The lady finally reemerged, sitting on the sill, feet dangling over the edge. Her eyes, wide and rolling, jerked from my face to the ground below to the open space between the train and the trestle.
“Okay lady, great! Now, what you need to do is stoop in the windowsill and then jump over to me—”
“What? Are you crazy?” Her shrill voice cracked with fear.
“Probably, but that has nothing to do with this. You jump and I’ll catch you—”
“I can’t do that! I’ll fall!”
“Maybe,” I replied honestly, “but if you don’t try, you will fall, along with all those folks stuck behind you. Now, come on!”
“No,” she broke into tears, “I can’t; I’m afraid!”
My patience started wearing through and I sighed in exasperation. Then I noticed movement just below me and I gave a nod of thanks to the gray-haired, soot-covered rail worker who clung to the next lower beams, waiting to help.
“Look lady, there’s a bunch of guys come to help you climb down; you’re gonna be fine, but we need to move quickly.”
She brushed away the tears streaming down her face, smearing dirt across her flushed cheeks. “Okay, okay. But first, promise me you’ll not let me fall!”
The trapped people behind the woman had lost any of the camaraderie of before, and started threatening once again to push her out of the way. And if she didn’t hurry up, I would help them. As for her request, I hesitated to make a promise I didn’t absolutely know I could fulfill, so I prepared to gloss over her request.
Then a loud screech etched the air and everyone froze, except for our eyes, which as one, slowly and cautiously rose to where the car had a tenacious hold to the train above. The coupling wouldn’t hold much longer.
“Jump!” everyone yelled at once.
She clamped her eyes shut tight, started screaming, and leapt from the train window.
She jumped short. Time seemed to crawl into slow motion. I latched a steel grip onto the trestle and leaned out, way out, clamping a hold of her flailing hand. I caught her, letting her falling weight swing into an arc, my injured shoulder shrieking in protest, all the while her screams echoing off the surrounding ravine walls. Almost instantly, our hands started to sweat, and I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer, yet she just hung there, her eyes shut tight, still bloody screaming!
“Lady,” I yelled, “would you stop screaming and climb onto the trestle?”
Thankfully, she abruptly stopped screaming, but replaced it instead with a monotonous chant of prayer “Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme…”
The rail worker below me grabbed a hold of her around the waist and pulled her safely to the trestle. I released my slipping grip on her hand, and she threw her arms around the fellow’s neck in a death clench, almost causing them both to fall. The worker pried her fingers loose and the forced her down to the fellow waiting on the next level. One passenger on her way to safety, fourteen to go. I turned back to the dangling rail car.
The next passenger squatted in the window, ready and waiting. The seventy or so-year-old woman with her pinned-on hat hanging askew, wore a determined gleam in her eye, shadowed with just a hint of fear. I held out my hand and she didn’t hesitate. Her jump landed solid and true, and I only had to steady her landing with a hand on her arm.
“Thank you, young man,” she gave me a somewhat wobbly smile, revealing almost toothless gums, before reaching down to the rail worker’s waiting hands.
A young boy, maybe eight, jumped next. His enthusiasm deserved honors, if not his aim, and I had to reach out and snatch him around the waist in order to land him safely. One after another, the passengers made their escape. My muscles started aching and twitching with fatigue, but I couldn’t quit, not yet.
“How many more?” yelled the rail worker below me, glancing nervously at the approaching fire.
“Just one, I think,” I answered, renewing my grip on the trestle in preparation.
The final fellow, a blond gentleman in a ruined suit, jumped to the support structure with no complications. He slapped me on the shoulder in thanks, not noticing he almost knocked me off the trestle.
Whew, time to get out of here!
But just as I stooped to climb down, a faint noise pricked my ears.
“Help me! Is anyone there? Please?”
Oh, no, we missed one. “Hey, wait!” I yelled down to the descending rescuers. “There’s one more!”
“Forget it, son,” the rail worker spouted over his shoulder. “There’s no more time. We did what we could, now save yourself!” He scrambled down without looking back.
