Farraday Road

by Ace Collins

  “It’s going to be awfully hard to break through a thick stone wall with one pry bar and a few pipe wrenches,” McGee said. “Plus, while we’re pretty strong right now, a few days of hard labor without food and our output will match that of a group of preschoolers.”

  Janie just listened. Sometimes it’s better to listen to heartache than try to soothe it. If enough hurt is allowed to ooze out, a lot of times the pain departs with it. So rather than speak, she sat by, waiting for McGee to continue.

  “Do you have regrets? ” McGee asked.

  “I guess a few. I’d be crazy not to admit that I’d like to see, though no one could do anything about that. And now that I think about it, I probably would have been much better off if I hadn’t signed up for the canoe trip. I don’t really like the water that much anyway.” She was disappointed when again she heard no laughter. Was she losing her touch or was her timing off?

  Or maybe it was because they were all about to die.

  “What do you do? ” McGee asked.

  Janie laughed. That question came from out of the blue. “I work in a law office.”

  “Really?”

  Why did that surprise him? Surely by now he had figured out she had brains and skills. After all, she had saved his life when she’d led them behind the wall and away from the explosion.

  “Yes, and I’m pretty good at answering the phone, taking notes, and even typing letters. And don’t ask about typos. I have a printer that prints out a Braille version and a regular version. I can proof my own copy. I’m also on the team that evaluates potential jurors. It seems I sense things others don’t notice.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” McGee said. “I’m aware of how much we owe you.”

  The silence that followed his apology indicated he couldn’t come up with anything else to say. That had to be a first. The Kent McGee she’d heard of—and everyone in law had heard of him—was legendary for never being at a loss for words. No one ever caught him off guard. He rarely lost a case and had even appeared before the U. S. Supreme Court several times. He was one of the stars of the state and was known for his dynamic and eloquent summations. Yet the confidence, the energy, and even the spirit she’d actually heard as a spectator on two occasions in the courtroom were not in evidence now. He was like a lost and scared little puppy.

  “Janie, I’ve spent my life living to be in the spotlight. I thrive there. I share it with no one. Guess what? Now I find myself about as far removed from a light as I can be. And in the blackness of this cave, I don’t like what I can see. Now that sounds kind of funny.”

  And she thought she was blind. Yeah, she understood seeing herself in the dark better than anyone. It’s hard to hide flaws when all the lights are out. It’s almost impossible to hide your insecurities when you have no control over your world. Your confidence sinks to nothing.

  For a couple of years after she’d gone completely blind, she had wanted to die. She hated herself and her world. She had no hope. The future had seemed like a prison. Then she learned to dig deeper. She discovered talents she didn’t know she had and found new abilities.

  But that wasn’t what saved her. Learning to like herself saved her. She discovered she was pretty cool. The world needed to know that. So in different ways, she made that known every chance she got. She also learned she had to quit feeling sorry for herself. That was something McGee hadn’t figured out yet. But when she finally had figured it out, she really started living and loving every minute of her life.

  “I’m all alone,” he confessed.

  As if she needed to hear a confessional. Being blind didn’t make her a priest. Still, she didn’t stop him from unburdening his soul. As if lawyers really had souls. That was a crack she kept to herself.

  “I’ve had a string of relationships, but no wife. My parents are dead. I have no siblings, and I’ve never had a child. Probably will never have children. I’ve got more money than I need. I’ve been on the cover of Time. Heck, I was once even a judge at the Miss USA contest. But what does all that add up to right now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  “Hey, there are a lot of folks who owe their freedom to you.”

  “True,” he admitted, “and a lot of them were guilty. But right now, that doesn’t seem like much to hang my hat on. Can’t you see me before God, explaining, ‘I know the guy killed his wife, but I found a loophole’? That’ll go over real well.”

  “Well, we’ve all done a few things we aren’t proud of.”

  “A few things doesn’t begin to cover mine. The only man who would mourn my passing will die with me.”

  “At least you have someone who cares about you now.”

  There had been a time when she had no one too. She lost her sight before her teens. Her father died when she was twelve, her mother when she was fifteen. She’d spent three years in foster care, then an orphanage, and finally shot out of the system at eighteen. She’d had to find her own way in the world. If she’d died during that time, no one would have mourned for her either. But she changed that. She had tons of friends now.

  Someone bounded up the steps of the caboose. “Hey, we’ve been looking for you two,” Lije said from the doorway.

  She could feel his energy, his excitement.

  “Dr. Cathcart’s got an idea.”

  “WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS A BALDWIN-BUILT 4-4-0 locomotive. It was the common model used in the late 1800s in the United States. Note that it has four drive wheels, two on each side—they are the big ones behind me—along with two more guide wheels on each side at the front of the locomotive. The design used on this model has the flared stack, which I have always felt made them the most beautiful engines on the rails. Note our locomotive was painted green, red, yellow, and black. This proves the unit was seen as more than just a piece of equipment. It was deeply treasured by the men who worked on it and by the crew who ran it.

