Once on the platform, the three Explorers made their way toward the main station.
“Feel like salmon swimming upriver,” Bill commented to Matt as they walked amongst the crush of people, all heading in the same direction. Matt just nodded.
“Keep an eye out for Jordan,” Bill continued.
“Will do,” Matt said.
A minute later, Bill felt Matt’s elbow nudge him, and he turned. Matt nodded, indicating a direction with his chin. Bill could see Jordan ahead of them, walking with a light-skinned black woman. Bill couldn’t see her face, but from behind she had a nice figure, a willowy shape, much like Meri’s, and was just a couple of inches shorter than Jordan. Her summer dress flicked about her legs with each step. “Interesting.” Matt just grunted. Lane, who by now was several steps ahead of them, didn’t hear them but had probably already spotted Jordan. Nothing gets by that guy, Bill thought.
Once the trio had made the main station, they saw that Jordan had already found a seat with his new companion in the Colored section of the station. Looking about, Bill spotted the schedule board showing which trains were leaving from which platforms. Birmingham was a fairly busy station, as the schedule board was full, but only gave schedules until nine o’clock.
Bill said, “Well, looks like we’ve got a while to wait. Any suggestions?”
Matt gestured toward the main entrance. “Don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry. How about we step outside and see if we can find a place to eat?”
“Either that, or we eat here,” Lane said.
The station had a restaurant and a small counter café, the type one would order a sandwich from the bar and eat standing up. The restaurant was smoky enough that the smoke was wafting out from the top of the door.
Bill shook his head. “Yeah, no. I vote outside.”
“I’d agree with that. No sense dying of lung cancer if we can avoid it,” Lane said.
As they started for the main entrance, Matt said, “What about Jordan? Think we should tell him we’re eating outside?”
Bill glanced over at Jordan as they passed him and saw him in conversation with his new companion. Bill still couldn’t see what she looked like, as her back was practically to them. Jordan glanced over at the three men and slowly nodded his head.
“Naw, he sees us.”
As they stepped out of the station, the crowds lessened a bit, but not by much. Just as many people were pouring into the station as were leaving, but the density of the crowd seemed lesser with the greater room provided, along with the lack of a roof that captured the sounds and reverberated them back, amplifying the overall noise.
The sun had just set, but the early twilight provided enough light that one could still see the area clearly. That would change in the next half-hour.
Bill spotted a couple of police officers standing at the base of the station steps, and immediately his heart rate accelerated. He could feel sweat immediately develop in his armpits, and his palms became wet. The stolen pistol tucked into the waistband at the small of his back felt like a burning anvil.
Stay frosty. If they were looking for us, they’d be attentive. Those two are just talking and looking at women.
He spotted Jordan walking down the stairs toward the street, still with the young lady. Jordan stopped, turned, and faced toward the station, nonchalantly looking for the trio as he continued his conversation with his companion. Jordan nodded toward Bill, then turned his head, indicating that they should continue on up the street.
As Bill suspected, the two police officers didn’t even pay attention to the three Hayekers as they walked past them.
The area surrounding the station was more of a commercial district than what they had experienced in Memphis, with many shops occupying the bottoms of taller buildings. None of the buildings exceeded ten stories.
Soon the three were seated in a small café, clearly frequented by travelers. Suitcases, carpetbags, and backpacks abounded. While cigarette and cigar smoke hung in the air, it wasn’t as thick as what poured out of the train station’s restaurant. To Bill, it was tolerable — barely. They had managed to arrange it so they were seated next to the section in the rear of the building reserved for non-whites. Jordan and his new companion occupied the table next to them.
Bill caught a profile view of the woman as he sat down. She was clearly of mixed race, with more than enough Caucasian to make her skin paler than Jordan’s coffee-with-milk color. It was only Jordan’s constant exposure to sun while conducting field surveys that made him even as dark as he was, and that was mainly a farmer’s tan dark. Unlike Jordan’s Nubian nose, most common in those of African descent, his companion had a Greek nose, straight with no bumps and narrow nostrils. It reminded Bill of any number of famous actresses from his Earth. Her face was an almond shape, with arched eyebrows and straightened hair. Bill could tell she was a beautiful woman in just that one glance, with her most startling feature being her green eyes.
Jordan turned slightly so he was facing the other Hayekers obliquely and quietly spoke to them, keeping his voice intentionally low, but not at a whisper, which could carry further than a low volume would. “Hey guys, this is Summer. Summer Washington.”
The three men, trying not to look like they were looking at her, nodded to the young woman, who responded with her own nod. Bill smiled to himself, thinking it ironic that Jordan’s new traveling companion had the same last name.
“We’re gonna be traveling together to Atlanta. She’s got family there.”
That caused a few eyebrows to raise, but nothing was said. Then the waitress arrived, setting water glasses down in front of the three men sitting alone. She gave Lane a sideways glance, clearly not used to non-whites who weren’t black sitting in her section.
Pulling an order pad from her apron pocket and a pen from her beehive hairdo, she asked between smacks of gum, “Ready to order?”
None of the three had even looked at a menu yet, but rather than have the waitress come back, Matt ordered for the three of them.
