"James," Counts voice echoed through the tunnel. "Listen. If a train comes, bend over, grab your ankles and kiss your ass goodbye."
"You're funny," I answered.
"Don't listen to that asshole," Shannie cried up ahead, surprisingly far ahead. I couldn't see her, though the end of the tunnel was clearly illuminated. The paradox was maddening.
"I ever tell you 'bout the curse of the tunnel?" Count asked. I jumped as his paw grabbed my shoulder. "Why so jumpy?" Count laughed.
Up Yours, I didn't say. In the distance I heard a rumble. Another train? I squirmed from Count's grasp and stepped deeper into the darkness.
"Not so fast," Count said grabbing my shoulders.
"Let me go asshole!" I shrieked, elbowing his ribs.
"You pecker head!" Count shoved me, launching me forward. I threw my hands in front of me to break my fall. Jagged rocks seared into my palms. I swallowed a scream.
"Chill out!" Count said looming over me. "You all right?" he extended a hand to help me up. I ignored him. I rolled to my side. Up ahead, Shannie emerged from the darkness. She turned and stared back into the tunnel, hands on her hips.
"Be a douche bag," Count said when I didn't answer. Mumbling, he walked away. I found my feet and followed.
Count stepped into the light. Shannie spoke, Count waved a hand. She stood in the middle of the track, staring into the darkness. Though it was impossible for her to see me, I felt her glare.
"What's the curse of the tunnel?" I asked Count as I emerged. He leaned against the tunnel's bulkhead, legs and arms crossed. He ignored me.
"You had to bring it up," Shannie bemoaned. Count shrugged. "Go ahead, tell him," Shannie snapped.
"Just a crazy old coon's tale," Count replied.
"Geezus F-ing Pete," Shannie rolled her eyes.
Count motioned us to follow. A hundred or so feet off the tracks at the base of a steep hill, nestled amongst overgrown vegetation, rested the shell of an old stone house. Both sidewalls were intact, though scarred by flame. A chimney clung desperately to a wall. Stones from collapsed walls were strewn about, small trees poked through the cracks. The remains of a campfire rested in the center of the ruined house. Broken beer bottles sparkled in the sunlight. Used condoms hung from a tree.
The ground trembled, an eastbound freight screeched out the tunnel. Ignoring the train, Shannie stood at the foot of the crumbled front wall.