4. You Can Start By Wiping That-

8 3 0
                                    


"Ready?" I asked.

Her hand slid delicately down the side of my face, my skin lightly tingling from the wake of her fingers. "I'll never be ready."

The train bucked again, almost knocking us over—

And over the side.

"Here goes nothing," I said, breaking from her embrace.

I stepped back across the train cars. The wind was loud, rushing by us as quickly as the blurred ground underneath us; the smell of burning diesel fuel was overpowering. I reached down, grabbing the heavy, iron lever and pulling up on it as hard as I could.

It didn't move.

"What's wrong?" Anna called from the other car. The wind noise was dying down—the train slowed as it struggled, straining to pull itself up the grade...

Which meant we didn't have much time.

"I don't know," I said, trying to rock the lever up and down, hoping it would break it loose. "It won't go!"

Anna stepped over the gap between the train cars.

The train violently jolted right as she lifted her foot. For one terrifying moment she was frozen in the air, her body stretched and tilted above the blurred tracks below, her arms reaching out towards me, her toes barely floating above the grated metal platform—

And then she was in my arms, her body nestled up against mine and feeling as perfect as it ever did.

What are you doing?!

I wanted to shout at her, be angry at her—for throwing her life away when it was all I cared about. But there was a deeper part of me, a part of me that still bubbled up no matter much I've tried to arm myself against it... a part of me that was glad she was still here, with me, even though it was dangerous.

The selfish part of me.

"Why?" I asked her, my face buried in her hair, my voice muffled. "If you stay here on the engine, you'll—"

Anna grabbed the iron lever. "Pull!"

I pulled.

The train was almost to the top of the hill; now or never. I pulled on the bar as hard as I could, the veins popping out in my forearms, my back beginning to burn, pulling and stretching and—

The lever suddenly popped free.

We fell backwards into the driver's compartment of the locomotive, safely away from the gap.

The passenger car began to separate.

The long rubber hose connected between the engine and car behind us pulled taut as the long trail of passenger cars slowly fell further behind. The Engineer had said as soon as that rubber hose broke, the emergency brakes would engage in the passenger cars, bringing them all safely to a stop—

Leaving me and the engine to keep going.

I turned to Anna. "There's still time to jump back across! Hurry!"

She didn't move.

And selfishly, neither did I.

The rubber hose finally exploded, pulled to its limit between the two train cars. There was burst of white compressed air, followed by a loud, violent pop—the passenger cars brakes began screeching, filling the dusky setting sky with the sound of screaming, rending metal that howled like metallic shrieking.

The train engine holding just Anna and I crested the top of the hill—

Then started down the other side.

The downgrade grade was sharp. I kept my eye behind us, waiting to see the long trail of passenger cars come rising up over the top of the hill—

But they never did.

"We did it!" Anna shouted, pumping her fist as the train began to pick up speed again.

"Why? Why didn't you stay?" I said. There was so much I wanted to say, to think, to feel... but I couldn't. There was no way to make sense of the maelstrom—it felt like a hurricane in my heart, an unstoppable turbulent blending of crushing sadness and regret, of anger, of feeling completely helpless...

And relief that she was with me.

Anna looked at me, tears in her eyes. "I told you I've seen it all at this point. I've been everywhere I've wanted, I've done the amazing and beautiful things there is to do—but there was always something missing. I never knew what it was until I met you."

She took my hand.

"It was you. Experiencing life is a beautiful, wondrous thing—but it's so much more so when you can share it with somebody. All of those sunrises and sunsets, all of the perfect, lovely moments I've seen and experienced, all of the new, breathtaking and awe-inspiring places..."

She looked at me, a tear trailing down her cheek.

"They were missing you."

"That's not true."

"Yes," Anna said, "it is."

I wanted to argue with her, to tell her that's not how it was, she didn't need anybody, nobody does, to tell her that what she was saying wasn't true... but in my heart I knew it was.

Because I felt the exact same way.

The train began to shake.

"Now what?" Anna said.

"The Engineer said this is the maximum downgrade," I said. "The track ends at a flooded lake washout—the railroad company never finished it. My only plan was keeping you and all the other passengers safe... I got half of that, I guess."

But it was the half I wanted.

"He said if we get going fast enough," I continued, "and manage to keep it on the track—it should be enough."

"Fast enough?" Anna said. "Fast enough for what?"

"It was all I could think of," I said, embarrassed.

"What?"

I turned away, walking towards the engine controls. The metal panels in the driver's compartment began to rattle, the floor vibrating as a loud, rough buzzing began to fill the small room. I could feel the train continuing to speed up, faster and faster.

"I'm going to skip this train across the lake," I said.

"You're—you're going to what?"

"Like skipping a stone across a pond." I said. "The British skipped bombs across lakes into enemy dams in World War II—obviously a train locomotive isn't going to skip very far, but..." I swallowed dryly. "But I'm hoping it'll at least cushion the impact when this thing hits the water."

She eagerly jumped into the driver's seat, buckling and tightening the straps. "See what I mean? It's always an adventure with you."

I wish I could have told her it wasn't, that life rarely was—but as I opened my mouth, I suddenly realized that I wasn't afraid anymore. The exhausting past twenty-four hours had melted away, leaving me not with fear, but... excitement. Eagerness, anticipation.

I realized when she had spoke of finding her missing piece...

That I had found mine too.


Action Short StoriesWhere stories live. Discover now