  “For its time, this was a very powerful locomotive. It had to be in order to climb through the Ozark hills while pulling heavy loads. And the great news is that my initial examination leads me to believe it was fully serviced not long before it took its final run.

  “Now, here’s the interesting part. I had an opportunity just three summers ago to work as part of a team that restored a twin to this machine. That locomotive had been out of commission for years, sitting outside in a damp climate, but our team got it working. It’s currently hauling passengers through the woods of New Hampshire.”

  Janie found his story fascinating. It brought back memories of a time when her father took her to a train museum. But she sensed the woman standing to her right was not as moved as she was.

  Confirming Janie’s intuition, Curtis said, “I’m sure this is fascinating to you, but we need to get out of here.”

  Undaunted, Cathcart continued his lecture. “I know what you want and what we need. What I’m trying to tell you is that the dry climate in this cave has left this locomotive in excellent condition.”

  “And?”

  “Do you remember a story of a large 1930s vintage plane that ferried some men up to Greenland during World War II?”

  “No.”

  Janie knew the story well, but decided not to mess up the professor’s rhythm. Besides, she liked to hear him speak. His voice had all the warmth of a hearth in the wintertime.

  “Let me refresh your memory. The plane was abandoned when the men closed the small support base. I think it was a B-29. It sat there on the cold ground in Greenland for decades, exposed to the region’s cruel elements. It was finally spotted by someone flying over the area. A crew flew up there a few weeks later, drained and replaced the oil and fuel, greased the motor, put on new tires, and in a matter of days had the plane running. After they built a temporary runway, they flew it back to the States.”

  Janie spoke up. “You’re saying this thing can run?”

  “I think so. We have what we need. The materials for lubrication are here. We have a tender filled with very dry wood, and the
spring offers us a source of water.”

  Curtis still didn’t get it. “I don’t see us taking any long trips. We’re in a cave, with rock walls.”

  “The wall right in front of the engine is not very thick, but even with proper tools, which we don’t have, it would take us a long time to make any kind of hole in it. Without tools, we’re not able to do anything except dream of how close we are to freedom. I know you’re aware of that. That’s obvious by the look you’re sporting right now.”

  Janie could feel Curtis’s glare, so she figured the look must really be scorching to those in the lantern light.

  Undaunted, Cathcart continued. “If I can get this locomotive running again, I’ll back it up as far as possible, then unhook the engine, stoke up to maximum pressure, and put it in forward. We’ll build up as much speed as possible over the two to three hundred yards of empty track it’ll travel to this wall, and I think the tons of force exerted by the collision will move a lot of rock. My guess is the opening will be large enough for us to escape.”

  “You can make it run? ” Curtis asked.

  “With some help. Just carrying water from the spring to fill up the boiler is going to take a long time. And getting this thing lubed will take a lot of effort. But this old gal’s in surprisingly good shape. I don’t think anything is stuck, and the general maintenance tools are in the cab, so I can examine most of the potential problem areas before we try to bring her back to life.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Are you the mechanical sort?”

  “My dad was a mechanic,” Curtis said. “I worked in his shop when I was in high school. And since this thing contains a lot of pipe, I can throw in the fact that I used to go on service calls with my grandfather, who was a plumber.”

  “Even better than I could have hoped for,” Cathcart replied. “Now, I guess that makes the rest of you the bucket team.”

  “I’m good with water,” Lije announced.

  Janie added, “I’m not big, but I’m strong for my size. And a few hours ago I became very familiar with water.”

  “I’m in,” McGee mumbled. “Better than sitting on my rear waiting for the Grim Reaper to club me over the head.”

  “We’ve gone pretty much this whole day without eating,” Curtis said. “We have some food, peanut butter and crackers. And if anyone gets tired, it’s all right to come back to the train and take a nap. There are a couple of bunks in the caboose. I put the backpack with the food in there.”

  All through the meal, Cathcart provided a lesson in 1880s technology. Except for a few questions from Curtis, no one spoke. After they finished eating, Curtis and Cathcart went to start the mechanical work. The others tried to figure out how to get water to the train.

  Lije suggested pouring the whiskey out of the two barrels they’d found and use the barrels to carry water.

  “Even if we did,” McGee said, “I’m not sure how much good it would do. We couldn’t lift a full barrel. But the booze is also a food source, so we have to find something to empty it into. Since we can only carry one barrel at a time, let’s leave the second one intact.”

  Janie grinned. “I take it you drink.”

  “Actually, Miss Davies, it wouldn’t be for me. If we somehow manage to get out, I could use that aged brew to extract some large favors from a few judges I know. So, if possible, I’d like to save it for a bargaining chip.”

  “That brings a whole new meaning to the bar association,” she replied. So he was planning on getting out of here. She wouldn’t have guessed that an hour ago.

  McGee could read a jury like a book. Janie was even better at reading folks in one-on-one situations. She’d been around these four long enough to see who they really were. Lije and Cathcart were optimists; they had faith Ole 74 would be able to push through the wall. That’s just the way the professor was. It was natural for him. And the fact that Lije, who just recently lost his best friend (it was all over the news; it didn’t take long for her to put two and two together), still had such hope was something she found remarkable. It spoke volumes on what his wife’s life must have stood for.

