"The Engineer" by Twisted Zero
*************************************************************************** The Engineer (#3)
I looked up and saw a pair of headlights coming our way. The car wasn't noisy, but the engine did rumble a bit. AHH! I mean, uh, the motor. Yeah, cars have motors. Evil, dead trains have engines.
The car turned off its brights and pulled off to it's side of the road. I couldn't tell what it was, but I did notice it was fairly long, and only had two doors. The driver side door opened up and a husky guy about six feet tall stepped out.
"Hey, are you guys O.K.?" he asked.
"No," Tin said without thinking.
"Yeah...I didn't think so," said the guy. "Get in the car, I'll take you guys home, or wherever you need to be."
"You'll have to help us with Floyd," said Streak, rising to his feet. "We've all just run about a half-mile, and we're scared out of our minds. Floyd, he...he fainted a minute ago."
"I don't know how much help I'll be," he said, moving his seat up. "But I'll try."
Tin stood up, holding Floyd by the shoulders, Bluestreak lifted him undre the calves and the Stranger held up his lower back with both arms. Cautiously, they made it to the car, Streak backing in and Tin following. They sat down with Floyd laid out across them. I got in the other side and the driver pulled a U-turn and headed back to town.
"Name's Charlie," he said.
"I'm Javian," I said.
"Neat name," he said, a small smile on his face. Then it disappeared. "What were you guys runnin' from?" he asked.
"Dude, last time somebody asked that question Floyd there nearly got himself killed." I told him.
"How's that?!" he asked. I sighed.
"Some kinda demonic train and its evil, ghostly Engineer tried to pull him onto the tracks to run him over. He got away, but his car's been totally destroyed."
"Whoa," said Charlie, in a whisper. He was speeding back into town. I noticed he only had one hand on the wheel, and he was gripping a suicide knob.
"What's with the knob?" I asked, pointing to it. He looked down at it for a second.
"Oh," he said, looking back to the road. He then lifted up his other hand, which was pulled back with the palm toward the wrist and the fingers all deformed. "The knob is for the nub! Sir Ebral Paulsy, at your service," he said, making light of his situation.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Don't start, kid. I hate that." he said, keeping his eyes ahead of him. "So what street am I lookin' for?" he asked, as the first lines of houses appeared.
"Hayworth," said Bluestreak. "Big burgundy house near the middle."
"Oh, burgundy. At least it's a discernible color," said Charlie, glancing at me with a slight smile. I couldn't help but return it, though weak I was. In about five minutes, he was on the street and guided to Bluestreak's house, where we got Floyd carried up to Streak's bed.
Charlie left, after giving us his number in case, as he put it, we needed saving again while he was in town. He'd told us he, too, was home from college for the week, but he didn't attend the same school as Thursday's victims, though he did know them from elementary. He seemed to believe every word of our story, and told us that we'd better call the police about the car so that nobody would try to raise a fuss about anything being improperly reported. He had to leave, but after he left, that's exactly what we did.
The cops showed up at Streak's house in under half an hour. We woke Floyd and in minutes we were leading two squad cars to the site. Once there, one of them radioed for a wrecker, and the other came over to us with a note pad. This was going to be interesting.
"Which one of you boys called this in?" he asked.
"I did," said Bluestreak.
"What's your name, son?" asked the officer.
"Jason Tyren," answered Streak.
"S'quite a mess you've got here. Mind tellin' me what happened?" asked the cop.
"We really don't know," said Bluestreak. "We'd just come to, like, a third Railroad crossing in half an hour, and we stopped to check the directions to this party when a train started comin' by. All of a sudden this guy shows up and breaks Floyd's window tries to--I dunno--Kill him. We got Floyd out through the passenger side, then we ran off. We stopped a few seconds after we bolted, 'cause we heard this huge smash, and then the train was gone and...well...so was the car."
The cop looked at him with a not so satisfied expression. He shifted his eyes from Bluetreak to Tin, to me and to Floyd. He was a big, bald, black guy, so he was kind of intimidating.
"Which one of you owned the car?" he asked.
