Post by Allya on Jan 19, 2011 13:09:17 GMT -5
This is an excerpt from the same novel as 'Slow Eddie'.
SpaceSmoke curled from the cigar on the old man’s lips as he clasped Joe’s right shoulder. “You ready for tonight son?” His laugh filled the January air with white vapor clouds that hung in the air as they stood in the spotlight of the old train. “You’re just making a quick solo run from York to Martinsburg, just to get your feet wet.” Joe switched his weight from his left side to his right side, trying to keep warm. The old man took the cigar from his mouth and flicked the ash onto the tracks. “The thing you have to remember is she ain’t real. Don’t stop son. If you stop you’ll be in a heap of shit. She ain’t real.”
SpaceJoe wasn’t sure if the old man was fucking with him or just crazy and he didn’t much care. This was the run he had to do to prove himself, and it was an easy one. A quick three hour ride from York to Martinsburg and he was In-Like-Flynn. No problem. The old guy had told him to keep an eye out around Harpers Ferry. “Just as you break through the tunnel and cross the rivers, that’s when you’ll see ‘er,” he said, his eyes far away and wrinkled in thought. “She’ll light up the night and look like a hundred suns bearing down on you but she ain’t real.” He sighed, “aw shit what’s the use? You’ll either stop or you won’t. Just get on the fucking train and don’t break contact with the radio.” He patted Joe on the back and waved as Joe shut the door to the cab.
SpaceJoe ran through the routine he had watched a thousand times and prepped the old train for its three-hour tour. He started humming the theme to Gilligan’s Island as he worked. After he’d checked all the engine settings, fuel levels, and safety gear he moved the beast forward. It started slowly, chugging down the tracks, building momentum with each turn of the wheels. Joe grinned from ear to ear as the train left the station and headed into the night.
SpaceHe had been on several runs with the old man but always in the day. Cloyd was old school. His skin was tan and leathered, his hair peppered grey and slicked back, his hands rough and calloused, his lips cracked and puffy. He was hard on the fresh meat but he taught each one everything they needed to know about riding the rails. He cared, he respected the iron beasts and he expected those he worked with to respect them too.
SpaceJust yesterday as they had finished their run for the day, Cloyd as engineer and Joe observing for his last ride, Cloyd had offered to buy Joe a beer. They headed down to Sweet Caroline’s and tossed them back one after the other until the night had slipped by and the bartender was yelling for last call. That was when Cloyd had leaned in close and told Joe about Jenny. “Now, I don’t know the whole story,” he said, pausing to throw back another swig of Miller, “but here’s what you need to know. There’s a ghost that haunts the rails of Harpers Ferry. Some old timey chick that caught her skirt on fire or something. You ride through the tunnel and just as you cross the two rivers you see her coming at you down the tracks, a screaming ball of fire. She ain’t real. Don’t stop son. She ain’t real.”
SpaceJoe trained his eyes on the tracks ahead and watched the headlamp illuminate the tracks one after the other. He monitored the engine temperature, the speed, the fuel levels, and even listed to the sound of the train as it chugged along. He was trained for this, he was ready for this. The hair stood up on his arms and neck. I can’t believe this is my job! He knew that in the weeks and months ahead this would become second nature. But not tonight; tonight was his first solo run. Tonight he was a torch in the oily blackness that crept around the tracks. Tonight he was an explorer heading into uncharted territory. Tonight he was Lewis and Clark, John Smith, Magellan, and Columbus. The train was his Santa Maria and he had just set off for the New World.
SpaceThe beast moved steadily along the tracks, over bridges, under passes, and through sleeping towns. Up ahead Joe spied the tunnel that led to Harpers Ferry and his heart raced again. This is what the old man had talked about. This stretch of tracks was the clincher. He bit the side of his cheek and felt the salt of blood mix with his saliva.