“Yeah, three cheeseburgers, please. And a couple of cokes.”
She briefly scribbled on her pad, nodded, then confirmed the order. “That it?”
Each man nodded.
With a nod of her own, she turned and left to place their order with the cook.
As she did, Bill noticed that Jordan and Summer were being attended to by a black waitress. Bill heard Summer ask Jordan, “What you thinking of gettin’, Martin?”
Supper over, the five proceeded back to the train station, the two blacks making sure to keep a distinct separation from the other three. The night train would be leaving soon, and they wanted to be sure they were on it.
Nothing like putting another state between us and what happened in Memphis, Bill thought as they passed through the station’s wide front doors. The smoke pouring out of the station’s restaurant still resembled that of a house on fire, and the fans in the great atrium did little to disperse it.
One thing that Bill’s study of the Confederacy had taught him was that each state took its sovereignty seriously. Unless it was black-on-white crime, it was hard for one state to get extradition of a person from another. Of course, there was still the Confederate level to deal with, such as the Confederate Bureau of Enforcement, an agency whose duties were similar to the Federal Bureau of Investigation back on Bill’s Earth. Bill didn’t see how killing some Barney Fife-like cop was something that would attract the attention of the CBE.
The two groups separated as they approached the ticket stations; whites to one side and coloreds to the other. Within minutes, they had tickets in hand and headed to the platform. This time, Jordan made sure that he went to the colored section. Bill could just imagine him thinking Don’t want a repeat of Memphis. Bill knew he didn’t.
It wasn’t long before their train arrived in a cloud of steam and coal smoke, the detritus settling cinders on the platform and those standing on it. Bill brushed the cinders off his vest, hoping they wou
ldn’t burn through or stain it too bad, and thinking just how backward the Confederacy was, even for the technology of this timeline.
Once empty, the conductor allowed passengers on the train, checking their tickets and punching a hole through each one with a hand-held hole puncher. With each punch, the old black man, hair gray and ebony face wrinkled with age, would glance up at the ticket holder and say “Enjoys your trip, sir.”
Bill nodded back, not sure what the proper response should be. Apparently, his nod was sufficient, enough of an acknowledgment without drawing any further attention.
Looking down the track, Bill could see Jordan and Summer boarding the colored section of the train. Seeing that relieved his anxiety a bit. What the hell was the Commandant thinking, putting me in charge? he thought. No way in hell I’m qualified to do this. This stuff’s too wearing.
Bill and the others climbed up into the train car. As seating wasn’t assigned, they found a section that would allow them to sit as they had on the last train, two seats facing two seats.
Bill couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep, but when Lane kicked the soles of his feet, jarring him awake, he realized that’s exactly what had happened. Trying to come awake quickly while still fighting off a cave bear, he groggily asked, “Wazzup?”
“Pulling into Atlanta.”
Bill straightened up in his seat, cracking his neck as he did so, realizing then how stiff it felt. He then felt the pressure from the stolen pistol dig into his back, and he was immediately brought back into the present. He shook his head, trying to clear out the last of the cobwebs. He could feel the deceleration of the train and hear the squeal of iron brakes on iron wheels on iron rails, and the train station came into view, lit up with commercial lights in the pre-dawn. Looking out the window, Bill could see that the platform next to the train was sparsely populated. Takes somebody with a gotta be there now attitude to be waiting for a train this early. Wonder what their rush is?
Looking back into the train car, he saw Matt was also just waking up. Lane had a slight smile.
“Look like a couple of sleeping beauties. Good thing I wasn’t a Smilodon or something like that.”
Bill nodded. “Good thing.” He turned to Matt. “Grab our packs down, and hand me mine.”
Matt did as ordered. The rest of the car was also bustling about, retrieving packs, suitcases, and in some cases, plain canvas bags stuffed with possessions.
The train finally came to a complete stop, and the trio made their way out of the car. Bill could feel fuzz on his teeth and sand in his eyes, not a comfortable feeling. He was sure his breath probably smelled as good as it felt, full of nasty fuzz. Rubbing his chin, he could feel the stubble from a full day’s growth. Not much, just enough to give his hand the sandpaper feel.
“First stop, a bathroom,” he said as they disembarked onto the platform. The others nodded.
Before heading for the bathroom, though, they waited at the platform entrance to the station ensuring that Jordan was also exiting. Within minutes, they spotted their companion, still in the company of Summer Washington. The crowd was clearing out as most passengers made their way into the lobby and off the platform, but Bill didn’t care. He waited for Jordan to get close before stepping into the station.
Within a minute, Jordan and Summer had joined them. Both looked sleep-deprived, and not in a satiated manner, either. Whatever conditions Bill, Matt, and Lane had endured on the long ride, Bill was sure they were worse for Jordan and Summer.
“How you doing?”
“Tolerable,” Jordan replied. “Considering I haven’t slept a wink all night, sat on a rock-hard bench, and haven’t had a chance to even brush my teeth since yesterday morning, I’ll go with tolerable.”
This elicited a chuckle from the others. “Tolerable. I like that,” Lane said.