"That would be me," Floyd said weakly.
"Is that what happened?" asked the cop.
"Y-yeah," Floyd stammered.
"Exactly what happened?" the cop pressured. Floyd looked about primed for a nervous breakdown.
"Y-yes sir," he said. The cop still looked like he didn't buy it, but he finished scribbling stuff on his little notepad, then flipped the page and scribbled something else, tore it off and handed it to Floyd.
"Here," he said. "My name is Ron Heggert--/Officer/ Ron Heggert--and this is my personal phone number. If you see this guy anywhere, you call me immediately. Then you call the station. Got it?"
Floyd had given up trying to eloquate anything, and just nodded really fast.
"Good. Now you all go home and get some sleep. If we need anything, we'll get you in the morning."
We did just that. We got into Tin's car and went straight for Streak's house yet again. Once there, we all passed out in the living room.
I snapped into a sitting position faster than a mousetrap. I looked around the room quickly; Tin in the recliner, Floyd on the couch, face down, Bluestreak on the floor about three feet away from me. I was breathing heavy, sweating. It was not a restful sleep, I'll tell you that. The image of the Engineer's dead, rotten face was burned into my brain, probably forever.
I calmed down and saw through the window that the sky was grey, a golden orange line appearing above the houses and sparse trees. Morning already. Great.
I knew I couldn't get back to sleep, and that I wouldn't want to if I could. I went to Streak's bathroom and washed my face, trying to get a grip on the events of last night. I hadn't shut the door, left it open just a crack. I saw it open a bit in the mirror, Tin standing in the doorway.
"You O.K.?" he asked, a little tired.
"I guess," I said.
"You think Floyd's parents will buy what Bluestreak said about the car?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"I don't know. But I hope so." I told him, straightening up and turning around. "I've never met his folks."
"Come on, I'll make us some tea." he said, leading me out of the bathroom. We walked down the hall into the kitchen and he lifted the kettle. Seeing as it had anough water in it, he put it back down and turned the burner on.
"You sure this is O.K.?" I asked, as he grabbed a couple coffee cups from a cupboard.
"Yeah," he said dismissively. "I've been here before; his parents are all 'do what you will, but clean up or die' kinda people. As long as they don't have any extra mess to deal with, they're cool. Sugar?"
"Oh, definitly, like three teaspoons," I said.
"O.K.," he chuckled, preparing our morning brews.
"What are we gonna do?" I asked in a serious voice that was accidentally more scared than I wanted it to be. He stopped watching theb kettle and turned to me.
"What do you mean, 'do'?" he asked suspiciously.
"I mean 'do', Tin. Exactly what I said. What are we gonna do about the..." I sighed. "The train thing."
"Nothing," he said, turning back to stare at the kettle.
"Excuse me?" I said, raising my brow. "We are the only four people who know about that thing, and we're not going to do anything?"
"Like what?!" he snapped, turning to me, an angry look on his face. "Go tell everybody, Javian. Go tell the whole fucking town that a ghost train is going to kill them all?!" Judging by his face and the sharp tones he was using, it was very impressive that he kept his voice at a hoarse whisper like that. For a split second, it reminded me of the way Pete was scolding me on the bus. "Or do you think we should go and kill the Engineer? Yeah, there's a good plan--except--oh--he's already dead!!" His eyes started to water, and he backed off, rubbing at them. He's always hated that about himself; anytime something really freaks him out, his eyes instinctively water, giving the effect that he was crying. "Alright, calm down," I said, putting my hands up in defense as the whistle on the kettle started to blow. For an instant, we both kinda jumped a little, but ignored it on both parts. He took the kettle from the burner, shut the burner off, and poured the water into our cups.
"I'm fine," he said, setting the kettle down on a cold burner. "Don't worry about me."
We took our drinks into the living room and watched Bluestreak and Floyd as they lay sleeping. Floyd had rolled onto his back, and the few little cuts around his face and neck were plainly visible now, especially thanks to the dim morning light casting in from the windows.
