by E. E. Borton
“I’m not that old, River,” I said, putting my good arm around her. “I won’t let you out of my sight. I won’t let them get near you.”
“They’re not going to be afraid of you either,” said River, ducking under my hold, walking away. “They’ll come after you, too.”
I hope so.
Chapter 40
Iron Horses and Secondhand Lions
Doc was moving a little slower on the walk to downtown Stevenson from the river. When Kelly told me he was seventy-two years old, I looked at her like she was crazy. I pegged him for being in his late fifties, early sixties at the most. He was carrying a few extra pounds with a round jolly face, but when that old-timer yanked my arm, I thought it was going to come out of the socket. He slowed down a bit, but he never stopped. I imagine that’s the way he lived his life. That man was not a quitter.
Stevenson, Alabama, had a population of seventeen hundred before the event. Kelly told me less than half were accounted for, and even fewer were active in the community after 8:13. Most of the able bodied men were sent to the larger towns of Scottsboro and Bridgeport to defend against drifters, looters, and cowards. That left Stevenson with a population consisting of the elderly, women, and children.
Stevenson, Scottsboro, and Bridgeport were well prepared prior to the world stopping. They seemed to have the same philosophy as I did, making plans and not hesitating to execute them. As we approached the railroad tracks that paralleled Main Street, there was a buzz of activity. I froze when I saw it. My jaw dropped when it started moving.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
“Impressive, isn’t she?” said Perry, noticing my amazement. “I have to tell you, I’m a little surprised we haven’t seen or heard any others on the rails.”
“How is that possible?” I asked.
“It runs on steam, city slicker,” said Perry. “The only part that was electric was the headlight. But we replaced it with an oil lamp.”
“We rolled it right out of the museum,” said Doc, pointing to a large building on Main Street. “Stevenson was born a railroad town, son. The curator is our conductor and the crew is a group of steam engine enthusiasts. They have two working steam tractors for the fields and another engine that pumps the water into the tower. We should have a third tractor up and running in a few days. There were five altogether, but we had to cannibalize the other two.”
“It wasn’t like we could walk into the NAPA and find parts,” said Joey.
I stood in amazement as the steam powered locomotive chugged passed us. With nothing but smiles and pride, everyone I could see was waving at the conductor. Attached to the locomotive were a tender and two passenger cars. On top of each passenger car were sandbag turrets with .50-caliber Browning machine guns manned by two crewmen at each station. Nobody moved until it disappeared around a bend, leaving a thick trail of smoke and steam behind it.
“It’s our lifeline between Scottsboro and Bridgeport,” said Perry. “None of this would be possible without that train. They’re heading south to pick up the community leaders for the meeting and some of our boys for the festival tonight.”
“You’re having a festival?” I asked.
“Every year in June,” said Doc. “It’s the annual Depot Days celebration. It’s usually a week-long event that ends with a street dance in the middle of town, but this year we’re just having the dance.”
“It’ll be good for all of us,” said Perry. “We need this to take our minds off our troubles.”
“We just left trouble,” I said. “What about the river flooding?”
“I’m not a procrastinator,” said Perry, “but it can wait until tomorrow.”
“I agree,” said Rick. “We’ll talk about it at the meeting, but there isn’t much we can do about it today. We’ll take the Kramer boys on the train up to Bridgeport tomorrow. From there it’s a five-mile hike to the dam. We can have them there by early afternoon.”
“Besides, there’s no guarantee they can close off the valves once they get there,” said Doc. “No, we’re going to have our dance tonight. It’s important we lift the spirits of the town every once in a while. A lot of folks are looking forward to this.”
Downtown Stevenson was tiny. No buildings were over two stories, and they were all situated on one side of the tracks. The museum in the center of the strip – that once housed relics – was alive with activity as several older men were working on the last salvageable steam tractor.
After I was introduced to the crew, we continued to the Stevenson Career Center which held the offices for local officials and where the community meetings were held. The initial suspicious looks I received from the townfolk melted away into smiles and warm greetings when they discovered I was kin to Perry. Some already knew who I was. (I found out that they were told not to shoot the guy with the raccoon eyes and a cast on his right arm.)
Remembering earlier conversations, I noticed the near complete absence of men under sixty. (I imagined this scene was common in the 1940s when America’s young men were overseas in World War II, leaving behind a workforce of women, and older men.) The few I did see were engaged in some type of manual labor or heavy lifting. When they saw us coming, they’d stop what they were doing to interact. It had nothing to do with meeting me and everything to do with seeing Kelly.
If I didn’t meet everyone in Stevenson, it had to be damn close. After a few hours of greetings and the tour of the town, my group of seven split up. Doc and Kelly went to the hospital located in the last building on Main Street. (It was more like an urgent care clinic, no bigger than a convenience store.) Rick headed to the church two streets over to help his flock prepare for the festivities. Perry, Joey, and River headed home to help Donna with the myriad of dishes she was going to bring to the party. I went back to the museum to hang out with the old-timers. I was fascinated by their work.
“Would you guys mind if I stuck around for a bit?” I asked.
