The Run of the Red Rattler

Eugene woke from a stupor with a flurry of taps to his chest. A freckled face boy, no older than 13 was half resting on the back of a bench seat, facing Eugene. He was wearing a worn Demin jacket. A dark blue baseball cap, which had seen better days, donned his head.

"Hey Mister, you awake? You gotta’ get you ticket ready, Mr. Thompson is gonna’ be around soon to punch it!" The boy said in a frantic manner.

In a haze, Eugene observed his surroundings, familiar, but unexpected. It was the noise that tipped him off first as his sight was recovering. It was the distinct "rickety-rack" of a Pennsylvania Railroad commuter train, affectionately referred to by locals as “A Red Rattler”. The Tuscan red color, signature of the Standard Railroad of the world, adorned the leather seats. A dull white light over the aisle illuminated the car, which sported a cream ceiling. Outside it was pitch dark.

The boy stared intently at Eugene, waiting for a sign of life.

"I thought you were out mister, after you came stumbling on, I thought you might be having a heart attack or something; you were out cold in your seat once we left the Suburban Station." He spoke a quickly.

Sure enough, Eugene could not recall boarding onto the train. The last murky memories were of him slipping a dollar to the barkeep in a shady dive located within the "Chinese Wall". The wall was actually the elevated rail line that sliced through the city of Philadelphia and was considered a blight by its citizens.

"Young man, if I were you and had any decency, I would leave that vagrant alone, he can offer you no good at this hour of the night!"

The voice of an older woman came from Eugene’s left. It was a stuffy Mid-Atlantic accent, a hint of posh society. He looked over his shoulder to see a woman, aged 60 or so, clothed in fine green garments. Despite the elegance, her clothing could be seen as dated. She also wore a pearl necklace and a sun hat that matched her clothing.

It was obvious that she was a part of Philadelphia’s High society and lived on the Main Line. The name given to the string of affluent suburbs, where the well-to-do escaped the drudgery and heat of the city by train.

It was at that moment that something of more immediate concern came to Eugene’s recovering mind.

"Hey kid. Is this the local that stops at Haverford? I don’t know which line I’m on to be frank."

The boy’s face turned dower, "Gee. I’m real sorry mister, this is the express to Harrisburg, we are gonna’ fly right past there." His face then lit up, ready to sprinkle insight onto Eugene.

"But you can get off at Paoli! You can take the 12:13 local back home from there!"

Eugene groaned internally at this prospect of a long ride, and at the knowledge of how late at night it was.

"Well, that’s just my luck today. Hey kid, how did you know all that?" asked Eugene.

"Oh, well I love trains, all kinds, I memorized all the timetables the Pennsy’ publishes. And I love to ride them whenever I get a chance, it’s real good fun. I get to meet all kinds of people and see all different places. I usually get ticket books when I can…" The boy made a short pause, but enthusiastically continued.

"That reminds me, Mr. Thompson should be around to collect them soon. I haven’t seen him yet though; he should be on tonight to Harrisburg. I usually see him on train 600 when I go into the city. He is a good friend of mine."

"My goodness child, please, enunciate your words, you speak far too quickly," spoke the older woman.

"It’s quite alight miss," assured Eugene with a hand raised. He reached into his coat pocket for his wallet only to grasp at nothing. It was the toll paid for his night’s outing.

"Hey kid, I need to ask-"

"Oh," interrupted the boy, "my name is Charlie by the way!"

"Right, Charlie then." Eugene put out a hand, the boy shook it earnestly.

"Name's Eugene. Listen this Thompson fellow, how lenient is he with ticketless tramps? Seems I have misplaced my wallet," said Eugene.

"A drunkard and a pauper, does this travesty end?" quipped the woman.

"It’s ok! I have extras in my book! Let me just try and find your zone…". The boy quickly flipped through his book to find the appropriate ticket. Several pages were missing or torn from heavy use.

"You seem well traveled for a boy your age," inquired Eugene.

"I like to ride whenever I can, I enjoy riding at night too, its peaceful…it’s also nice to be away when my father comes home," Charlie muttered the last part under his breath.

Eugene felt awkward and could infer the boy had a rough father.