"You know, what you're suggesting is entirely stupid," said Tin, as we examined Floyd's condition from the doorway.
"I know," I said, taking a sip of my tea.
"And you know it will take a lot more than the panic-stricken four of us," he said, taking a sip of his own.
"I know," I said. There was a bit of a pause.
"Just to be sure, you do know that what you're suggesting is entirely fucking stupid?" he asked.
"Mm-hmm," I smiled, as I took another sip. Floyd's eyes opened about half a milimeter, yet somehow he still managed to glare at us.
"What the fuck are you doing up?" he mumbled.
"They're not," mumble Bluestreak, motionless on the floor. "They're just a very bad dream. Go back to sleep."
"If we're a dream, you already are asleep," I said, smiling. Then Floyd made some kind of whiney, unconcious noise, rolled to his side and drifted off again.
"Aww..."said Tin with a grin. "Look at the poor little sleeping beauties." I laughed, and we went into the kitchen to let them sleep in peace. We just sat down at the table opposite each other when Floyd came into veiw. He'd jumped up from the couch, run, and then slid into the hallway and ran into the kitchen doorway, startling the hell out of both Tin and I, and stopping himself only by catching the doorframe with his hands.
"Guys!" he yelled, slightly winded.
"What?!" asked Tin, shocked and irritated.
"My car!" he yelled, looking quickly at both Tin and me. "My DAD'S car!"
Tin and I looked at each other.
"Let's go," said Tin, and all three of us simultaneously ran from our positions, me almost knocking over my cup, and headed out the door. As Tin and Floyd got to Tin's car, I stopped and ran back into the house and to the doorway to the living room, looking in at Bluestreak. He was sitting up looking very confused and tired.
"Goin' somewhere?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, huffing. "Floyd's house." No reaction. "To tell his dad about the car." His eyes almost fell out of his head. He didn't say anything but scrambled up and we got out of the house and into the back of Tin's car.
"Which way?" Tin asked, as he sped down the street.
"Three lefts and a right," said Bluestreak, still sleepily working on his seatbelt.
"That would put us right back where we were!" Stated Tin, as he passed through an intersection.
"He's wrong anyway," said Floyd. "It's one left and two rights."
"Would you just fucking tell me what street it's on?!" shouted Tin, releasing the wheel and shaking his hands, palm up, like he was being electrocuted. I just laughed at him.
"Windsor," said Floyd, a slight smile finding its way to his face.
"Gotcha," said Tin, and he headed off. "However," he said, speeding up a slight slope on his way straight into downtown, "Going straight through town will get us there faster."
As we came to the top of the hill, we saw a line of about twenty-some cars waiting for a train to pass. It was just coming in, and blowing its whistle; a large, sluggish, deisel cargo train. There was about ten feet between us and the next car in line when Tin stopped at the peak of the small hill.
"Yeah, you're probably right, this way's much faster." said Floyd, rolling his eyes. Just then, the lights and bells from the train signals started doing double-time.
"Oh, fuck." whispered Tin. We all sat straight up and watched. A second whistle blew, and then bam: The entire front of the deisel engine appeared to implode on itself, causing a huge explosion. he engine then rolled to the side and fell off the tracks. Every car it carried was either broken in half, sending debris through the air, or pulled off the rails by its predecessor. Fire and shrapnel were flying every where from the explosion of the engine, and pieces were snapping and flying off of the cars, though most of them were beyond the reach of the road.
"How 'bout we go the way Floyd said?" I offered.
"Yeah," Tin quickly agreed, and in a second he'd pulled a U-turn and gone back, turning where Floyd had suggested. We got to his house in about ten minutes, parking by the curb. Floyd and Bluestreak went inside, and didn't come out for about fifteen minutes. Actually, only Bluestreak came out. He climbed in the back, and Tin and I turned to face him.
"Needless to say, they're both pretty upset," he said. "But they're mostly shaken up and glad that he's O.K., partly because of the car and partly because the entire town saw what just happened with that deisel engine on the news just now."
"This is getting out of hand," I said.
