Paperback
-
PICK UP IN STORECheck Availability at Nearby Stores
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781683505105 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Morgan James Publishing |
| Publication date: | 02/06/2018 |
| Pages: | 154 |
| Product dimensions: | 4.90(w) x 7.80(h) x 0.50(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
SAINT LOUIS, NOV. 6, 0130 EST
I awoke with a start, the phone blaring in the night. I hadn't set an alarm in twenty-some years. The phone took its place. I rolled over and picked up the handheld unit, then mumbled out my "Hello." The automated female voice replied with the familiar "Railroad calling," and continued with the menu options. I punched in my employee number and a series of numeric choices in the dark. Practice makes perfect. A real live female responded, "Mr. Time, you are on the E103 at 0130 hours."
"Who is my conductor?"
"Mr. Evans," she said, followed by a click and the dial tone. I really don't need to ask who the conductor is for my return trips. I do this because, when startled awake, I am uncertain whether it is a return trip.
After the phone call, I have two hours to make it to the railyard and be ready to move the 1:30 AM train. I have therefore trained my body to lie in a semi-coma for about a half hour and then to move into a vertical stance and wander into the nearest shower. The shower usually brings me into consciousness.
I dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, placed my toothbrush back into my grip, and was ready to descend to the hotel lobby.
The night man, Steve, was reading his iPad.
"Hey Steve. How's it going? Have you seen Evans yet?"
"No, have some coffee. I just made it, and there are some cookies left."
"I think I will," I mumbled. I poured some black magic into the Styrofoam cup and added two packs of sugar.
"Hope the coffee does the trick tonight, and hope Evans is on time. He's got the reputation of oversleeping, and we're on duty at 1:30 AM."
I took several small sips of Steve's stiff brew. "Looks like our van is coming a bit early. Do you mind ringing Evans' room?"
The sound of the opening elevator door caused us to turn in that direction. It revealed Evans standing under the lone transom light. Like Lurch from The Addams Family, he declared, "You rang?"
Evans stands six feet seven. He has a broad forehead and speaks in a baritone voice, slowly and methodically. Most trainmen call him, appropriately, "Lurch." On the railroad, we rarely use a man's given name. My mother named me Benjamin James Time. The trainmen call me Big Ben. I prefer to think it has nothing to do with my protruding stomach, but rather because you can set your watch by my actions.
"Come on, Lurch. We need to board our limo. The railroad waits for no man or beast. I'm the man. You're the beast."
"Why did we get called so early?" Evans mumbled. "We were four times out [fourth on a list to be called out for a train] when we got in yesterday. I thought I'd get at least six hours of shuteye."
"I don't know, but I haven't had eight solid hours of rest in two weeks," I replied.
As I slid the van door open I said, "Hi Chuck. You on night duty?"
Chuck, the driver, nodded and said, "Yep, and a cold night it is. Do you guys want to stop by Subway for some eats?"
"We sure do," I responded.
Lurch, just beginning to awaken, said, "I think I'm going to diet and skip the sandwich."
"It's a twelve-hour trip home. Are you sure? You will be crying and complaining like a little schoolgirl, begging for some of my sandwich before we even get to Casey."
"I need to lose a few. Got a new honey on the line."
"You need to do more than just lose a few," I called out as I left the van. I ordered an Italian sandwich for Chuck as well as my favorite ham and cheese. While I watched the assembly of my sandwiches, I thought about the reason Chuck took up driving the rail limos, which are truly just minivans. Chuck retired some five years ago from a maintenance job. A couple of years back, his wife got cancer. After they had to declare bankruptcy, Chuck started driving the vans to chauffeur train crews around day and night. They barely scrape by, but his wife needs one last round of chemo. I returned to the limo and handed Chuck his sandwich.
"Thanks, Big Ben. I appreciate the kindness and the supper."
We made small talk as we proceeded to the yard office. I glanced back at Lurch and saw that he was peering intently at his cell phone — probably the new honey.