Torn, I stared after his departing shoulders with almost every one of my muscles yearning to follow. Yet I hesitated. I looked back at the dilapidated train car so tenaciously defying gravity, and wondered if I could really just walk away from that voice calling for help.
“Hello? Help me, please?”
Nope. Taking a deep breath, I called out, “Little girl? Can you hear me? My name’s Bobbi and I’m going to try to help you, okay?”
“Okay,” came the response, her tiny voice filled with obvious relief.
“What’s your name?” I asked, while scooting back to my position at the edge of the trestle.
“Karen. I’m eight.”
“Okay, Karen, I want you to move over to the window.” I waited for her face to appear, but nothing happened. “Karen? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then come to the window, honey. You need to hurry; we don’t have much time.”
“I can’t. I’m stuck.”
Cold fingers of fear wrapped around my heart, squeezing. “What did you say, Karen?” I held my breath, hoping I’d misunderstood her.
“I’m stuck, Bobbi.”
I glanced longingly down at the earth where the rail worker had just touched ground. I dug deep for every ounce of control I had to resist the consuming urge of self-preservation to get the heck out of there.
“Bobbi? Don’t leave me, please? I’m scared.” Her little voice quivered as panic tried to take hold.
I took another deep breath, glanced up at the connections holding the car and offered up a quickly whispered prayer “God, I’d appreciate a little help getting out of this one.” Then aloud I yelled in to Karen, “Hang on, kiddo. I’m coming to get you.”
Not wasting another moment, I threw myself at the train car with such force that I knocked it into a slight swing. I held my breath, expecting to go crashing to the earth any second, but miraculously the connection held. I scrambled into the window, catching my trousers on a shard of glass and ripping a hole.
“Piss,” I muttered, but didn’t give it another thought. Time slipped away faster than could be spared. “Karen, I’m here. Where are you?” I peered into the dark corners for her.
“Here,” came her vulnerable voice and a flutter of little fingers.
“Oh, Karen,” I whispered. She’d somehow gotten herself buried beneath a couple of broken benches. The other passengers had probably never even seen her; at least, I hoped that’s why no one had helped her. I crawled over the debris to the opposite side of the car and started digging her out of her prison.
“Where are your Ma and Pa, Karen?” I grunted, heaving on a heavy bench.
“Chicago. I’m with my Auntie Susan. She got up to use the privy, but then the big crash came. I don’t know what happened to her,” she reported, her lips trembling.
“Well, Karen, I happen to know for a fact that the privy is located at the back of the second passenger car.” I’d snuck on board a few days ago to look around. “And everyone on that car is safe and sound, so don’t you worry about your aunt. Now, let’s ugh…just…urg…concentrate…oof…on you!” The final bench gave way, freeing Karen. Soot coated her ashen ten-year-old face and tangle of blond hair, but couldn’t hide the blue and purple bruises forming beneath her skin. I held out my hand to pull her up, but her pale gray eyes stared ahead unfocused, sightless .
“Kar
en,” I whispered, “can you see?”
She shook her head, pawing at an escaped tear, smearing the dirt . “Naw, my eyes never did work. Sometimes I wish I could see, especially a sunset or a rose, but usually I’m fine with just being me,” she answered
“Oh, um, okay. Well, are you hurt anywhere? Any broken bones? Any gushing wounds?”
She shook her head again, releasing a few more tears.
“Good. Let’s get out of here, okay?”
But we seemed to have yet another problem. Her foot had wedged into the twisted metal that used to be a railing. Karen pulled and tugged at her stuck foot to no avail.
“Now what?” she whimpered .
“How should I know?” I snapped, getting even more frustrated.
“Because, you’re the hero, and hero’s always know what to do.”
“Oh, so that’s how the world works,” I retorted.
Then, the train car suddenly gave a huge groaning shudder and dropped two heart-stopping feet before slamming to a swinging halt. I had to heave my stomach back into place before I could continue.
