could be a bunch more hours. Especially considering he’d slept twice his normal amount in the last day or so. He’d have to find some way to bide his time, which he had a feeling would become a recurring challenge.
“You could take up in that gondola over yonder.” He pointed to the half-car Leroy had first taken cover behind. “I’ll shoot you a toot when we’re leaving. There’s a boxcar at the back of the train that don’t always close, if you catch my drift, but wait for my whistle to get in. And keep an eye out for the Bull.”
Leroy was overwhelmed by and thoroughly grateful for the kindness of this man. He was also pretty sure there wasn’t a real bull in the train yard, but he was too embarrassed to ask the driver what he meant.
He must’ve read it on Leroy’s face, or felt it required elucidating. “The Bull is the yard cop, and I do mean an officer of the law, so watch out.”
“Appreciate it, sir.”
The engineer tipped his hat to Leroy, a social cue he’d never seen in real life, and marched toward the back of the train, hands clasped at his back.
Leroy watched the man until he vanished from sight, then walked over to the gondola, as it was apparently called. He grasped the rim of the car, peering down into the metallic cavity. He half expected to see Adalynne laying at the bottom, neck stretched, facial features bulging. She wasn’t, of course. Pulling his hands away from the train, he found them covered in a dark grease, then scanned the yard for somewhere else to hide. He wiped his hands on his shorts, hoping his ride out wouldn’t be quite so grungy.
* * *
With the nearby tower unmanned and his train at the furthest point from the station, Leroy felt relatively safe staying out in the open. There was too much to discover for him to sit and hide.
The floodlit yard enabled him to see far enough to spot crew members, and despite his rampant interest in his surroundings, he kept a close eye out for the Bull like the engineer had warned. He amused himself by imagining a minotaur in a police uniform, huffing and stomping his hooves. He’d have to sketch that when he got a chance. Despite feeling particularly inspired from the graffiti earlier, he needed to learn his way around a train yard, and so, set out to educate himself.
After draining his shoes of sand, Leroy spent a long time walking the various lengths of train, studying the differences between the cars, deducing the function of each model, divining the ideal spots to ride. He’d never realized how truly massive trains were. Each car was like a giant metal tank repurposed for peaceful use. He marveled at them.
Not long after the engineer left, he returned with a crew of ten or so workers. Leroy observed them from afar, seated against a wheel of a boxcar, which apparently was highly unsafe, as he’d learned in an earful from a boisterous woman stouter than most of the men. Intimidated by her, he scooted forward into the ballast beside the idle train.
Occasionally, a thunderous boom from elsewhere in the yard would startle him, always managing to catch him unaware. None of the workers reacted to the noises, so Leroy figured it couldn’t be anything going wrong. Soon, a crash particularly near to him revealed the source of the tumult—train cars coupling together. After, he hardly noticed the periodic uproar.
He watched pallets piled high and huge containers carrying mystery contents forklifted into boxcars. At the base of each car, a man knelt down to inspect the wheels, clanging each of them with a steel rod, before grunting to another who followed with a clipboard. The large woman from earlier proceeded them, inspecting the couplings and the air hoses between the cars, yelling “Good!” to the clipboard man as she went. The engineer stood idly toward the back of the train chatting with a few of the workers.
Further down the yard, Leroy could see grain and minerals pouring into other cars from vast vertical silos,
“You could take up in that gondola over yonder.” He pointed to the half-car Leroy had first taken cover behind. “I’ll shoot you a toot when we’re leaving. There’s a boxcar at the back of the train that don’t always close, if you catch my drift, but wait for my whistle to get in. And keep an eye out for the Bull.”
Leroy was overwhelmed by and thoroughly grateful for the kindness of this man. He was also pretty sure there wasn’t a real bull in the train yard, but he was too embarrassed to ask the driver what he meant.
He must’ve read it on Leroy’s face, or felt it required elucidating. “The Bull is the yard cop, and I do mean an officer of the law, so watch out.”
“Appreciate it, sir.”
The engineer tipped his hat to Leroy, a social cue he’d never seen in real life, and marched toward the back of the train, hands clasped at his back.
Leroy watched the man until he vanished from sight, then walked over to the gondola, as it was apparently called. He grasped the rim of the car, peering down into the metallic cavity. He half expected to see Adalynne laying at the bottom, neck stretched, facial features bulging. She wasn’t, of course. Pulling his hands away from the train, he found them covered in a dark grease, then scanned the yard for somewhere else to hide. He wiped his hands on his shorts, hoping his ride out wouldn’t be quite so grungy.
* * *
With the nearby tower unmanned and his train at the furthest point from the station, Leroy felt relatively safe staying out in the open. There was too much to discover for him to sit and hide.
The floodlit yard enabled him to see far enough to spot crew members, and despite his rampant interest in his surroundings, he kept a close eye out for the Bull like the engineer had warned. He amused himself by imagining a minotaur in a police uniform, huffing and stomping his hooves. He’d have to sketch that when he got a chance. Despite feeling particularly inspired from the graffiti earlier, he needed to learn his way around a train yard, and so, set out to educate himself.
After draining his shoes of sand, Leroy spent a long time walking the various lengths of train, studying the differences between the cars, deducing the function of each model, divining the ideal spots to ride. He’d never realized how truly massive trains were. Each car was like a giant metal tank repurposed for peaceful use. He marveled at them.
Not long after the engineer left, he returned with a crew of ten or so workers. Leroy observed them from afar, seated against a wheel of a boxcar, which apparently was highly unsafe, as he’d learned in an earful from a boisterous woman stouter than most of the men. Intimidated by her, he scooted forward into the ballast beside the idle train.
Occasionally, a thunderous boom from elsewhere in the yard would startle him, always managing to catch him unaware. None of the workers reacted to the noises, so Leroy figured it couldn’t be anything going wrong. Soon, a crash particularly near to him revealed the source of the tumult—train cars coupling together. After, he hardly noticed the periodic uproar.
He watched pallets piled high and huge containers carrying mystery contents forklifted into boxcars. At the base of each car, a man knelt down to inspect the wheels, clanging each of them with a steel rod, before grunting to another who followed with a clipboard. The large woman from earlier proceeded them, inspecting the couplings and the air hoses between the cars, yelling “Good!” to the clipboard man as she went. The engineer stood idly toward the back of the train chatting with a few of the workers.
Further down the yard, Leroy could see grain and minerals pouring into other cars from vast vertical silos,
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