“Not at all,” replied Bruce. “Why don’t you use that good hand and grab that wrench for me.”
“This is all amazing,” I said, handing him the wrench, “but that locomotive is a thing of beauty.”
“She is,” said Parker, working on the other side of the tractor. “She ran the triangle from Chattanooga to Nashville and then to Birmingham for over twenty years. I reckon she’ll be doing it again soon.”
“She was built back in 1940,” said Bruce. “They decommissioned her in ‘61, and we had her in here for almost forty-seven years after.”
“Didn’t take much to get her going again, either,” said Parker. “The mayor, God rest his soul, came to us two years ago asking if she could ever be rail worthy again.”
“I said, ‘shoot’,” added Bruce. “‘Give me what I need and I’ll have her belching out steam in two weeks’. I did it in ten days.”
“You did it?” said Parker, peeking from around the seven-feet-tall steel wheel. “All by yourself? Dang, you are good.”
“Cut it out, you old fart,” said Bruce, laughing. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Still can’t. Anyway,” said Parker, “you see, all this mess doesn’t affect me at all. I remember the days when there was hardly a car around here and everybody walked or rode horses. This town was all about the train. We didn’t even have our first electric street light until 1950. You see, I remember what it was like not to have it. Power, I mean. Ain’t no big deal for me. These younger folks, they didn’t know what to do when it went out.”
“You should’ve seen their faces when we fired her up for the first time on the rail,” said Bruce. “It was like they were witnessing a miracle when she lurched forward, making that run to Bridgeport. I guess it kind of gave them hope.”
“I’m sure it still does,” I said. “And you have a steam engine for the water system?”
“We do,” said Parker. “We can use the engine for practically anything, but they decided keeping that water tower full was the best place for it. W
e power it up the tower, and gravity moves it down. All the comforts of home.”
“You’ve never had running water at your house,” said Bruce. “What do you know about the comforts of home?”
“Don’t have power either,” replied Parker. “Ain’t you been listening? That’s why none of this affects me.”
“I’ve never asked this question before,” I said, “but what do you two think happened?”
“I don’t really care,” answered Parker, leaning against the wheel. “I’m ninety-two years old. I wake up every morning pissed off that I woke up at all. I just sit up, shaking my head that the good Lord left me down here with this jackass for another day.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” said Bruce. “Why don’t you go lie down on the track? Train will be back in an hour.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Parker. “Thank you.”
“What do you think, Bruce?” I asked, smiling at Parker. “Where did the power go?”
“Well, I’m no scientist, but I do know a thing or two. It’s just my opinion, but I think nature had enough of our mess. I think she changed it up on us.”
“Changed what?”
“How it works. You see, you need certain elements in a specific order to produce and store electricity. If one of those goes away, so does the power and the ability to hold it in a battery.”
“How does it go away?”
“That, I don’t know,” said Bruce. “But really, it hasn’t gone away. Just our ability to make it. If I shuffle my feet across the carpet, I still get shocked when I touch a doorknob. You’ve seen the lightning storms lately. Mother Nature still knows how to make it.”
“Like everything else we try to control,” said Parker, “there’s something more powerful out there that’ll take it away from us. That’s all it is. She took it away from us. Now we’ve got to figure out a new way to get it.”
“A new way to get it?” I asked. “I didn’t think you had a use for it.”
“I don’t,” said Parker. “I just know how scared folks are these days. People killing each other for things they shouldn’t have to kill for. Those two pretty ladies you were with, River and Kelly, bad things like that should’ve never happened to them. Never. Other than Bruce here, this town is full of good people who’d do anything for you. There’s no need to kill for it.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Nice talking with you, son,” said Bruce. “Come by anytime when Parker isn’t here. He should be dead in an hour or so.”
I stepped outside onto the sidewalk, looking around at all the activity. Finishing touches were being put on a stage constructed across the street near the tracks. Instruments were being tuned by the musicians as ornaments and lanterns were being strung from posts, crisscrossing the street. When people passed by, they all greeted me with smiles and nods. They were right for wanting the dance to take place. At least for one night maybe the problems of the new world would wait for the last song before they came back.
With a feeling of anticipation that didn’t come around often in those days, I made my way back to the house. When I came through the front door, I was hit with some of the best aromas anybody could imagine. Walking into the kitchen, I busted Perry sticking his finger in an apple pie. Donna turned around, smacking his hand with a wooden spoon. He pulled it back, giving me a wink and a smile. After hugging his wife he and Joey left a few minutes later to make the meeting that would take place before the dance.
I sat in the kitchen with River and Donna as they packed the pies into baskets. As the minutes passed I could feel their excitement grow. They were both looking forward to the evening’s festivities.
Walking upstairs to my room to get ready, I found a neatly folded stack of clothes on the bed. Dressing after my shower, I stood in front of the mirror for a final inspection. I stared into it, hoping I’d never wake up from this dream.
