Prelude, Circa 1989
The red Camaro rolled through the rural neighborhood and stopped at a nearby house. The driver honked his horn, as four teenagers bounded down the grass toward the car.
“How the hell are we gonna fit in there?” One boy asked.
“It’s called a lap, dumbass,” the driver replied, “besides, I’m sure you won’t mind Liz sitting on yours.”
The blonde girl behind him was chatting with her friend, so she didn’t hear the comment. The boys got in the back seat, with Liz and her friend atop each lap. The driver looked at the passenger and grinned.
“So we’re off.” The driver exclaimed as they tore down the neighborhood road.
As they rounded a curve to a line of trees, the driver noticed the cross arms down on the railroad crossing. These were new, since the lawsuit against the county due to the lack of notification of a railroad crossing severely injured a high schools student a year prior. The Camaro sat at the blinking red lights for a minute until the driver got out. He walked toward the tracks and looked east and west for any sign of a train. Since it was dark enough, the train would have the lights on, and it was light enough that one could see a train coming for miles. They were hard to hear, because of the long tree lines separating the community from the highway on the other side.
“Screw this,” the driver said. “Joel, Kevin, come help me out.” The driver walked back to the trunk of the car and pulled out a large screw driver and a crescent wrench.
The two boys stumbled out of the car to help their friend.
“This is bullshit.” The driver yelled. “They still don’t have this thing programmed properly, and I am not going to scratch my baby on these arms, trying to maneuver around them.”
He walked toward the closest arm with the crescent wrench. He loosened a bold and signaled to his friends to push up the cross arm. The arm wouldn’t budge at first, but then it moved. Once the momentum started it was easy to get it back up. The three walked over to the breaker box located on the side of the tracks. The driver jimmied it open, and one of the accompanying boys got on his knees to get a better view of the contents. They all ignored the “Danger High Voltage” sign on the box. The youngest of the three saw cables leading to an area that looked like it controlled the lights. He pulled one. The bells stopped. He yanked the others. The lights went off and the grinding motor told them the opposite cross arm was going up. Then there was silence. The three closed the door so it would stay, and got back in to the Camaro.
“You think anyone saw?” The taller boy asked.
“If they did, do you think they’d let us back in this car?” The driver asked indignantly. He put the car in gear and stepped on the gas. They were off for the night.
* * * *
“Jonathan! Are you out of the bathroom yet?” his mother yelled from the kitchen.
“Yeah, mom,” he yelled back, “I’m just fixin’ ta get my boots on.”
“Is your sister ready?” she inquired again.
A female voice yelled back this time. “Have you seen my bookbag?”
“It’s in here.”
A slight twelve year old girl walked into the kitchen, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail with a bow attached. She wore a yellow and black cheerleader outfit with white Keds. The mascot, Toreadors, was emblazoned on the front of her outfit. She found her bag and put three books and a notebook inside the bag.
“Did you get all the homework done?” her mother asked.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Jon even helped me with some of the algebra. He says that if I have Mrs. Krause next year I need to know my stuff.”
“It’s true,” a male voice announced as he rounded the corner. He wore dark blue wranglers and black Justin Ropers. His shirt was crisp and starched so it appeared to stand on its own. “She’ll crucify you if you don’t do exactly what you’re supposed to do to solve those problems.”
“Don’t scare your sister,” their mother replied. “Mrs. Krause is a great teacher, she sure helped you pass those classes, didn’t she.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jon replied.
“You guys had better get goin’. That bus doesn’t wait for anyone, as you well know.”
Jon wished he could take the car to work, but he wasn’t able to drive it, because it was the only way their mom had to get back and forth from town if she needed. So, he was a slave to the bus again this year. He had nearly enough saved up for the old beater truck his cousin was selling at a discount due to them being related, and Jon helping him fix it up. It would be the summer, but Jon could wait another couple of months.
The pair headed out the door toward the corner where the bus would stop. A group of students waited at the corner for the same bus to the high school and middle school in town. As the pair neared the group, the sister began to trot to a small group of girls, some wearing the same uniform she wore. They began chatting about the last pep rally of the year, and the excitement of being on the squad again.
Jon sauntered up to a couple of other boys and a girl chatting near a light post.
“Hey,” he said dryly.
“What’s up Jon?” one of the boys asked.
“Not much. Still pissed I couldn’t go with you guys last night.” He complained. “You know my mom and driving. It’s a pain in the ass, but if I’m gonna get Tim’s truck, I’ve gotta abide.”
The taller boy nodded. They gave Jon hell for not being able to drive whenever they went out, but he wasn’t going to press the matter.
“Did y’all at least have a crappy time?” Jon asked the other boy.
“Oh yeah, I was crushed beneath Liz’s fat ass.”
“Hey!” the girl exclaimed, as she punched him hard in the shoulder.
“Oh, you know I’m kidding.” The boy responded.
The diesel engine of the bus could be heard three blocks away. The group readied themselves to join the horde of students on their way to the schools. As the bus halted to a stop a red Camaro pulled in front of it.
The driver yelled out of the window, “Hey Joel, Liz, come on!”
The two that Jon was talking to walked over to the Camaro and got in. Jon gave a small wave and climbed into the bus. A small heat of jealousy rose to his face. He sat in the third row, so he could get off the bus as soon as it stopped at the high school. He watched his sister and her friends bounce toward the back of the bus. It was still cool for them to ride the bumps in the back.
As the bus pulled away it left a plume of sand and smoke in its wake. It rounded the curve through the neighborhood toward the highway. The bus stopped short of the railroad tracks for the standard few seconds. The kids never really understood why the bus always stopped at the tracks, even though there were lights and cross bars that showed whether a train was coming or not.
The bus driver accelerated toward the tracks and as he entered the intersection, he felt something wrong. He looked to his left and for a split second saw the locomotive of the train barrel toward him. There was nothing he could do.
* * * *
The sound of crunching metal shocked Mr. Jones out of his chair. He nearly spilled his cup of coffee on himself, but wasn’t concerned with that. He heard that sound the summer before, and when he got to the scene, it was worse than he could imagine. The rear of the bus was ripped from the rest of the mangled mass. Three girls in cheerleader uniforms were lying on the grass. He couldn’t tell if they were alive from the distance. He ran toward the three bodies. They seemed lifeless, but upon checking their pulses, he found they were all alive, although in bad shape.
He saw a car pull up the road, and yelled to the driver to get to the house and call 911. The car U-turned and sped toward the neighborhood. Mr Jones looked around for any other signs of life, but it was hard to see anything. The train was just coming to a stop, and he knew the rest of the bus had to be on the other side of the tracks, or dragged the mile down affixed to the locomotive.
He saw three figures running toward him in the grass. They went toward the three girls lying in the grass. Careful not to move them, each person covered the girls with a jacket or towel they happened to be carrying at the time. Mr. Jones got up and walked toward the road to see if there was a way for the ambulance to cross. No way. The train was a mile in each direction. No one was going to get through. As he turned to get back to the house with blankets, and whatever he could use he saw something strange. The box near the cross bars. The door was slightly open, and there was a dent in the metal.
“What the?” he said to himself. He walked closer, and saw it; wires hanging out of position. He looked up at the cross bars and lights, then down the tree rows. That’s what happened. No signal, no sight. They never saw it coming.
* * * *