going to go see if Pop needs any help. See you later, okay?”
“Sure.”
He kissed her long on the lips, then trotted off. It’s true , Meredith thought—she did understand his defensiveness, and his reasons—she just would’ve understood more if she’d really believed he had been talking about her .
O O O
“Hey, Reedy,” said Hjerald, wandering over with a candle and a couple of sandwiches. “In this light, your hair looks like it’s going gray.”
“Thanks a lot, Hjerald,” said Meredith.
“Hey, I was only sayin’ …”
“Never mind. Walk me home?” Meredith said, offering her arm.
“Sure.”
With an armful of candles, and against Fuji’s protests that she ought to stay the night at Soame’s, Meredith maintained that what she really needed was a good night’s rest in her own bed, and she and Hjerald stepped out into the darkness of the town.
There were a few lights flickering in windows here and there, and every so often someone carrying a lantern would pass. They would usually cross to the other side of the street when they saw Hjerald and Meredith approaching, as if in fear—which, given the nature of the events which were occurring in greater and greater frequency, Meredith couldn’t hold against them.
They were only a few blocks from Meredith’s house when the rumbling began. Hjerald felt it first, and stopped her with an insistent tug on her arm.
“What is it?”
“Listen, Reedy—can you hear it?”
Then, after a moment, she could—the train from Ogdensburg, on its way to Watertown, was coming through almost seven hours late.
Meredith shrugged and hugged her anorak closer. “So? It’s the train. It’s running a little late, but …”
It suddenly dawned on her why Hjerald was bothered. They could hear the train clearly now, which was the problem—nothing else mechanical was working; no cars, no electric boats, no nada . The train shouldn’t have been late—it shouldn’t have been running at all .
“Come on, Reedy,” said Hjerald, tugging. “Let’s see if we can get to the tracks before it passes.”
Dropping the candles at the corner, Meredith and Hjerald jogged over to Tumbleweed Lane and over to Kartchner Place where the water tank sat above the tracks. The tank was empty, since all of the engines had been switched to diesel long ago, but it was a good place for necking, throwing water balloons at the adjacent ballpark, and getting a good look at trains that shouldn’t have been chugging their way through Silvertown.
As it was, they’d heard the rumbling too late; by the time they reached the tank, the last of the cars was speeding by. All they managed was a glimpse, but it was enough to confirm that whatever voodoo was allowing the train to run, it was still not enough to shelter the train completely—all of the cars were dark. No running lights, no engine light beaming ahead, and no lights in any of the passenger cars.
“Whoa,” said Hjerald. “A dead train.”
“Could you hear the engine?” Meredith asked. “It was running—that train wasn’t just coasting past.”
“Yeah,” Hjerald agreed, “but it was still a dead train.”
In the distance, past the cemetery at the edge of town, the train whistle pierced the night air in defiance of their assessment.
Meredith saw Hjerald shudder, and felt the tremors of one herself. The whistle had sounded just like a scream.
Turning, they again linked arms and retraced their steps into town.
O O O
As she headed home, Meredith realized that outside of a few pockets of madness, Silvertown was bearing up under a crisis pretty well; no panicking, lots of neighborly goodwill. Reassuring, especially when she had personal crises to deal with as well. Meredith stopped off at her house and lit up several candles, then, feeling a little hungry (a lot had happened since dinner), she eased her way through one of the windows at the Jensen’s house down the street and managed to get their little girl, Megan,
“Sure.”
He kissed her long on the lips, then trotted off. It’s true , Meredith thought—she did understand his defensiveness, and his reasons—she just would’ve understood more if she’d really believed he had been talking about her .
O O O
“Hey, Reedy,” said Hjerald, wandering over with a candle and a couple of sandwiches. “In this light, your hair looks like it’s going gray.”
“Thanks a lot, Hjerald,” said Meredith.
“Hey, I was only sayin’ …”
“Never mind. Walk me home?” Meredith said, offering her arm.
“Sure.”
With an armful of candles, and against Fuji’s protests that she ought to stay the night at Soame’s, Meredith maintained that what she really needed was a good night’s rest in her own bed, and she and Hjerald stepped out into the darkness of the town.
There were a few lights flickering in windows here and there, and every so often someone carrying a lantern would pass. They would usually cross to the other side of the street when they saw Hjerald and Meredith approaching, as if in fear—which, given the nature of the events which were occurring in greater and greater frequency, Meredith couldn’t hold against them.
They were only a few blocks from Meredith’s house when the rumbling began. Hjerald felt it first, and stopped her with an insistent tug on her arm.
“What is it?”
“Listen, Reedy—can you hear it?”
Then, after a moment, she could—the train from Ogdensburg, on its way to Watertown, was coming through almost seven hours late.
Meredith shrugged and hugged her anorak closer. “So? It’s the train. It’s running a little late, but …”
It suddenly dawned on her why Hjerald was bothered. They could hear the train clearly now, which was the problem—nothing else mechanical was working; no cars, no electric boats, no nada . The train shouldn’t have been late—it shouldn’t have been running at all .
“Come on, Reedy,” said Hjerald, tugging. “Let’s see if we can get to the tracks before it passes.”
Dropping the candles at the corner, Meredith and Hjerald jogged over to Tumbleweed Lane and over to Kartchner Place where the water tank sat above the tracks. The tank was empty, since all of the engines had been switched to diesel long ago, but it was a good place for necking, throwing water balloons at the adjacent ballpark, and getting a good look at trains that shouldn’t have been chugging their way through Silvertown.
As it was, they’d heard the rumbling too late; by the time they reached the tank, the last of the cars was speeding by. All they managed was a glimpse, but it was enough to confirm that whatever voodoo was allowing the train to run, it was still not enough to shelter the train completely—all of the cars were dark. No running lights, no engine light beaming ahead, and no lights in any of the passenger cars.
“Whoa,” said Hjerald. “A dead train.”
“Could you hear the engine?” Meredith asked. “It was running—that train wasn’t just coasting past.”
“Yeah,” Hjerald agreed, “but it was still a dead train.”
In the distance, past the cemetery at the edge of town, the train whistle pierced the night air in defiance of their assessment.
Meredith saw Hjerald shudder, and felt the tremors of one herself. The whistle had sounded just like a scream.
Turning, they again linked arms and retraced their steps into town.
O O O
As she headed home, Meredith realized that outside of a few pockets of madness, Silvertown was bearing up under a crisis pretty well; no panicking, lots of neighborly goodwill. Reassuring, especially when she had personal crises to deal with as well. Meredith stopped off at her house and lit up several candles, then, feeling a little hungry (a lot had happened since dinner), she eased her way through one of the windows at the Jensen’s house down the street and managed to get their little girl, Megan,
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