Story - thriller, romance, aliens, train crash

The bomb exploded as she kissed him.  It was unforgettable. Her lips. The explosion.  The train derailing.The money fluttering down from the overhead bin like confetti. American hundred dollar bills.  The crashing tilting sideways motion. His body thrust hard against her. The feel of her ample breasts against his chest. The screams. The gunshots.

“My, Mr. Jones,  that was some kiss”,  she said, struggling to get out from under him. He moved aside too aware of the luxury of her beneath the gossamer white dress.  Standing and brushing himself off he couldn’t help but notice her pulling first a pistol then a silencer from the tops of her white stockings.  A glimpse of smooth white thigh. More shots from the corridor.  

“I think you’ll need more than that out there,” she said, eyeing the front of his trousers.  

“Of course,” he said, reaching under the mattress,  pulling out a large matt   black Defender.  All business now. His earlier mischievousness rapidly receding.  

The compartment  tilted sideways.  He lean forward and step up to exit. Paper money still fluttering down from the overhead. 

 “Shall we?” He said,  opening the compartment door, peering down the corridor.

A large multi eyed centipede scurried galumphing towards him.  The full stopping power of the 12 gauge buckshot changed it’s multiple minds for ever.  

“Let’s go this other way then,” he said.  

“I  think so. The acid in the beast’s juice would do havoc to my dress.”  She smiled flinging her raw hide tasseled purse over her shoulder.

On a slant as if running the length of a sailboat they hurried to the end of the car.  Indians were already riding across the sky to attack the infestation at the rear.  The new winged palomino horses perfectly suited to this task.  Flashes of laser fire streaked bright despite the mid day sun.    They  escaped off the train, jumping down to the gravel and climbing through the shrub into the  forest of  Canadian pine.  The giant pink Wasps  that invariably accompanied the multiheaded centipedes were engaged by the Indians. 

‘There,” she said, pointing to the glimmering orb high off the rear of where the caboose had been.  An Interdimensional shimmer pulsated hardly visible in the light.  

‘Right,” he said.  “But this won’t reach it.”

“This will,” she said, taking the gloss from her purse.  She pointed the lipstick directly at the orb. Pop. That tiniest sound  was immediately followed by a ear splitting blast as the machine at the edge of the rip in space exploded collapsing the filament.  Sparkles fluttered down. 

“Good shot,” 

“Thank you.” 

“What else have you got in that purse?” He said sitting to wait for the cavalry to finish up and the engineers to restore sanity.  

“A piece of white chocolate,” she said, sitting very close next to him.  It really was a beautiful day.