SCAPEWHEEL

Chapter 1: Zero Hour

Those wheels were heavy and spinning—linked in rows of three on each side by a gritty coupling rod and toting over one million tons of riveted steel. The boiler inside was more hellish than the locomotive that encased it, measuring ten times the height of any man around. Trapped coal, scorching bright reds and oranges beneath flames, kept its firebox alive and steam in full swing and a trail of thick black fumes inked the sky enough from the smokestack to turn a good day into night.

Addison listened in from miles away. His shovel in hand, and snugged over his sweaty head, a distinguishable pinstripe cap serving as part of his uniform.

The thump-thump of driving wheels reaching uncharted spark-inducing speeds to cross every track, was a heartbeat he knew too well of a mechanical beast most people might refer to as a train not too far away.

A whistle sounded, followed by the screeching struggles of brakes taming those wheels into a cruise, miles before it entered the high vaulted halls of the Grandgervield Train Station. Glass ceilings, bordered by towering steel archways and handsome architecture, glimmered under the sunlight as it welcomed its beast.

A vigorous wind pressed the back of Addison's neck. He stood motionless within the bustling masses of suitcase draggers and ticket holders, boot trekkers, and breathless corset wearers and then the wealthy vest fellows who held onto their lace-glove wearing wives dearly. But still, Addison felt the very floor quake as the train moved in, before reaching to a complete halt.

"Adds quit ya fancying will ya?" someone down the corridor blurted—someone who could be seen wearing the same unforgivable pinstripe overalls when the crowd briefly cleared. "We got to get to the roundhouse before shift starts!"

Addison sighed, adjusted his cap, and bashfully hurried over in an effort to quiet his little friend before he had more to say.

Lewis was his name—the obnoxious friend that had used his hands to amplify his shouting before an annoyed crowd. Just Lewis. He would have despised anyone one who called him, Lew, Lewy, Lu-Lu, Loser, Lucifer or anything else besides Lewis. At eighteen, he was short for his age, the rusted shovel he held onto peaked just over his short afro.

"Adds-"

"I'm coming" Addison said to him.

Lewis tilted his grin sideways and squinted, "sure". He then plopped the shovel over his shoulder beside his neck and started walking, assured Addison would be right behind him. "Those ladies aren't interested in boilersmith men like us Addy..." he stated, eyeing the two women in well-tailored bustled dresses stepping off their silver coaches. Lewis started what Addison feared to be a rant in which he went on and on about the men who did the job they did, and the women that ran away from them. His voice echoed as they hurried along the corridor that would lead them to railyard out back. "They prefer dainty men with pocketbooks" Lewis continued as he pushed open a swinging door to the outside. "But that's okay. Let the truth be known that they can't handle—"

The door swung back and nearly knocked Addison out as he entered. He shoved the door back open. "You're terribly off with your guesswork Lewis." He said finally from behind. "I was just thinking..."

Lewis looked back, "about what?"

Addison shrugged and gave him a weak answer, "I don't know...the beauty of it...

"It's okay to be shy about romance, Adds."

Addison could only facepalm his own head when Lewis completely missed his point. "I was referring to the Grandgervield trains"

"Look Adds, if you prefer to settle down and marry a train, I guess I won't hold it against you. I can work with that too, but I'll charge you extra."

At a loss for a suitable response, Addison only stared and blinked at the kid.