Chapter 13 - The Collision on the Line
The violent jolt threw Clara against the metal wall of the cabin, while Mark stumbled backward into the control console, gasping as the emergency brake indicators flashed a blinding crimson across the dash. Outside the front windshield, the night sky was suddenly illuminated by the harsh, sweeping headlights of a heavy rail maintenance engine that had been parked on the crossing switch directly ahead.
"They've blocked the line!" Mark shouted, throwing his weight against the manual braking valve with both hands.
The heavy freight engine screamed in protest, locked wheels throwing showers of white-hot sparks against the iron rails as it slid desperately along the damp track, closing the distance between them and the stationary barrier at terrifying speed. Toby began to cry, the sudden deceleration tossing him gently onto the cushioned floor seat where Clara quickly lunged to cover him with her body.
"Hold on!" Mark yelled, bracing his feet against the steel floorboards and hauling back on the emergency pneumatic brake with every ounce of his strength.
With a deafening screech of rending metal and splintering wood, the front plow of their locomotive slammed into the rear flatbed of the maintenance barrier, shoving it off the tracks and down the earthen embankment with a resounding crash. The impact threw Mark forward against the instrument panel, splitting his eyebrow and sending a thin trickle of blood down his cheek, but the momentum of their heavier engine overpowered the blockade, punching through the obstruction and clearing the track ahead.
The locomotive shuddered heavily once, twice, and then settled back into a steady, chugging rhythm as it crossed the county border line into open country.
Clara sat up, panting heavily, and immediately checked Toby. The toddler was frightened and shaking, but miraculously uninjured. She turned her attention to Mark, who was wiping the blood from his brow with the sleeve of his dark green cardigan, his breathing ragged.
"Are you okay?" she asked frantically, pressing her palm against the cut above his eye.
"I'm fine," Mark gasped, flashing a grim, triumphant grin. "We cleared the county line. Federal jurisdiction is officially locked out of local interference now."
He pointed through the windshield toward the distant skyline of Chicago, where the amber glow of the city lights pierced the southern horizon like a beacon of hope against the black expanse of Lake Michigan.
"We're thirty minutes out from the downtown terminal," Mark said, his voice steadying as he engaged the automated cruise control system on the locomotive. "Once we pull in, federal marshals assigned to the grand jury protective detail will be waiting on platform three."
Clara exhaled a long, shuddering breath that felt as though it had been trapped in her chest for three long years. She reached out, taking Mark’s hand in hers, their fingers intertwining naturally as if no time at all had passed since the rainy night he vanished.
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But as they approached the city limits, the emergency radio on the console suddenly flickered back to life, broadcasting a chilling, automated dispatch message.
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