I yanked my knife out of the sheath, slicing through her knotted laces and then down the heel of her stuck foot. Then I reached down and clasped her hand firmly to help her to stand, her foot slipping out of the ruined shoe with just a tug. We quickly and clumsily made our way back to the window, Karen with her hand held out in front of her, me with my mind racing for just how we could manage to escape. I could only come up with one option.
“Karen, I think what we’ll have to do is for you to climb on my back, understand?”
“I think so.” Her voice wavered nervously.
“Good. This might be a bit scary, but if we work together, I think we’ll kick this problem in the arse!”
A tiny hint of a smile appeared; just the distracting effect I’d hoped for.
I took a hold of her arm and swung her onto my back. Her skinny legs snaked around my waist, crossing her feet securely, and locking her arms tight around my neck. I twisted my head so I could see Karen out of the corner of my eye. “Hold on, no matter what! Do not let go. You understand?”
She nodded solemnly.
I climbed awkwardly into the window frame, silently ordering my legs to quit shaking. I eyeballed the distance between the swaying boxcar and the wooden trestle, and it seemed to have expanded by a hundred miles. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I exhaled the air along with the heavy doubt, replacing it with determination and false security; if I didn’t have real hope, I could at least fake it.
“Is something wrong?” asked Karen at my hesitation.
But before I could answer her, the box car let out a deep trembling rumble and right then I knew, the connection had broken! I leapt from the windowsill just as gravity finally pulled the train free. A second of empty silence, then an explosion split the air as the two train cars smashed to the earth. My hands reached out for the trestle, clamping onto the beam, and I immediately swung around placing myself between Karen and the explosion. I ducked my face into the crook of my arm, but the burning flames painfully licked at my skin. Karen’s screams raked my eardrums as debris pelted our heads, and I kept my eyes clamped shut, afraid of being blinded myself. But when the roaring dropped a degree or two, I risked a peek…and then wished I hadn’t.
Piss on the flames of hell!
I shook my head to erase the image of the rapidly approaching terror and tried to focus.
“Karen, you okay?” I yelled over my shoulder.
“I— I think so,” came a hoarse croak.
“Good, ‘cause we gotta get out of here. Hold on tight!” I reached up for the next level of the trestle.
“Why are we going up?” Karen asked frantically. “Down! We need to go down!”
“Can’t,” I puffed out between breaths as I kept climbing.
“Are you crazy?” she yelped.
“Probably,” I retorted, a bit miffed at being accused of a scrambled mind twice in one day. “But the explosion caught the rest of the trestle on fire, so up is the only way!”
Neither of us wasted any more oxygen on talking. Smoke rose thick and hot, choking our lungs. Sweat dripped into my eyes, burning and itching. I knew the trestle wouldn’t last long against the flames, and all too soon, the wooden structure would collapse. We had to reach the remains of the tracks before that happened.
“Faster, faster, faster,” I mumbled rhythmically as we climbed towards the top. The flames roared as they consumed the trestle, popping and cracking below our feet. Karen’s hands clutched my neck tightly, making breathing even more difficult. But I didn’t dare ask her to loosen her grip for fear she’d fall. When we reached the top, if we reached the top, I’d have time enough to breathe then.
Finally, through the sweat and the smoke, I caught sight of the wooden ties and the metal rails of the track. I lunged at the protruding rail just as the trestle legs crumbled to bits of charcoal and ash, pulling the entire structure to the ground. Karen screamed at the thundering collapse while I struggled to maintain my sweaty grip on the rails. I knew we wouldn’t last long that way, my arms and shoulders aching with fatigue. I quickly yelled over my shoulder for Karen to hold tight, then swung my leg up and hooked it over a railroad tie. Karen now hung horizontally between me and the ground, a hundred and twenty feet below. Heaving hard and using my free leg as a lever, I pushed both of us up and around, until I sat on top of the rail, gasping for air. With shaky arms, I pushed us backward, sliding along the rail until we had solid ground under us once again. Exhausted, I rolled off the tracks. Karen released her death grip and rolled to the dusty ground beside me. For a moment, neither of us could speak. Faintly, I heard the crowd of survivors making their way up the hill toward us, but for the moment, I concentrated on just getting air past my bruised throat and into my charred lungs.