"Here you go!" Charlie had found the proper tickets. "This is good for your trip home!"

"Well, that is very kind of you, and I’m greatly appreciative of it. I wish I had something to give you for the tickets, but I don't have anything to spare," said Eugene.

The boy looked Eugene up and down, "Wow really? Even with that nice suit on, I would have never taken you to be penniless."

Eugene was wearing a light gray suit with a dull red tie. His suit was in a disheveled state.

He looked at the older woman through the corner of his eye, seeing if she was attentive. He then hinted to the boy to lean closer for a whisper.

"Listen, between you and me kid, I got the pink slip today," Eugene whispered.

Charlie’s face went dower, but he leaned in and whispered as well. "That’s ok mister! You can have it as a gift, I have tons of extras!"

Eugene was grateful for the gift. "Well, that is very kind of you son, once I get back on my feet, I will find a way to make it up to you. I just need to find another job first," he said.

"Hmmph, well I cannot imagine a man inebriated with drink can hold many vocations these days," snorted the old woman.

Eugene looked over with a smirk on his face.

"Seems the Dowager here has ears bigger than her bank account. Maybe you wouldn’t mind sparing some change for a man down on his luck? I could use a few bucks for this young man’s ticket sale." Eugene was not normally this smarmy, but he may still have had a little drink in him.

The woman looked forward, straightening herself out as she did in a huff.

"That’s all-terrible," said Charlie. "You really are having a string of rotten luck. I wish there was something I can do to help, maybe I can talk to Conductor Thompson; we talk about trains all the time when I’m on board. There might be a job on the railroad!"

"Thanks kid, you got a good heart. I don’t know if railroading is the life for me, and I even read in the paper they may be struggling since the war ended. It wouldn’t help anyway. I was a bookkeeper, but seems my boss, old man Reynolds, no longer saw a use for me. Cleaned the whole department out at 5pm today. I won’t be the only one looking for a position in my field." Eugene said with sadness as he vented to the boy.

He looked around the car a bit to change the subject.

"Your friend, Thompson, when is he coming around to collect? He better hurry or I may make a move for his job if he keeps slacking off," said Eugene.

The boy glanced off into the passing night. He saw the scattered lights of homes, which were the only sign of life outside the red car.

"You know," pondered Charlie. "He usually collects them right after Overbrook Station."

Charlie then looked out the window, a soft thump of air was heard as a large building was being passed. "And we just passed Ardmore! Maybe he is in the front car, let me go see if he is there!" said Charlie.

The boy jumped from his seat and headed to the forward car.

"Don’t hurry him, we may slip by without paying," chuckled Eugene.

He reflected on the fact that it was only himself and the older woman in the car.

"Ma’am, I’m sorry for the insults earlier, it was in the heat of the moment and not normally becoming of me. I do apologize for my actions," said Eugene apologetically.

The woman turned her head over to Eugene with a stern face.

"I accept your apology," she said maintaining her composure. "And I feel remorse for your current predicament, but I will add that nothing you said was untrue. Indeed, I am a widow…'dowager' as you say. My husband passed only but a year ago. And it is true that I have…big ears."

The woman continued. "When you ingratiate yourself with Main Line society, you must have an ear out there for the latest gossip and knowing's. In fact, your former employer, Archibald Reynolds. I am acquainted with that brute of a gentleman," she spoke scornfully.

"You know Mr. Reynolds?" asked Eugene.

"Indeed, we frequent the same clubs and church, not that I would say he is a man of God. Since the passing of my late husband, he has been hounding me to sell off our possessions in the city to him. He is a scoundrel of a man, only focused on profit and nothing more! I would not worry too much about your career misfortunes, I’m sure you were a victim of one of his many schemes."

"Well, I guess that is a relief, still doesn’t help keep bread on my table. Where is this property of yours? And forgive me for the rude introduction, it's Eugene Webster," said Eugene reaching over the aisle with an open hand.

The woman looked at his hand, then reached out to shake it, wearing a pair of fancy gloves.

"Meredith Cassatt," she responded. As she reached to clasp his hand the train shook, unusually violently.

"It is located at 7th and Locust. A printer business actually, my husband started it and devoted himself tirelessly to it," spoke Mrs. Cassatt tenderly. "I will not let that man have it, no matter his convictions."