Chapter 41
Gasoline
When I made the decision to abandon my car in Atlanta, my world decelerated from seventy miles per hour to three. With no TV, phones, or internet, I expected it to slow down even further. Walking down the street towards downtown Stevenson, carrying a basket of pies, I realized my world was moving faster than at any point in my life.
I was no longer bombarded with social media and breaking news. I was no longer concerned with world events or skyrocketing gas prices. The entire country – the planet – could no longer watch reality TV, living vicariously through celebrities’ joys and sorrows. Mother Nature forced us to live our own lives, or die trying. In an instant, we all became reality TV.
Before 8:13 I followed a strict schedule. I knew where I was going to be and what I’d be doing for days, weeks, months, even years in advance. If somebody had told me I’d be carrying pies to a street festival in Alabama with a gun tucked into my belt, I’d ask which hospital they escaped from. Yet here I was.
My life was a series of planned events occasionally interrupted by unexpected moments. Some of those moments were welcomed with awe and gratitude that fate and chance showed me how wonderful the world could be. Some of those moments brought me to my knees, begging God to turn back time. My life was now a series of unexpected moments occasionally interrupted by a planned event. The jury was still out on which was a better life.
The preparations I saw earlier in the day did no justice to the end result. As we turned the corner onto Main Street, nobody would’ve thought the world might be coming to an end. There were countless colored lanterns and candles casting a warm glow against the darkening sky. As we walked closer to the circle of light, there had to be at least two hundred people within it. Most of the men of Stevenson had come home.
The dance floor in front of the stage held most of them who were moving with varying degrees of skill as the eight-piece band stepped up the tempo. Faces greeted us with warmth as we carried the baskets of food to the long line of picnic tables. As soon as I put down mine, Joey came up behind me, handing me a cup.
“Good God,” I said after taking a cautionary sip. “It’s fruit flavored gasoline.”
“Peach moonshine to be exact,” said Joey. “Fresh off the mountain. Take it easy with that stuff. I don’t want you puking on my dad again.”
“No promises,” I replied, laughing. “Thank you.”
Grabbing his mother’s hand, he twirled her onto the dance floor. River and I watched as she tried to protest but quickly gave in, smiling up at her son. Perry slapped me on the back, taking River from my side and following Joey’s lead.
The train was a mesmerizing back drop to the scene. It was adorned with decorations and candles in every window. It was if the goliath was standing guard against anything that would challenge their high spirits. Even I felt safe seeing the twin heavy machine guns watching over us from atop the passenger cars. The shooters were scanning for unwelcomed trouble outside of the circle.
Turning around, I spotted Doc sitting alone at a table. He raised a glass to his lips, but he didn’t raise his eyes from the candle in the center. Deep in thought, he didn’t notice me standing beside him.
“You okay, Doc?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine.”
“You look like a man with something on his mind. Is it the flooding?”
“No,” replied Doc, leaning back in his chair. “Mrs. Fisher gave birth this afternoon. She was a delightful young lady. I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened, but I lost them both.”
“I’m so sorry, Doc,” I said, taking the seat beside him.
“That little one would’ve been the first.”
“The first?”
“Yeah, the first baby born after all this crap started,” said Doc, shaking his head. “I’ve been doing this long enough not to get too worked up when things go wrong, but this one got to me. I had to leave Kelly there by herself to help the family. I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m sure she understands,” I said. “How a
bout a swig of this?”
“What is it?”
“Guaranteed to take your mind off your troubles,” I said, handing him my cup.
“Not bad,” said Doc, finishing the cup with no reaction.
“You’re my hero.”
“I’ll take another one of those if you don’t mind,” said Doc. “I’m just going to sit here for a minute.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing and putting my hand on his shoulder.
I was surprised when he reached up and squeezed my hand. I knew it wasn’t the only sad moment he carried with him. These days, if it was a man’s job to save lives, his own would be wrecked.
As I made my way to the popular table with the jars of clear liquid, I was pleased to see Bruce and Parker manning the station. “Guess you missed that train, huh?”
“Don’t remind me,” said Parker, shooting a look at his partner.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t miss the next one,” said Bruce, handing me a fresh cup.
“Two if you don’t mind, sir. Doc needs a little pick-me-up.”
“Yeah, I heard,” said Bruce. “Damn shame. She was a sweetheart.”
“So’s this one right here,” said Parker, looking past me.
Turning with two cups in hand, Kelly was standing with her arms crossed. “Somebody has a short memory.”
“One’s for Doc,” I said, defending myself.
“Oh, good, he’s here,” replied Kelly, dropping her arms. “I didn’t know if he’d make it. Parker, can I get one of those, please? Put it on my tab.”
“Give me one of those smiles and we’ll call it even,” said Parker. “You know, if I was sixty years younger, this guy wouldn’t stand a chance with you.”
Obviously Perry got to him.
“You’ll always have a chance, handsome,” said Kelly, taking her cup and leaving Parker a smile.
After narrowing my eyes at him, I turned to see Kelly walking away. Since I had met her, there had been no occasion for her to wear anything but functional clothing. The function of her sundress was hypnotic. Yep, this dance was a very good idea.