“Well, let’s at least get a bit freshened up before we explore this great metropolis,” Bill said, turning toward the station lobby.
Jordan sped up a bit to walk next to him.
“How you doing?” Bill asked in a low voice.
“Hanging in,” Jordan replied. “’Course, helps to have a native guide.”
Bill glanced over his shoulder at Summer, who was walking a discreet distance behind Matt and Lane. “Right pretty guide you found,” he said in a droll manner.
“Ain’t that a fact,” was the grinning response.
“So, how far is she gonna tag along?”
“Good question. She’s pretty much on board for everything. I gave her the cover story and she feels I need a protector, considering the situation down here.”
Bill’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s a bit of an understatement.”
“Yeah, ain’t that a fact.”
“She know your real name?”
“Not yet.”
Bill nodded. “Okay. I’ll pass that on to the others.”
As the small group crossed the station, they split up to use the respective services, Jordan and Summer heading toward the Colored restrooms while the others headed to the restrooms reserved for “Whites Only.” For some odd reason, perhaps because his hair was straight and he didn’t talk with an Ebonics accent, Lane was considered white. It appeared to be oxymoronic, but it was what it was, and he took advantage of it.
Toiletries done, the three men made their way out of the station. Atlanta was no different from the other Southern cities they’d visited. Old, brick buildings surrounded the train station, none more than five stories high. The streets looked like somebody had forgotten to pay the paving bill for a few years, with mostly haphazard patches covering growing pot-holes. What traffic that existed at that time of the morning was clearly trying to avoid bottoming out in some of the larger holes.
Once outside the station, Jordan and Summer joined the other men.
“Summer says there’s a hotel that’ll fit us all, us in the colored section.”
Bill looked toward Summer questioningly.
“It’s the Peachtree Palace, just a couple of blocks away, closer to the airport. They’re used to travelers, so it won’t be a problem if they see a group with coloreds with them.”
Bill nodded. “Sounds good. If you wouldn’t mind showing us the way, we’d be most appreciative.”
Summer smiled at him. “You sure do talk funny, but I’d be glad to show you where it is. I’m headin’ there myself.”
65
Drew didn’t think they’d have any luck finding the suspects. From what Buck Patterson said, it seemed nobody remembered a single Negro traveling alone.
The two law enforcement officers arrived at the mouth of the alley next to the train station where the constables had been found. Red crime tape was strung across it, and a young uniformed constable was on duty. Portable lights had been set up, lighting the crime scene.
Patterson told the constable, “He’s with me. Special Agent Drew Peters of the CBE.”
As the two men stepped under the tape, Drew saw the constable writing something in a small field notebook. If he’s any good, he’ll at least be writing down our names and the time of entry into the crime scene.
Drew followed the lieutenant into the alley, where the chalk outline of the dead constable was drawn on the gritty concrete. The body had been removed hours ago and was now resting in one of the chilled body lockers in the city’s morgue. There was another chalk outline, only not as well defined, where the other officer had supposedly been found. The alley reeked of urine, and Drew could hear rats skittering around in it.
“Here’s where we found ‘em,” Patterson waved at the chalk outlines. “Both were cuffed behind their backs with their own cuffs, hogtied, face down, with socks stuffed in their mouths. Lividity had already set in on Crump by the time they were found, so the first constables left him as he was until Homicide arrived.”
Drew could just imagine what Crump must have looked like, with all the blood in his body settling, creating a dark look to the parts on the ground.
“Face
musta looked pretty bad.”
“You ain’t kiddin’. Looked like a two-dollar whore after her pimp found her hiding money from him.”
Drew nodded. Putting a pair of rubber gloves on, he proceeded further into the crime scene. “Other than their guns, what else was taken?”
“We think just money, and maybe a handcuff key. We found their wallets tossed in that there garbage can,” Patterson pointed toward a rusting galvanized metal can, “and, Crump’s handcuff key is missing.”
“Any prints?”
“Nope. Whoever did this knew better. Everything’s been wiped clean. And, I mean everything.”
Fingerprints were only recently being used to help solve crimes in the Confederacy, despite having been used by other police agencies throughout the rest of the world since the 1890s. Those in law enforcement in the Confederacy blamed most crimes on coloreds, who were never afforded a fair trial, or even an unfair trial, usually being lynched or shot by white men upon identification. Why bother dealing with fingerprints? Still, the CBE was finding their use to be quite beneficial in solving a backlog of crimes, so a request had been made to have all crime suspects fingerprinted, just in case. At least, those who weren’t already lynched.
Looking around the alley, he spied the door to the train station. He could see smears on the door handle, but nothing that looked like fingerprint powder.
“Your boys dust the door handle?”
Patterson followed Drew’s gaze, and his eyebrows went up a notch.
“Don’t look like it.”
“Might be a good idea.”
“Reckon you’re right. Lemme get a team out here. You think he mighta gone back in the same way he came out?”
“Probably not, but best not take any chances. Dust both sides. You never know what you’ll find. In the meantime, I’m gonna go inside and see what I can find.”
With that, the two men made their way back to the mouth of the alley, past the chalk marks, rusting garbage can, trash, and stale urine.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 71