The yard was relatively small, located just east of Saint Louis. The gray-brick yard office was an unwelcoming dreary sight in the middle of the night. Nevertheless, it was the portal to home. As Lurch and I entered the office, we heard the familiar voice of Indiana, fellow engineer, short and loud, shouting, "That should be our train. We've been waiting for two hours!"
The trainmaster bellowed back, "I assign the trains. Yours will be along any minute."
"You said that two hours ago," Indiana replied as he stomped off, giving us the stink-eye.
Lurch walked stiffly past Indiana and grabbed our bulletins off the printer. He turned and approached the yardmaster, Jesse, one of the few females able to withstand this male-dominated culture, for the work order. We were in luck and received both sets of documents, a rarity in this yard office. We hurried out of the office while the getting was good. The trainmaster could have given us Indiana's late train. That would have meant at least five more hours here while we built that train in the yard. It was a great relief to have escaped the onerous task of train building.
As we made our rapid retreat I heard the trainmaster once again shouting at the train dispatcher, "I can't move all those trains. They won't take the blasted things in Indianapolis." He added some colorful language to make his point. George the Tyrant, master of the trains, ran the show and wanted all of us lowly trainmen to know it.
We left the office and made a beeline to the van, which took us to the train. This train was just passing through, my favorite kind, a run-through. This was also my lazy conductor's favorite kind. As we approached the engine we could feel the vibration of the ground beneath our feet. It was a rhythmic movement, a familiar movement, a comforting feeling in a dark night. Lurch picked up my grip with his and lifted his long legs onto the platform. I was thankful for his help. My legs were half as long as his and my belly twice as wide. I could barely reach the first step without my grip. With thirty pounds of accessories in hand, well, I had been described as a troll heaving a bag of rocks up a four-foot ledge. As I pulled my body up, I thought that maybe I should have skipped the sub sandwich, but I would never let Lurch know.
I walked through all three engines making sure they were all online, all switches turned on, the engines ready to move, and hand-brakes released on each one. It looked like good power tonight. I loved the newer units, the wide bodies with that new-car smell, but I would never tell the guys, because it was manlier to complain. I returned to the seat and provided Lurch with three-step protection, speaking this phrase out on the radio. Three-step consists of: automatic brake fully applied, generator field breaker down, and independent brake fully applied. It protects the conductor from train movement while he walks back and releases hand-brakes on all cars that are tied down. Lurch removed the hand-brakes and called on the radio, "You can release my three-step, Fatboy."
I responded, "Three-step is released, and I'm pumping it up. Get your lazy butt back up here so we can head for home."
While awaiting his return, I did my air test. Sure glad the EOT (End-of-Train Device) was working. The EOT takes the place of cabooses and five-man crews. We no longer have enough men running a train for a good card game. I slowly wiped down the handles with Lysol wipes. I have learned it helps keep the flu season at bay. If we miss two days a month, we can be fired. It makes getting through flu season difficult. Everyone works, sick or not, which does not further our cause of staying healthy.
This engine had come from the West Coast. We would move it to the middle of the country, to Indianapolis, home for us. Another crew or two would shepherd it to the East Coast. As I pulled the throttle out, I saw the lights of the railyard begin to dim, and finally they were swallowed up by darkness.
I always love the rising whine of the engine as we increase our speed. After we reach our target speed of 60 miles per hour, we can relax for a while and enjoy the passing scenery.
Lurch rearranged himself in his chair. I could tell he wanted to talk. Sure enough, he started rambling on about his new honey, name of Kim. "She is tall, blonde, blueeyed, and loves me." He seemed to be quite smitten.
I asked, "What are your plans concerning Kim?" He responded, "Dinner and a movie." Then he laughed at his own joke.
I sat quietly, thinking he was not ready to discuss this subject yet.
After some time and several calls of "clear signal" (a conductor's mandatory signal calling), Lurch announced that he might ask Kim to live with him, since his work prohibited them from spending much time together. He continued, "She doesn't care for the late-night calls, the daylight sleep, and the 'I can't go to the mall. I'm one-time out' stuff. Lately, with being called out on my rest, I haven't been seeing her at all. If she lived with me, well, at least I could see her for an hour or so before sleep or before the next trip."
