder him in hopes of claiming a large reward placed on his life by the German government.
Despite the early hour, many passengers with Lyon or Central France as their destination stood patiently, baggage in hand, waiting to depart. As the train came to a stop, a restive crowd on the station platform was set to board for the journey southward toward Marseilles and the Mediterranean coast. Both groups were oblivious to the death scenario precipitating in their midst.
In the few minutes between arrival and departure, Philip and several other passengers took advantage of the chance to leave the train to stretch their legs and otherwise refresh themselves for the remainder of the trip. Some rushed toward food sellers to grab a stale sandwich or a piece of fruit. A few entered station toilets. But most people scurried toward the newspaper kiosks, anxious to read the latest news about the political crisis precipitated two days ago in Bosnia when a young Slavic nationalist assassinated the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, as the royal couple visited Sarajevo.
Outside the train, Philip debated his next move. Were his pursuers still on the train? If so, how many? And how could he detect who they were? Were there German operatives or freelancer already waiting for him in the station? Where were they? He grew increasingly apprehensive. But when the engine whistle sounded, Philip joined the others and scrambled back. He was among the last passengers to re-board the Express. By Philip’s calculation there were more people getting on the train than had left it, and that worried him immensely.
Lyon was the largest and most important city in this agricultural region, so it was not unreasonable to expect many travelers would be boarding, even at this early hour. But any of the new travelers could be a government assassin or an independent killer intent on murdering him for the prize money. For that matter, his potential executioner could be among those continuing passengers who had boarded in Paris or any of the several cities at which the train had stopped before reaching Lyon.
As he re-entered the train he looked furtively at the other voyagers. His mind raced for answers. Which one wanted to kill him? How could he recognize his potential killer? How would he be slain? Stabbed? Shot? Perhaps strangled or poisoned? Maybe someone would just shove him off the speeding Express?
Forced by the circumstances, Philip conceived a plan of action. He would jump from the train. Once the Express left the station, but before it was moving too fast, he would throw his suitcase and then himself to the ground and hope for the best. The timing had to be perfect: that precise moment when the train was moving slowly enough that he would not be killed by the fall, but fast enough to make it fatal for a potential murderer to react and follow him off the speeding vehicle. He had no other plausible choice. He felt increasingly certain that he would not survive if he stayed on board.
After a few warning bursts from the steam engine the engineer shifted the locomotive into gear. The wheels spun spasmodically in search of traction. A few uncertain lurches followed. Finally, the wheels gripped the rails and slowly began moving forward.
Because the train was already beyond the station platform, gathering momentum and moving into pitch darkness, there was no way Philip could know what he was about to plunge into. Still, he was determined to jump. He opened the door at the end of his coach and stepped to the bottom stair. The wind blew against him as he waited for what he calculated was the optimal moment.
First he threw his handbag into the darkness. Then he hurled himself into the void.
When he hit the ground Philip bounced into the air, then fell heavily on his side and began rolling. The earth was hard and unforgiving, and more than once he winced in pain. He covered his head and face with his forearms, but he could still feel the bumps and scrapes punishing his body. Every part of him was affected as he tumbled over dirt, grass, rocks, and even pieces of lumber left along the track. Fortunately, his momentum carried him away from the iron rails and the massive train wheels which might have severed his limbs or, perhaps, his entire body.
As Philip rolled down a slight embankment and came to an abrupt stop against a large tree, he thought he heard gunshots pass near his head. In the darkness he saw no gunman or flash from a weapon, so he couldn't be certain. But unusual sounds whizzing past his ears as he tumbled suggested that someone on the train was shooting in his direction.
Philip lay face down in the dirt. He was in great pain. But he was on solid ground. His neck muscles, his ribs, and his left ankle were especially throbbing as he brushed soil from his hair and torn clothing. Fortunately, his nose was intact, but his hands and arms were lacerated. He was also spitting out a mixture of blood, dirt, and grass. Alive, but sorely wounded, he rose from the dirt and limped back to retrieve his battered suitcase.
Philip staggered back toward the distant station lights. He reckoned that no other passenger would be coming after him, but to be absolutely certain, however, he eased himself into a nearby dry ravine and stayed concealed there for a long time. During the next hour he saw no one emerge from the blackness of the early morning.
While he sat looking for human movement, Philip wondered how in the world he ended up physically battered and hiding in a filthy ditch in the middle of France. Only two weeks ago he had arrived in Paris as an idealistic and, as he now realized, naïve young university professor of history. All he wanted to do then was conduct research for a book and experience living in the French capital for a year. And now he was maneuvering to save his life.