“Bobbi?” Karen whispered.
“Yeah?” I mumbled back, not moving.
“Thank you.”
A wracking cough seized my chest and for a second or two I couldn’t talk. But when I could, I whispered back, “You’re welcome.”
“That was pretty exciting, huh.”
I eased my head around to give Karen an exasperated look, but her grimy smile kept me from my sarcastic remark. Her eagerness for adventure reminded me of my little brother, Robby, and maybe even myself. Instead I shook my head and said, “That’s one way to look at it.” I struggled to sit up, every muscle groaning in protest.
“And I must say,” she continued, “you’re the most amazing lady I’ve ever met!”
At first, I just chuckled, but then her words washed over me like a bucket of iced water. Lady? I turned toward her slowly, fear sprouting in the pit of my stomach.
“Excuse me? I’m no lady; I’m a guy.” Even I heard the waver in my voice. But my secret couldn’t be uncovered, it couldn’t!
She smiled knowingly. “Of course you’re not a boy. First of all, you smell just like Ma when she’s been out digging in the garden. And second, you’re all soft and comfy, like a ma or a granny or an auntie, not solid like a pa or granddad.”
My breath caught in my throat. Was hers just the wisdom of a blind child, or did everyone know? Panicking, I thought back over my journey thus far, and no, my heart eased back on the frantic pounding. No, so far my disguise has worked. But Emma had been right, there was more to being a guy than short hair and trousers. I’d need to be more careful. I rolled over and knelt in front of Karen, taking her grimy hands into my rather shredded ones.
“Listen, Karen, you mustn’t tell anyone that I’m a girl, okay? It’s very important that everyone believes I’m a boy. Otherwise they’ll ship me off to prison and I’ll never be able to help my brother. Do you understand?”
“Are you on an adventure?” Her pale, unsighted eyes grew wide with excitement.
“You could say that.” I nervously eyed the nearing crowd. “So, this is just between you and me, okay. Please?”
She nodded solemn
ly. “This will be our secret!”
Then the throng of people enveloped us in cloud of confusion. Time for me to leave. I gripped Karen’s shoulder in farewell and then slipped away into the woods. I found my pack just where I’d stashed it, and shouldered it with throbbing muscles. I looked back at the burning wreckage and shocked survivors. I blew out a big sigh.
“I guess I walk from here.”
I soon found myself in the beautiful state of Tennessee. Somewhere out there, my future Union infantry awaited. Robert’s old sharpshooter group had moved into Tennessee since he had disappeared back in July, so I followed, hopeful to find some clues. Surely someone had information on my brother, saw him fall, witnessed his capture, or knew something. I had to be careful with my inquiries, though. Anyone close to Robert would know he had a seventeen-year-old sister, not a seventeen-year-old brother.
My slow progress ate away at my patience. I prayed Robert didn’t lay suffering somewhere, while he awaited my arrival, though my gut told me otherwise. I tried to walk as far as I could, as late and as early as I could manage each day. Some nights I found sleep hard to come by, despite being exhausted. So instead of staring at the cobwebbed rafters of a borrowed barn, or the dusty, itchy innards of a hay stack, or even the scary images flashing on the backs of my eyelids, I’d make more time by walking though the night. The nights offered quiet and solitude, the silver stars gleaming above, the whispering wind rustling through the trees, the eerily beautiful hooting of a great horned owl. At night, I didn’t have to worry as much about encountering people, especially men patrolling for deserters. Of course, it was better just to avoid people all together.
One afternoon drew to a close with dark, threatening storm clouds hanging low in the sky. The temperature plummeted, and big, cold raindrops soon plastered my hair and clothes. Not the ideal evening for a stroll. I quickly scanned the surrounding area looking for some type of cover. The options didn’t look promising. I ducked into the pine forest on my left, hoping to avoid a few of the raindrops, when I caught a whiff of smoke. Smoke could mean a campfire or kitchen stove; it almost always meant people I’d do best to avoid. So I approached with caution
Echoes of Dark and Light Page 4
