Railroad to Retirement

I hear it before I see it; the grinding of the train's wheels against the tracks is so deafening it makes the ground tremble beneath my feet, even from outside the station where I wait. Then I see it, the metal grate at the front glinting with the midmorning sunlight, and I can barely contain my excitement.
This is it, I think to myself as the locomotive draws closer. This is my one hundredth robbery.
You see, I am not here to simply watch this train go by; I am standing at this crossroad waiting to jump onto the last car of the train as it passes, which is exactly what I do. With a considerable amount of effort, I finally manage to pull myself over the railing and slip through the door into the final car. My mission has begun. I waste no time in the caboose, and immediately pass into the next car, keeping my eyes peeled for something worth taking. That is how I work after all; robbing trains is something of a hobby, so I can take my time to choose something I like. I currently have some small, insignificant, and therefore unmissed, object from ninety-nine other trains I have broken into. Under normal circumstances, I would have already chosen something and exited the same way I entered, but this is no normal circumstance; this is my one hundredth, and final, robbery, and it must be my most daring heist yet. I plan to leave this business with a bang; it will take time to find something that will undoubtedly cause an uproar.
Four cars pass, I have seen no other people, and suddenly I wonder if I should have chosen a different train. It is on the fifth car that I realize that I definitely made a good decision in choosing this train, for sitting in the fifth car from the back, huddled next to a window, cradling a steaming cup of tea, and dressed in full police garb, is none other than Zoey Shepherd; I cannot help but grin because I have found the perfect person to steal from. Zoey doesn't seem to have noticed me coming in because she does not look up from her tea. I take the opportunity to sit in the seat opposite her.
"Long time, no see, Shepherd," I greet her, crossing my legs and folding my hands to look as professional as possible. I can tell she recognizes my voice before she even looks up at me, but when she does, her face contorts into a vicious grin.
"Mark this down as the best day of my life yet," she drawls as she lowers the teacup. "They told me you would be on this train, but I was beginning to doubt it. Now here you are. You just made my job a whole lot easier."
"Here I am," I affirm. "The real mystery is why exactly you are here on this particular train, my dear."
Zoey rolls her eyes. "You don't have the right to call me that after what you did to me. I may be a cop now, but it took a lot of time to convince the board that I really hadn't broken into that house." She sits up straighter, obviously angered by the mere memory of the summer I broke into the mayor's house. No doubt she has a right to be; I framed her, but surely it is time to move past that. "And as for my being here," she continues. "I'm following you. Don't look so surprised. Your operation is hardly covert. I mean, you just jumped onto the back of a moving train, Christine."
"So you and your bitterness are here to arrest me for getting on a train?"
"Don't play dumb. We know you've been stealing stuff. We've known ever since you took that camera from the woman on the train in Winchester. I'll arrest you for all that as well."
"I believe that was number sixty-eight," I muse.
"I don't care how many trains you've robbed, Allen," she hisses, leaning close to me. "My point is, I'm busting you for this one, and you're going to jail on numerous counts of robbery and trespassing." She stands up, detaches the handcuffs clipped to her belt and reaches to grab my arm and hold me still. I have been anticipating a maneuver like this, so I counter it with a smooth move of my own, slipping under the table and jumping over the back of the chair she had until recently been occupying. I turn to face her and sigh in mock sadness, resting my hands on my hips.
"Dear Zoey, you mustn't rush me so. I still haven't taken anything from this train yet. Surely you wouldn't want to ruin my streak. This is the one hundredth after all." I look hastily around the car, trying to spot something worth keeping in case Zoey is successful in cutting my operation short. Unfortunately this appears to be a simple dining car with no outstanding china or cutlery and no other passengers to mug. The thought occurs that there is a possibility Zoey had this train emptied to be used for the sole purpose of capturing me. Do subordinate police officers have the power to do things like that? I don't have the time to fully ponder the answer because a moment later, Zoey is hurtling toward me with a psychotic smile. I leap back and turn, heading back in the direction I had come from toward the end of the train at full speed.
Police academy served Zoey well; she races after me and soon catches up enough to be able to reach out and grab the back of my shirt. I cannot be caught, especially not today, on this final heist of my short lived career as a train robber. I speed up until I reach the last car and must make a quick decision. Zoey is only a few feet behind me, and the train is moving very fast, blurring the scenery through the windows into smudged blobs of color. To my relief, I see one very reassuring color, and without a second thought, I fling the door open and climb the ladder to the roof of the train.
"You're so cliche!" Zoey shouts over the roar of the wind around the train as she scrambles to follow me onto the roof. By the time she makes it up, I have made some slow, tedious progress toward the front of the train. My head start does not deter her, however; she approaches quickly, taking long, swaying steps, matching the rhythm of the train. Perhaps this isn't the first train roof chase she's had part in. In no time at all she has caught up to me completely, and she grabs my arm roughly, preparing to snap the cuffs on my wrists. In an attempt to escape without much effort on my part, I collapse, forcing her to lower me slowly to the train roof. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the color I was counting on, and I put my impromptu plan into action. One leg hooks around Zoey's knee, pulling her down, while I roll out from under her and catch her before she face plants on the roof. Next, I only pause a moment before the train slows slightly to cross a bridge and I launch myself off the train and into the blue of a cattail rimmed lake.
The train has passed completely by the time I resurface, and I find myself laughing. Zoey will never find me again after this, I promise myself, and I know it's true. My crimes are hardly severe enough to be pursued throughout life by a vengeful childhood friend-turned-police officer. Still chuckling to myself, I begin to swim to the edge of the lake. Unlike Zoey, my day has not been entirely unproductive. I am still laughing as I wade into shore and pocket the souvenir from this most recent endeavor: the badge of a certain vengeful childhood friend.
Happy retirement, Christine.