SpaceThe radio crackled on as he approached the black, open mouth of the tunnel. Cloyd was on the other end. The old man had stayed by the radio to monitor his solo ride. “You’ve done great so far son. Now ease her into that tunnel and out the other side. She knows the way.” Joe smiled. “We’re going to lose contact in a minute so just remember what I told you. Don’t stop.” The radio grew silent as the headlamp pushed into the gaping black maw.
SpaceJoe peered out the front window and followed the line of the light along the tracks. It showed so little of the surrounding tunnel, anything could hide in such deep shadows. If the old man was going to scare him he should have chosen a story about the tunnel. Out on the other side, even under a clouded January sky, there was too much light to shake the bones of a grown man, an Engineer.
SpaceThe train punched through the other side and back into the frigid, gray night. Joe sounded the train whistle to warn anyone who may be hanging around the tracks. Might as well warn the ghost I’m coming. With just an hour left he was confident and excited to finish the tour. He popped open a coke and focused on the tracks ahead.
SpaceThat’s when he saw her. At first she was just a speck of light, an ember glowing in the horizon. But as the train pushed him forward the ember bloomed to a spark, and that spark became a flicker. Joe’s hand instinctively went to the brake. Don’t stop. Soon it was a ball of flame running towards the track, a fire twisting in on itself, growing ever larger. His hand gripped the brake tightly, his knuckles white in panic. Don’t stop. She ain’t real. Joe eased his hand off the brake and gripped the radio receiver instead. Keeping his eyes on the flaming mass his heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Don’t stop, you can’t hurt her. The ball grew bigger until it seemed to fill the whole space in front of the train. A writhing mass of flame that threatened to swallow him in a maw of fire and pain; it was alive and headed straight for him.
SpaceHis body screamed STOP but is mind knew better. He clicked on the radio and heard the familiar crackle. “Uh, Cloyd?” There was no answer on the other end, just silence. The light from the headlamp now reached the edge of the fireball that twisted on the tracks ahead. “Cloyd?” The beast was dragging him forward. Don’t Stop. Joe swallowed hard and tried the radio again. “Cloyd man, you there?”
SpaceA raspy laugh came over the radio. “Ya see ‘er now don’t ya? She headed straight for ya?” Joe could hear the amusement in Cloyd’s voice. “Now listen son, you just remember what I said and you’ll do fine. She ain’t real. She’s there every time you drive through here. If you stop this train it’ll be hell to get ‘er goin’ again. So don’t stop.” Joe stared from the radio to the tracks and back again. This is crazy. This shit doesn’t happen. It’s fucking 2010 and we’re talking about ghosts?
SpaceHe was closer now. He could see her arms flailing and her mouth open in a scream. Her eyes burned through him, two bright red cherries that seemed as big as the windows on the train car. The mass of fire filled his view, blocking out the moon, the star, the rivers, the tracks. It was just him, the beast, and the fire. Don’t stop. He could see the tiny details. Flesh melted from her face. The ruffles of her dress danced around her in a ring of fire, her breasts were like two burning orbs pulling her chest apart. Don’t stop. She reached her hands out to him. She called to him, pleaded with him to make it stop.
SpaceJoe’s face turned to stone as the iron beast charged onward. She ain’t real. Writhing, in pain she watched him and saw he would not stop. She opened her mouth in a fiery scream, cursing him as the train plunged through the twisting pyre and out the other side. He listened for the thwump that would indicate he had hit something, or someone. None came. She ain’t real. He looked at the water below the tracks and saw no reflection of the fire, nothing out of place. Only the headlamp moved along the inky black water. She ain’t real.
SpaceJoe picked up the radio receiver again. “Cloyd, I just passed through Harpers Ferry and I’m on schedule. I’ll be in Martinsburg in half an hour.” God, I hope that sounded calm. He set the radio down and took another swig of his coke, his hand shaking and palms sweaty. I need some Jack Daniels after this shit. Coke would have to do. He sat back, exhaled deeply and watched as the train kept rolling through the night. His ride would soon be over and he’d passed the test. He was in.
