To be but a mere passenger...
Ethan wasn’t sure how long he had been driving, 2 hours maybe. He also couldn’t recall anything but the compulsion to climb into his truck and drive.
During that time the sky hadn’t changed much, seeming odd to Ethan - a perpetual sunrise, like time standing still.
The road beneath his wheels wasn’t paved - more like a track really. It was quiet, just a dust cloud drifting in his wake.
Then came the level crossing. Surely it was there all along, thought Ethan, because it couldn’t have just appeared...could it?
It was a fairly basic crossing, just concrete ramps and planks. Ethan was suddenly thankful that the ‘compulsion’ didn’t suggest he bring his Camaro SS - he wasn’t convinced it would have made the round trip complete.
As the silhouette of the crossing’s light post grew in his windshield, Ethan released the accelerator. Initially, he thought it was just a natural reaction to the obstacle, but he found himself applying the brakes too, until he came to a full stop just before the crossing.
Ethan stepped from the truck. As he walked towards the tracks, he scratched at his thinning blonde hair beneath his cap. The lights were not on and no obvious sign of a train coming. Why have I stopped? Ethan asked the empty plains, stretching away in the elongated dawn light.
As he looked back and forth along the empty single track, in the distance Ethan thought he heard a whistle. Not the harsh blast of a diesel horn, but the shrill whistle of a steam engine. Ethan was now downright baffled. Again came the noise, as if warning something to move out of the steel behemoth’s way. This time Ethan would have sworn he heard hissing and clanking, like old steamers sounded.
Looking again both ways, Ethan spied heat haze coming from one direction. Suddenly it made sense, a heritage railway testing an engine on empty track during low traffic. As he turned back towards his truck, the whistle blew again. Definitely getting closer, thought Ethan. Giving a cursory glance over his shoulder, he gasped - the shimmer did not bring forth a train; only the dusky sky beyond.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked again, convinced his mind was playing tricks. The sounds increased every second as the phantom steamer bore down on the crossing. Ethan followed the trajectory of the train, like he was staring at it, although it wasn’t actually there.
The closing cacophony was now partnered by the stench of burning coal. The crescendo reached a pinnacle as ‘it’ passed Ethan, rooted to the spot. He took an involuntary step backwards as a pressure wave went by, a pulsing noise emanating periodically, like a break between carriages.
As a very perplexed Ethan watched the ghostly haze disappear beyond the horizon, taking the dissipating sounds and smells with it, he felt a sense of relief. Like a flipped switch, everything was silent again.
Then, the compulsion took hold of Ethan and drew him back to his truck.