I heard his argument. I understood his argument. My own wife gets tired of an absentee husband. I haven't had a holiday off in fifteen years. We don't get weekends off. We don't get any scheduled time off other than vacations. I am on call morning, noon, and night. She hasn't been able to say, "Yes, my husband and I will attend," to any invitation in fifteen years, and this is hard for her. I've seen her cry just twice over my lack of schedule. Both times it made me momentarily hate my job.
I asked Lurch, "Do you love Kim?"
He just nodded in the affirmative.
"Do you think you will stay with the railroad?"
He responded, "Of course. Where else can I make this kind of money?"
"Well, then, Kim will have to get used to this lifestyle. Give her time. Living together, however, is not God's will. Getting married is God's will and His blessing to man. Do you believe this?"
"You're the chaplain of the union; I knew you would say this or something similar, and I don't agree. That's old-fashioned thinking."
"Well, as chaplain of the union, I have to speak up," I continued. "Do you know the definition of fornication? Would you make Kim a fornicator? Or do you love her enough to make her your wife? Think about this. Talk to her about what she can expect from your schedule or lack thereof. I would hate to see you go the way of Indiana ... four wives, five children with different mothers, multiple child support payments that he is still paying. He has torn apart four different families, his children, his wives, grandparents, aunts, uncles — all lives affected and all lives brought into suffering. All these lives in chaos. You've heard his complaints, his tirades. I bet all three of the states we run through have heard Indiana complain."
"That makes my point," Lurch said. "He married them all. He may have kept himself from some of the chaos had he just lived with them. Would have saved himself some money too."
"No, it would have just left five kids wondering who their father was and why he left, would have made four women and himself sinners against God and themselves — would have just left even more chaos and suffering in his wake. God makes rules to save us from ourselves to make life cleaner, better, simpler, to form godly men, women, and children, families ... society. Think about it, Lurch."
Lurch responded, "Approach signal ahead."
I repeated, obeying the rule, "Approach signal, I'm getting hold of this train." Approach signals indicate that an engineer should sit up and take notice. Miss one, and it may cost a life.
The night gave way to dawn, and home loomed on the horizon. We had passed Effingham. I gave Lurch half my sub with hope that he was still speaking to me and that I could lose a few pounds just for the effort.
Between bites I said, "Hope the main is open when we get there so we don't have to yard this beast." I heard Indiana's voice on the radio. He and his crew of one, the Mad Russian, were just starting out from St. Louis. They would be furious! I didn't blame them. They were just beginning their trip, eight hours after their call.
Lurch responded with a head nod. At least he was still awake.
Three hours later I saw the clear signal.
"We're going down the main, Lurch."
I kept the throttle off in idle as we headed down the main, ready for this trip to be behind us.
Upon arrival at our home base, Lurch grabbed his grip and headed for the yard office. I was left to wait for the outbound crew to take the train. While waiting, I packed my grip. When I saw the next crew, I made the big step to dismount the train. After nodding to several passing trainmen, I heaved my grip into my truck and headed home. This wasn't a bad trip, on duty eight hours and forty-three minutes. I wished they were all that fast. I called my wife and warned her of my approach.
"Hey Myrtle, you want to go out for breakfast and stop by that auction this morning?"
She responded, "Sure, how close are you?"
"I will be there in fifteen minutes, so get rid of your boyfriend. Ha-ha!" I laughed at my own joke.
"I'll be ready, and I'll kick Renaldo out the door," she responded.
"Don't toy with me, you saucy wench," I stated with my best Ricardo Montalban accent.
She responded, "What rerun is that line from?"
"The Dick Van Dyke Show."
"See you when you get here. Love you."
She loved auctions, and I loved breakfast. It was a winwin all around.
Two hours into the auction I felt ready to collapse. The auctioneer's voice was lulling me into a stupor. When my head started to bob, my wife asked, "Do you want to go home? There's nothing I can't live without today."
"Lead me home, Myrtle." I call her Myrtle. This is not her given name. Her given name is Debrah Sue formerly Cane, now Time. She has studied long and hard and now is officially Dr. Time.