Don’t Stop Son
SpaceSmoke curled from the cigar on the old man’s lips as he clasped Joe’s right shoulder. “You ready for tonight son?” His laugh filled the January air with white vapor clouds that hung in the air as they stood in the spotlight of the old train. “You’re just making a quick solo run from York to Martinsburg, just to get your feet wet.” Joe switched his weight from his left side to his right side, trying to keep warm. The old man took the cigar from his mouth and flicked the ash onto the tracks. “The thing you have to remember is she ain’t real. Don’t stop son. If you stop you’ll be in a heap of shit. She ain’t real.”
SpaceJoe wasn’t sure if the old man was fucking with him or just crazy and he didn’t much care. This was the run he had to do to prove himself, and it was an easy one. A quick three hour ride from York to Martinsburg and he was In-Like-Flynn. No problem. The old guy had told him to keep an eye out around Harpers Ferry. “Just as you break through the tunnel and cross the rivers, that’s when you’ll see ‘er,” he said, his eyes far away and wrinkled in thought. “She’ll light up the night and look like a hundred suns bearing down on you but she ain’t real.” He sighed, “aw shit what’s the use? You’ll either stop or you won’t. Just get on the fucking train and don’t break contact with the radio.” He patted Joe on the back and waved as Joe shut the door to the cab.
SpaceJoe ran through the routine he had watched a thousand times and prepped the old train for its three-hour tour. He started humming the theme to Gilligan’s Island as he worked. After he’d checked all the engine settings, fuel levels, and safety gear he moved the beast forward. It started slowly, chugging down the tracks, building momentum with each turn of the wheels. Joe grinned from ear to ear as the train left the station and headed into the night.
SpaceHe had been on several runs with the old man but always in the day. Cloyd was old school. His skin was tan and leathered, his hair peppered grey and slicked back, his hands rough and calloused, his lips cracked and puffy. He was hard on the fresh meat but he taught each one everything they needed to know about riding the rails. He cared, he respected the iron beasts and he expected those he worked with to respect them too.
SpaceJust yesterday as they had finished their run for the day, Cloyd as engineer and Joe observing for his last ride, Cloyd had offered to buy Joe a beer. They headed down to Sweet Caroline’s and tossed them back one after the other until the night had slipped by and the bartender was yelling for last call. That was when Cloyd had leaned in close and told Joe about Jenny. “Now, I don’t know the whole story,” he said, pausing to throw back another swig of Miller, “but here’s what you need to know. There’s a ghost that haunts the rails of Harpers Ferry. Some old timey chick that caught her skirt on fire or something. You ride through the tunnel and just as you cross the two rivers you see her coming at you down the tracks, a screaming ball of fire. She ain’t real. Don’t stop son. She ain’t real.”
SpaceJoe trained his eyes on the tracks ahead and watched the headlamp illuminate the tracks one after the other. He monitored the engine temperature, the speed, the fuel levels, and even listed to the sound of the train as it chugged along. He was trained for this, he was ready for this. The hair stood up on his arms and neck. I can’t believe this is my job! He knew that in the weeks and months ahead this would become second nature. But not tonight; tonight was his first solo run. Tonight he was a torch in the oily blackness that crept around the tracks. Tonight he was an explorer heading into uncharted territory. Tonight he was Lewis and Clark, John Smith, Magellan, and Columbus. The train was his Santa Maria and he had just set off for the New World.
SpaceThe beast moved steadily along the tracks, over bridges, under passes, and through sleeping towns. Up ahead Joe spied the tunnel that led to Harpers Ferry and his heart raced again. This is what the old man had talked about. This stretch of tracks was the clincher. He bit the side of his cheek and felt the salt of blood mix with his saliva.
