Cemetery Street

With every step the rumble became steadier. Trying to ignore my fears, I quickened my pace, working deeper into the tunnel. Aside the track bed, the rat's squeals became frenzied, overhead, bats swooshed by. Underneath my feet, the railroad bed rocked. I froze. That ain't Cromby. I refused to look, convinced that if I didn't, my menace would go away. The rumble grew into thunder, beneath me, the ground shook. "Fuck!" I screamed; my voice echoed off the walls. I glanced over my shoulder. An east bound's headlights illuminated the curve in the track just over the trestle.

I sprinted deeper into the tunnel, futilely racing the Freight to the far side. I kept my head down, looking at the railroad ties pass under feet; You can do it! You can beat it! Do it for Count! Wind rushed past my ears; my lungs filled with cold sooty air. The train's lights pierced the tunnel. It chased me. Night became day. In front of me my shadow raced, at least it beat the freight to the other side. Horrified, I stopped. I wasn't halfway through. The tunnel quivered. The train's horn blared, its echoes repeating its demand for my surrender. I turned and faced the approaching banshee, staring into its blinding lights. I remembered Shannie on that June day. I wondered what she'd think about this. I wondered if she'd scream for me as I did for her. To his credit, the engineer didn't break - what was the use? Calm overtook me as the freight closed. I pondered if the engineer was the same as that June day; I wondered what he thought - if he even cared. To him, I was another nut with a death wish.

I stood motionless as the banshee closed - its horn screaming. With all my might, I jumped to my right. For a brief second, I felt suspended in mid air. Then my right leg and hip exploded with pain. I screamed; my cry swallowed by the freight's furry. This is what's it like to be freight trained, I thought, remembering the day Count creamed me in Fernwood - his hit seemed much worse. A chill washed over me. I reached down relieved to find my leg attached. I sighed realizing the train didn't hit me. I had crashed into a freezing puddle lapping against the tunnel wall. The puddle didn't save me from a nasty case of road rash, a souvenir from the track bed. My leg and hip still bear its scars.

I remembered Russell's story and pictured him in the same position. Mere feet away, the freight's clanking wheels were deafening. Russell was right, they sounded like chains. "The clanking chains of a banshee's pall," Russell's gravelly voice replayed itself. I groaned and buried my head under my arms. Closing my eyes tight, I waited for the freight to pass, seconds seemed like hours. I cowered, a weird sensation overtook the pain. Rats were crawling over my legs. One stood perched on my hip, wiggling its whiskers at me. I heard my scream over the Freight's metallic chorus - I leapt to my feet and ran against the train's windblast.