Alexander's Gift

The Maverick- Finale

The ringing nipped at the edges of Monty's consciousness, just enough to be present, but not exactly registering. Two minutes later, it finally penetrated as being from the phone, and Monty's sleep-glazed eyes fluttered open. The cold handle of the phone sent a chill down his spine even before he heard the words: "There's been an accident. The Raintree Line, 20 kilometers from the station. Get here as soon as you can."

Monty dropped the phone and was racing through the house to pull on his clothes as his mind went blank. He went through all the motions: grabbed the keys, sat in the car, inserted the keys into the ignition, turned them, drove. Fifth Street, Sixth Street . . . the signs flashed by, flag after flag calling out to him to think . . . to think about what he just heard and whose fault it was. What it really meant.

Thick, black smoke furled into view above the trees before he could even see the train. Then, all of a sudden, he was in the clearing and overwhelmed: sirens shrieked in undulating waves of sound, echoing for longer than they should have as if reluctant to leave their doleful surroundings; billowing clouds of flames seemed to lick at charred skeletons of train cars- white at the center, then orange and then black- confused, soot-stained railroad workers milled about dreamily in the midst of suited bureaucrats called down to the scene to mitigate bad press, and every few feet along the gravel would be a passenger pulled from the train, limply unconscious or dead.

Monty found himself doubled over, retching in a bush. He forced himself to regain his composure and stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Straightening his tie with pale-faced resolve, Monty found one of the bureacrats and asked what happened.

"It's hard to tell at this point, but it seems to be a combination of worn flanges and missing portions of rail. It seems like bad oversight to me." Monty nodded dazedly and walked away from the scene. He stopped his car at the nearest payphone and called up the office.

"They said it was a problem with the flanges and rails . . . I don't understand how this could have happened."

"Sir, the company hasn't had those kinds of funds for years. But . . . that isn't your biggest problem, sir." The voice was tentative, as if afraid of any words being misunderstood.

"Just what is my biggest problem?"

"There's a . . . situation at the office."

"What kind of situation?"

"Well . . . the men are on strike. They're demanding your resignation and that- that you be replaced by Mr. Malters. I'm sorry, sir."

"Yeah, me too," Monty mumbled to himself, and then said more loudly, "Alright, thank you very much. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

###

Men were marching concentrically around the building, shouting and gesturing violently with wooden signs. Despite himself, Monty was afraid to pass by them to the front door- they seemed riled up enough to do just about anything.

But he was the president, after all, and he wasn't going to cower beneath unjust intimidation so easily, no matter how much he wanted to. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stepped out of his car, and swallowed when he still smelled smoke.

Staring above the moving heads, Monty began his walk through the lot to the front door, so intent on just getting there without incident, he didn't notice the man approaching him from the side until fingers were circled around his arm, and a shaking, breathy voice hissed in his ear, "You don't belong here anymore, Vallen. All those people are dead because of you. You think you know everything and you're better than all of us, but you don't and you're not. So get out of here!" The hand shoved him, and he stumbled against a car, looking up to find four men leering in front of him, one of them being the shiny headed man from the board room.

The world began to swim, so Monty braced himself against the car before it passed a few seconds later. He just gave the men a sad glance and left. He walked away past his car, past the lot, and into the welcome darkness of the four-story parking structure beside the building. He sat on the cool concrete between two cars near the corner of the first floor, where the light only reached far enough for Monty to see the metallic glint indicating where each car was. He slumped over and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids until all he could see were sparkles.

Then came that strong, beautiful voice. The only voice in the world he wanted to hear.

"Monty? I came as soon as I heard!" He lifted his head at Liz's voice and sprang to his feet and into her arms, ignoring the lightheadedness that washed over him.

"Oh, what have I done, Liz? What have I done . . . " He murmured against her hair, and she pulled away, saying sternly, "This isn't your fault! You were doing what you knew was right! They were all in the wrong, and they could never understand you in a dozen lifetimes!" The words sure sounded right- he wished they were right- but a part of him didn't buy them. He wasn't sure why. He didn't get a chance to figure out why when the metallic glints were extinguished into total darkness.

###

His head throbbed with every pulse of his heart like the solemn drum beat of a funeral procession, and when he finally begrudgingly opened his eyes, he saw tan that seemed to vibrate. It took him another few seconds to put together that he was in the back of a car. "Liz?" He gasped out, "What happened?" He tried to sit up, but it just made his headache worsen.

"You passed out, Monty. You're not well! I'm taking you back to my place." Her voice wavered, and she snuck a worried look back at him.

"How long was I out?"

"Only a few minutes, but you hit your head, and . . . well, I was just scared, that's all."

Monty closed his eyes tiredly. He wondered how many had been killed. He wondered if the accident would still have happened if he had just said yes to the deal like everyone else.

Something frightening occurred to him, and his fists clenched at his sides. The employees wouldn't work under him anymore. That means he had lost the railroad. And that couldn't happen, because that was all he had in this life.