SpaceThe radio crackled on as he approached the black, open mouth of the tunnel. Cloyd was on the other end. The old man had stayed by the radio to monitor his solo ride. “You’ve done great so far son. Now ease her into that tunnel and out the other side. She knows the way.” Joe smiled. “We’re going to lose contact in a minute so just remember what I told you. Don’t stop.” The radio grew silent as the headlamp pushed into the gaping black maw.
SpaceJoe peered out the front window and followed the line of the light along the tracks. It showed so little of the surrounding tunnel, anything could hide in such deep shadows. If the old man was going to scare him he should have chosen a story about the tunnel. Out on the other side, even under a clouded January sky, there was too much light to shake the bones of a grown man, an Engineer.
SpaceThe train punched through the other side and back into the frigid, gray night. Joe sounded the train whistle to warn anyone who may be hanging around the tracks. Might as well warn the ghost I’m coming. With just an hour left he was confident and excited to finish the tour. He popped open a coke and focused on the tracks ahead.
SpaceThat’s when he saw her. At first she was just a speck of light, an ember glowing in the horizon. But as the train pushed him forward the ember bloomed to a spark, and that spark became a flicker. Joe’s hand instinctively went to the brake. Don’t stop. Soon it was a ball of flame running towards the track, a fire twisting in on itself, growing ever larger. His hand gripped the brake tightly, his knuckles white in panic. Don’t stop. She ain’t real. Joe eased his hand off the brake and gripped the radio receiver instead. Keeping his eyes on the flaming mass his heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Don’t stop, you can’t hurt her. The ball grew bigger until it seemed to fill the whole space in front of the train. A writhing mass of flame that threatened to swallow him in a maw of fire and pain; it was alive and headed straight for him.
SpaceHis body screamed STOP but is mind knew better. He clicked on the radio and heard the familiar crackle. “Uh, Cloyd?” There was no answer on the other end, just silence. The light from the headlamp now reached the edge of the fireball that twisted on the tracks ahead. “Cloyd?” The beast was dragging him forward. Don’t Stop. Joe swallowed hard and tried the radio again. “Cloyd man, you there?”
SpaceA raspy laugh came over the radio. “Ya see ‘er now don’t ya? She headed straight for ya?” Joe could hear the amusement in Cloyd’s voice. “Now listen son, you just remember what I said and you’ll do fine. She ain’t real. She’s there every time you drive through here. If you stop this train it’ll be hell to get ‘er goin’ again. So don’t stop.” Joe stared from the radio to the tracks and back again. This is crazy. This shit doesn’t happen. It’s fucking 2010 and we’re talking about ghosts?
SpaceHe was closer now. He could see her arms flailing and her mouth open in a scream. Her eyes burned through him, two bright red cherries that seemed as big as the windows on the train car. The mass of fire filled his view, blocking out the moon, the star, the rivers, the tracks. It was just him, the beast, and the fire. Don’t stop. He could see the tiny details. Flesh melted from her face. The ruffles of her dress danced around her in a ring of fire, her breasts were like two burning orbs pulling her chest apart. Don’t stop. She reached her hands out to him. She called to him, pleaded with him to make it stop.
SpaceJoe’s face turned to stone as the iron beast charged onward. She ain’t real. Writhing, in pain she watched him and saw he would not stop. She opened her mouth in a fiery scream, cursing him as the train plunged through the twisting pyre and out the other side. He listened for the thwump that would indicate he had hit something, or someone. None came. She ain’t real. He looked at the water below the tracks and saw no reflection of the fire, nothing out of place. Only the headlamp moved along the inky black water. She ain’t real.
SpaceJoe picked up the radio receiver again. “Cloyd, I just passed through Harpers Ferry and I’m on schedule. I’ll be in Martinsburg in half an hour.” God, I hope that sounded calm. He set the radio down and took another swig of his coke, his hand shaking and palms sweaty. I need some Jack Daniels after this shit. Coke would have to do. He sat back, exhaled deeply and watched as the train kept rolling through the night. His ride would soon be over and he’d passed the test. He was in.
