The Zombie Train The Transport Corp

Chapter 26: The Kriegszug

It was pouring down in Monterey, I was sliding in the mud trying to grease the drivers.
"Doing alright!" Fritz came up behind me.
"Yeah! Just one more to go!"
"Great! Word down south is that they've retaken San Ardo! So are we still going to King city?"
"Yeah! Dad's been on the radio, getting all the little details on the shipment!"
"Hell! We've got a fifty seven car train! And he wants every little thing?"
"Of course not! I sent him the manifest!"
"Oh!"
Powell came up to me in an ATV.
"Marvin! We're all ready to go!"
"Okay! Fritz, get up and make steam! We've got a couple hours left!"
As Powell drove away, I stashed the grease gun, climbing back into the cabin. I took cover under the roof, shutting the doors behind me. I threw off my raincoat, shaking off all the water. The air was nice and warm, I shivered in comfort.
Taking my seat, looking back at the engine behind me. Looking forward through the storm window, nothing but dark grey mist.
Over the radio, "Highball!"
I took hold of the whistle cord, two blasts on the whistle. I opened the regulator, letting all the condensation blow out. After a few wheel turns, I closed the cylinder cocks, then the master cock. The wheels began to slip, so I lowered the throttle a notch, waiting for the wheels to find their place on the rails. They did.
Soon we were doing five outside of Monterey. I kept the throttle as high as I could without slipping, trying to get our train out of the depot. Eventually, I heard on the radio that Powell cleared the platform.
We were gonna highball it to King City. But we misinterpreted big time. 57 fully loaded cars chock full with everything from sandbags to 50-cals is quite heavy, even on the flat grade outside Gonzales. Even three engines were slipping and sliding in the mud and rain. I had no other choice.
"Apply sanders!" I spoke over the radio.
"What!"
"Marvin! You know we don't get good sand like this anymore."
"Yes, I know. But either we run small, fast trains, or hundreds of people die."
A silence over the mic, only the static of an empty channel overpowered by the firce blasts of exhaust escaping up the chimney.
"Sanders on!"
"Sanders on!"
"Sanders on."
The sudden hiss of the jet of steam. I felt the thrust of the Berkshire in my seat, I also applied more throttle. Slowly we approached 20, about halfway to Soledad, 9:28.
Once we hit the downhill, we took off the sanders and hit the throttle. We took off at almost 80 miles per hour. Now the heavy chuffing was accompanied with the heavy thudding of raindrops, it sounded like someone beating at the cab with a million hammers. Looking through the storm window, trying to guesstimate where we are. My old pocket watch said 9:47.
"Do you think we'll make it!" Will called over the radio.
"Either we'll pull in five minutes ahead of schedule or blow up trying!"
"That doesn't make me feel any better!" Fritz called from the other side.
"Well keep feeding the boiler!"
I watched the pressure gauge, it hovered around 250 psi. I tried to keep this engine running economically, but the heavy train had me at 35% cutoff. Going over all the gauges and levels, water was good, air was good. I turned back to look ahead, staring into the dark grey land clouds.
Soon enough, I saw the King City limits. As we pulled into the double track, I heard the crackle of gunfire in the distance, over the rain and panting of our engines.
With much coordination from the ground, we came to a rough stop on track 2. I looked out of my engine, spotting Daddy approaching us.
"Well, here's your shipment you asked for!"
I jumped down, heading back down the train. Lifting the pin on one of the flatcars, I moved my arm from my chest out, repeating. I heard three whistles, then the clanking of slack running in from the engine, the cars slid away. I followed them to the switch stand, tossing it over. I called them back, moving my arm up and down. Two whistles. Reversing back onto the second track, waving to Powell as the three engines passed by me. I climbed back onto the 844, meeting Fritz at the throttle.
"Alright, my turn."
"Thanks, I have newfound respect for you engineers."
"Thanks."
I looked ahead, spotting one of the soldiers giving the stop signal. I closed the throttle, applying the independent. We came to a gentle halt.
I hopped down, pulling the pin connecting my engine to the train. Climbing back up, setting the reverser, backing up back home.