  Curtis acted tough, but she was as scared as anyone. Maybe more so. She was like McGee; she seemed to have spent her life avoiding people and was now scared no one would miss her when she was gone. She now worried that her career had caused her to miss the stuff that made life meaningful. She also seemed loaded up with guilt, so even though she didn’t want to be, she was a skeptic. Still, she pretended to believe. Why the charade? Why was she trying to fool herself and the rest of them?

  Because she yearned for a second chance. Right now, they all did.

  “I have an idea that might save time,” Janie said. “There are two buckets in the caboose that we can use for dipping in the spring. The opening in the chamber to the spring is too small for the whiskey barrels, but the buckets should be the right size. The wagon’s in pretty good shape, so I think we can roll it over to the cave’s side wall, bring the water out a bucket at a time, and dump it into the two whiskey barrels. Then we can push the wagon across to the locomotive.”

  Lije and McGee were speechless.

  After delivering a few loads of water to the train, they took a break. Janie found herself sitting next to McGee while Lije went to check up on Curtis and the professor.

  “So you haven’t given up yet,” she said. She could feel McGee looking at her, surprised by her question.

  “I wouldn’t call it giving up. I’m not a quitter. I just evaluate every element. I know the problems we’re facing and I know the odds of getting a train that has not run for twelve decades to function. Those odds are simply too long to figure. So naturally I’m not optimistic.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but your concept is deeply flawed.”

  “How?”

  “You only have faith in what you can see. I learned a long time ago it’s the things I can’t see that have the most effect on my life.”

  They sat in silence.

  IT HAD BEEN FORTY-SIX HOURS SINCE DR. CATHCART had convinced Curtis to participate in the effort to resurrect a locomotive that hadn’t run for one hundred and twenty years. With hardly any rest and very little nourishment, Cathcart and Curtis had crawled over, under, and around almost every part of the ancient Baldwin-built engine. They had freed stuck pistons, lubricated ancient fittings, and checked even the smallest couplings. It was a difficult job requiring as much plumbing as mechanical expertise. The task was made even more challenging by having to illuminate their work area with inconsistent lantern light and candles.

  Lije, Janie, and McGee had finished hauling the water. Bucket by bucket, they had splashed water into the boiler. After completing that task, the sore and exhausted trio were left to their own devices. McGee and Janie spent the first of those hours sleeping. Lije tried to rest, but after a couple of futile attempts, he pulled himself from the bed he had fashioned with clothes and blankets found in the boxcar. Then, as if drawn by a magnetic force, he found himself in Andrew Farnsworth’s private car. Sitting at the rolltop desk, with five lifeless bodies to witness his moves, he opened each drawer, examining everything he touched with the same reverence as a monk would employ while handling a scroll found at the Dead Sea.

  For most of the night, he read letters, notes, expense records, and inventories. It took several minutes just to scan the itemized treasure list. How much was missing? Which items had been in the empty crates? What had happened to them? Had there been another man who somehow escaped death?

  This backward leap in time, with all the questions that came with it, offered a chance to immerse himself in not just another age but another identity. As he read Farnsworth’s writings, he essentially became the man. The more he pieced together from the mysterious man’s life, the more he saw through his eyes.

  In a darkened world where time stood still, in a place where there were no sunrises or sunsets, the movement of the clock meant nothing. A minute and an hour were twins; so wh
en the groan of the car’s steps signaled a visitor had come calling, he had no clue as to the hour or how long he had been lost in time. Lije glanced over his shoulder and saw Janie slowly working her way through the car.

  “Janie, you have a new dress.”

  She smiled. “I got tired of the old clothes, used the spring water to clean up, and went through some of the stuff in the boxcar until I found a number about my size. I passed on the wool socks though. By the way, what color is my new frock?”

  “Ah … I’m not really very good at this. It’s kind of dark red and a medium blue, a checked pattern would be the best way I could describe it. The belt is blue.”

  “So, you’re saying it’s colorful.”

  “I can honestly say there’s no doubt you’re making a fashion statement.”

  Her hands pressed down the front of the vintage cloth as she tilted her head to the left and looked toward the point where she had heard Lije’s voice. “The crate this dress was in was so well sealed, the material feels almost like it’s new. I may have to take you back down there in a little while to find a matching bonnet.”

  A bonnet! Who knew a blind person could or would care so much about appearances? It surprised him. But why shouldn’t she care? In the lantern light she almost glowed. Maybe it was the blonde hair or those blue eyes. There was simply something different about her. Was it coming from the inside or the outside, from the heart or from the skin? He couldn’t tell.

  “They have men’s clothes too,” she added. “Some flannel things, some wool suits. I even came across a couple of vests and a lot of boots. And the fact I’m mentioning this is more than a suggestion. I think the two words that best fit what I’m smelling are stale socks.”