"What are you talking about, Jay?" asked Tin. "This was never IN hand."
"Personally, I'd say it's getting dangerous and intimidating, but that's just me." said Streak. There was a bit of a lull in the conversation. "So what now?" he asked.
"We need to figure something out," I said.
"Um, for starters, are we gonna try to tell anybody else about this?" asked Bluestreak, his eyes darting between Tin and I.
"They wouldn't believe us," said Tin.
"That may very well be," I started, "But we should at least tell Becky, Derrek and Sheila, if for no other reason than to try to keep them safe and, God willing, off the damn tracks."
"Good plan," said Bluestreak, "But we'd have to cross about three sets of tracks to get to any of their respective homes!"
This was true. Wait...no it wasn't.
"Not Sheila's house," I said.
"Oh, well, maybe not." said Streak. "But you know me, I hardly consider her a person, let alone do I know where she lives."
"Let's go, see if Derrek's with her." I said.
"I'm on it," said Tin, starting the car. As he pulled out, he added, "I really don't see why you two don't get along, she's a very nice girl."
"Eh, she's clingy and jumps to conclusions." said Bluestreak. "And her head's kinda...shaped like... califlower.." he moved his hands in slight patterns around his head to give emphasis to what he was trying to describe.
"What?" I asked, totally caught off gaurd with that comment.
"Now he's just making things up." said Tin.
We got to Sheila's house in record time. Thankfully, Derrek's car was parked in front. We parked on the opposite side and walked up to the house. Stepping up onto the porch, we saw that the door was open a bit, only the screen door latched. We heard someone talking quietly, then footsteps. I got to the door, Tin and Bluestreak behind me. Derrek showed up at the door, Sheila behind him, an arm draped over her boyfriend's shoulders. Neither looked happy, but Derrek's face was distressed, a steady stream of tears from each eye. With out a word, he pushed the screen open and wrapped his arms around me, nearly squeezing me to death. He shuddered the words "I'm sorry," and then began to openly cry on my shoulder. I hugged him back, but looked over him at Sheila. "We just tried to call you, but didn't get an answer." she said.
Derrek's been my best friend since second grade, and I've never seen him this upset over anything. Needless to say, I wa very worried.
"What?" I asked gently. "What's wrong, man?"
"I'm so sorry," he said again, into my shoulder.
"Derrek, man," I said as gently as possible, "what's wrong?"
He backed off and looked at me, consufion and sorrow blending together on his reddened and soaked face.
"You don't know?" he asked, almost surprised. I shook my head. He suddenly looked very, very weak. "Come in, man."
We followed him into the living room. Sheila's mother was there, also very upset, and the t.v. was on. Sheila sat by her motherl, and Tin beside Sheila. Derrek sat at the end of the couch facing theirs, me in the middle and Streak at the other end.
"Dude, I really hate to be the one to tell you this..." he started, putting a hand on my shoulder. There was huge train wreck just downtown today."
"Yeah, we...we heard," I said, quickly glancing at Tin.
"Like, a whole minute afterward, every channel on the tube was covering it. Nobody knows what happened. Nobody knows anything, except who got hurt."
This was the point when my ears really perked up, and my stomache started to tighten up.
"Dude...." he started, but choked up really bad. He calmed himself enough to look me in the eye again. "Your mom was four cars back..." His face distorted and his eyes started to drain themselves. "When the train exploded...." he choked, "part of it went right...right through her windsheild."
At first, I think my brain refused to understand what he was saying. However, after he leaned into me again, my sight did that effect where what's right in front of you gets closer but the background gets farther away. I got really dizzy, and I almost blacked out. I came to the sudden realization that Derrek was trying to tell me something that would effect my life forever. When the words came to me, they echoed in my head, a thousand times at least: My Mother Is Dead.
At that point, I did black out.
Sorry, nothin' too scarey in this part. Well, no Engineer, anyway, whether you think it's scarey or not. Thanks to everybody who's readin', especially Garion's ego-boosting comments. ;) Sleep tight, bud.
--Twisted Zero (TwistedZero@thevortex.com)