Tyler Hillis

Trees flew by at incredible speed. Those nearest pulsed as the buffeting air hit them, knocking the fresh snow from their branches. Looking back, I could see a cloud of snow dust in our wake, twinkling as the morning sun hit the frozen crystals. It reminded me of a scene from a movie – something to do with sugar in an alleyway. I couldn’t quite place it, but even the vague shape of the scene induced me to smile.

The diesel locomotive strained up the steep track. It cut through the Cascade Mountains. Behind, we pulled a mile of freight, bound for the Port of Tacoma, and from there, out into the Pacific.

But first it needed to get over this mountain range.

Jackson Polk sat behind the controls and kept a watchful eye up ahead. He was a good engineer. Knew the routes, stayed engaged. Crossed his i’s and dotted his t’s, so to speak. The biggest risk he ever took was asking me to fill his seat with my hand over the alerter while he drained the main vein.

We both kept a close eye on the pressure gauges in front of us. Everything was in nominal range, but we both knew how quick things could change during a hard climb.

For a moment, my attention was pulled out the side window of the cab. I stared at a jagged peak of a nearby mountain. I wasn’t sure which one it was – the Cascades were wide, stretching from our cheerful neighbors to the north, down to the strange folk in the south that inhabited the desolate land known as Oregon. A glint of light had caught my eye on the mountaintop. It was like one of those scenes in a baseball movie where the rival team uses a piece of mirror to reflect light into the pitcher’s eye. Only, out here, there shouldn’t be anyone else. It was mid-January and we were just on the other side of a week’s worth of snowfall. Even the craziest adventurer would be foolish to go climbing at this time of year.

But still…there had been a glint. Something foreign to the nature all around it.

Jackson eased on the throttle lever as the center mass of our land snake crested over the hill and the weight leaned forward. From this point on, it was a near-constant downhill ride that we allowed gravity to do its thing on, braking only to keep things steady around the corners. It was like a big rollercoaster with Nikes and fertilizer instead of screaming passengers.

Without finding the glint again, I turned away from the window and looked down at the terminal. I logged our progress, noting the time and gauge status, then looked out the window again.

There it was. The glint shined bright from the white-walled mountainside. I slid the cab window open, still staring, to make sure the glass hadn’t caught the light in an odd way. But no, this time the glint remained. It pulsed and flicked, and I imagined a person up there, frantically waving something metallic in our direction.

“You see that, Jacks?” I yelled over the rushing wind from my open window.

“What in the hells are you opening the window for, Freddy?”

I looked back and Jackson remained looking forward at the oncoming track. I nudged his shoulder with my hand, and when he looked, I pointed up to the peak.

“Just there. I saw a glint of something. I think someone is up here,” I yelled back into the cab.

“Now why in the hells would someone be up there this time of year?” Jackson asked. He leaned over and squinted through my open window.

“Maybe a plane crash?” I said. I imagined one of those movies where the only remaining survivors of a mountainside plane crash eventually resort to eating one another.

“Should we call it in?” Jackson said, still looking out the window.

“I think so,” I said, turning forward and reaching for the radio on the dashboard. As I did, my eyes wandered up and out the front window, to the tracks ahead. I barely had time to register the person standing there, eyes wide, opening their mouth to scream. “Fuc–“

The train rattled and shook. A cloud of red mist emerged from below and coated the front window in a thin film. It tinted the entire forest a sick, bloody hue.

Jackson pulled on the brake lever, his hands shaking.

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