She tells her students, "Call me Dr. Deb." We've been married for some thirty years, and we dated seven years before we married. We met when she was fifteen. According to her parents I robbed the cradle. We have two daughters. The younger is married, and much to everyone's surprise I love our son-in-law. I don't feel outnumbered by women when he is around. Our oldest is single and lives in Oklahoma. We do not see her as much as we would like to. We are now empty nesters, and my wife reminds me that this affects her much more than it affects me.
When we arrived home, she sent me off to bed and went on with her mysterious life. Or so I imagine. What does she do with all her time? I wondered as I nodded off.
I felt her shaking my arm. "Ben, Ben, wake up. It's the railroad calling."
I couldn't quite come out of it and shook my head like a wet dog, a groggy wet dog, and took the handset.
"Hello," I mumbled.
"Mr. Time, you have the W369 at 2100."
"Who is my conductor?" I asked.
The male voice responded, "Evans."
I heard the click and thought, Here we go again.
I hated this train, and so did all the others. We stop and pick up cars in Effingham, get pulled into sidings often to let the van trains pass by or any other old freight train that is out there. Then we put the power away in St. Louis. It generally takes all twelve hours and more. We call it the "Bone Crusher."
Still confused despite the shower, I left the house with several sandwiches of homemade meatloaf Myrtle had made in hopes we could have dinner together. But not tonight, not again. I wondered if Lurch would be speaking to me tonight. Maybe the half-sub made some inroad.
At the yard, I heard the normal complaints. Crews had waited hours at Cadillac Road, just outside the yard, and in Illinois there was a signal giving a false positive and turned from clear to stop without an approach signal. The final complaint was that Indiana came in threatening everyone in his path. He was still hot over his long delay.
Lurch deftly retrieved our paperwork, and we were off again. Seemed like we were never released from duty.
Our train left on time. A good start, once again in the black of night. For a long time we were silent, except for the normal obligatory railroad speak.
Eventually Lurch said, "The Mad Russian was Indiana's conductor. He told Old Joe that Indiana was ready to pummel George the Tyrant at the yard. The Mad Russian had to hold him back. He said he was sick and tired of George himself, but was getting more sick and tired of trying to keep Indiana cool. Said he would like to let Indiana go ahead and pummel George, but that he would get pulled out of service with Indiana if Indiana did his dirty work and pummeled George. The Russian said that he couldn't afford to get pulled out of service. It seems the guys are getting short on self-control."
I replied, "It's been this way before, too much work, too little rest, and egos that are too big. Someone will probably get pulled out of service. That decreases the number of available workers and increases stress from lack of rest. Tempers just get hotter. Not a good cycle. George pushes the wrong buttons and continues until he breaks someone. He has done it before. Right now it's Indiana's turn."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Murder and Misconception"
by .
Copyright © 2018 T.A. Huggins.
Excerpted by permission of Morgan James Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 Saint Louis, Nov. 6, 0130 EST,
CHAPTER 2 Saint Louis, Nov. 8, 1030 EST,
CHAPTER 3 Saint Louis, Nov. 8, 1800 EST,
CHAPTER 4 Indianapolis, Nov. 9, 1300 EST,
CHAPTER 5 Saint Louis, Nov. 10, 1200 EST,
CHAPTER 6 Indianapolis, Nov. 10, Returned at 0300 EST,
CHAPTER 7 Indianapolis, Nov. 11, 2100 EST,
CHAPTER 8 Saint Louis, Nov. 12, 1900 EST,
CHAPTER 9 Indianapolis, Nov. 13, Woke at 1800 EST,
CHAPTER 10 Indianapolis, Nov. 14, 1800 EST,
CHAPTER 11 Saint Louis, Nov. 15, Woke at 1600 EST,
CHAPTER 12 Saint Louis, Nov. 17, 1400 EST,
CHAPTER 13 Indianapolis, Nov. 18, 2300 EST,
CHAPTER 14 Saint Louis, Nov. 20, 0100 EST,