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Twenty-four hours after leaving Collecting Center #55, the Company of the 'Men Apart'
were among mountains. Their train ambled on, climbing mostly, but, locked in the wagons,
the people had neither food, water, nor the opportunity to relieve themselves. Then,
abruptly, just before dawn on a level grade the train came to a halt with a squeal of
braking wheels on the locomotive and the five cars slamming against each other. The
door of the first car was thrown back and the locomotive engineer stood looking up at the
occupants. He was a small, worried looking man with a face the color of iron and ragged
clothes with many burn holes in them. 'Might as well get out, you fellas' he said. 'We'll be
here a whiles, I reckon. And I'm going need me some help' | The train had stopped in a narrow valley with a cliff on one side and a swift river below on the other. Beyond the locomotive the line was blocked by fallen rocks. 'Don't look too bad,' The engineer, consulted a large silver pocket watch. 'Shouldn't take too long with all these folks. So long as the track's O.K.' He kicked with disgust at a railroad tie. 'Lookee! Rotten that is! It's a miracle we got this far.' The Company were extremely happy to be released from their confinement as they were very thirsty and hungry. While many of them readily set about the task of removing the obstruction on the line still others set off at once into the surrounding lands to see what meat and other foods might be had there. These returned quickly: the lands about were completely empty of people and had an abundance of game of all sorts. Hardly had the sun peeked over the valley's rim before a large fire had been built down by the river and venison was being roasted. The engineer appeared dismayed by this turn of events. He paced up and down between the gang clearing the line and the locomotive, frequently consulting at his watch, anxiously watching the ravenous feast and declining food when it was offered. However, his mate, the stoker, seemed quite unconcerned with the delay. The stoker was a younger man with a wizened face much older than his years and even more ragged clothes than his boss. He came and sat by the fire and happily took some food. 'Cheerful lot, ain't yer?' he said to no one in particular and Ursus, next to whom he had sat, slapped him on the back. He said, 'You saved us from a crazy bunch of folk. It's great country this. A man could live well here and raise a family.' 'Ah!' said the stoker, without enthusiasm, 'maybe that's what they got in mind for yer, then.' There was a general expression of optimism at this which was not shared by the Sister. 'I'm not sure we haven't all made a terrible mistake,' she said unhappily. 'It doesn't look as if we're very near the War to me!' The stoker gave her a queer look. 'War. Is that where they said you was going, miss? I don't know about any War down these ways. Least I hope not.' He spat into the fire. The Sister flashed her eyes at Carl who just shrugged. Despite the painful bruises he had incurred as a result of his beating at the Collecting Center, Carl had slept quite contentedly through the night that had just passed dreaming about Vereen and ignoring the Sister's anxious mutterings. And, whatever he had done to encourage Pastor Bluemud, as he regarded his people sitting along the streamside it didn't seem to him that they could be doing that much wrong. As there was no sign of the Pastor, Carl expressed surprise to the stoker that he was not somewhere on the train. At first the stoker didn't understand to whom he was referring. When he finally did he cackled loudly and unnaturally. 'That Bluemud? In this old piece of shit? He's got his own transportation, him. He'll've been home last night, I reckon. Just getting up from his soft bed b'now.' He looked up towards engineer who was still anxiously pacing up by his machine. 'He ought to get him some of this good food. I ain't eaten this good in years. They got him worried, that's the truth. It's another twenty-five miles to Granite Gorge, that's all. Three, maybe four hours late, we'll be. Should've been gettin' there just about now. They expect yer to be on time, y'know.' It was about ten in the morning when the line was finally cleared and the train was ready to proceed. The engineer insisted on locking them back in the wagons and, as the train moved on even more slowly than before, having nothing else to do and feeling suddenly full of food and optimism most of the people slept. Then at last the train reached its destination and came to a final halt. Through cracks in the woodwork they saw a log cabin bearing a sign with the words 'GRANITE GORGE' in painted letters across its roof. Behind the cabin was a large empty yard and beyond that trees and steep hillsides topped with pink cliffs and crags. The engineer passed along the train opening up the car doors. His actions revealed other men wearing ordinary clothes but with bright a green arm-bands and carrying large clubs. These men were positioned in twos by the door of each wagon and, as the people in the cars attempted to climb down but they were roughly pushed back with cries of: 'Now, you people stay inside. Stay where you are. They'll be here soon and they'll expect you to be in your proper place.' No other violence was actually employed but the intention to do so was clear enough and, in any case, the people wishing only to conform to the wishes and customs of their new community and not desiring to be in the least disruptive, they stayed where they were. They waited in the cars for an hour before a siren blew. |
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