"Small world. It’s one of Mr. Reynold’s firms I work-" Eugene paused. "Well, worked for, and it is located on that block."

"I suspect he owns many plots, but will not be satisfied until he owns all of the city," said Mrs. Cassatt.

The train again shook violently.

"Rough going tonight," quipped Eugene.

The Tuscan red door toward the front flew open, smacking against the adjoining bench. The boy ran in with his legs banging seats like a rag doll. He skidded over to Eugene in a fluster.

"Settle down Sonny, we are not trying to run the bases here," said Eugene.

"Mr.…’pant’...Mr.…’pant’ he’s not there, he’s not in the front car. No one is!" sputtered Charlie breathlessly.

"It is quite alright young man, I am normally the only one on this late train,” assured Mrs. Cassatt.

Eugene chimed in, “He could be in the back, right? Maybe he has paperwork or collecting other passengers’ tickets?”

Charlie’s face lit up, "This is a two-car train set, we are in the last car!"

Eugene looked over to the woman with a concerned look. He then looked at Charlie with fake assurance.

"Well, why don’t I go up and check, maybe he is hiding in the broom closet," he joked.

Eugene attempted to stand up but lost his footing as the car swerved.

"Are you alright Mr. Webster?" asked Mrs. Cassatt.

"I wish I could say that fall was from drinking to much, but I think something else is up," said Eugene worryingly.

It was now very apparent that the train was speeding and was rounding curves violently.

"C’mon kid." Eugene walked to the forward vestibule, gripping the corners of each bench seat to maintain balance. Once at the door, he immediately caught a glimpse of the forward car through the door window. It was the same model of the one he was currently in, but devoid of life.

Eugene then opened the door to enter the vestibule. The wind howled and wheels shrieked as he crossed over into leading car. The occasional flash of energy from the overhead wires lit up the immediate area with a crack.

The shaking was getting worse, and Eugene held firmly to the walls of the vestibule to enter the first car. The boy followed close behind. He said something to Eugene, but his voice was drowned out by the speeding train. Once Eugene was able to push open the rear door to the first car, he held the door to let the boy in.

True to Charlie’s word, there was no one in the car.

"See what I told you, he isn’t here!" said Charlie.

"This is strange, kid," Eugene responded worriedly. "Let’s see what the driver knows about this."

Eugene proceeded to the front of the car, maintaining his hold on the bench seating, although it was more difficult than before. He made his way to the door of the front vestibule, where the motorman operated the train. Peering into the window, he was shocked to see no one there. He then opened the door in a hurry, his fear was confirmed. No one was operating the train.

What was left of Eugene’s stupor instantly perspired from his body, and clarity took over.

"Looks like I just found a new job kid, there is no driver. You know how to stop one of these?" asked Eugene.

Charlie pondered for a moment. "The emergency breaks! It should be a red button or lever; I can check on the walls as well, there is usually one that is easy to reach!"

The boy ran to the back of the coach, stumbling as the train rocked. Eugene observed the levers and buttons of the cab. While a layman to trains, it was obvious that the levers had been broken off, and that portions of the cab were smashed in. Buttons were removed from their sockets. Eugene stepped further into the small cab space.

Looking for any sign of an emergency pull or lever, he frantically searched all around for something that may help. A violent sway came over the train, and Eugene’s foot slide into an object, which banged against the door to the outside. He looked down to see that it was a crowbar device he was unfamiliar with, possibly a railroading tool.

Eugene suspected this was an act of sabotage. He heard the cab door open. The boy and the old woman entered in a fuss.

"All the emergency breaks are gone; the levers are missing!" exclaimed Charlie.

Eugene remarked on his situation, "No better luck up here, someone’s tampered with the controls!"

"I am no expert, but I do not believe this is a way to run a railroad," remarked Mrs. Cassatt.

Eugene lowered himself to Charlies’ face.

"Kid, you know a lot about trains, is there any other way to stop this thing?" asked Eugene.

Charlie thought for a moment, "The handbrakes! It’s a large steel wheel. We can turn it to set the brakes!"

He pointed to the wheel in the front of the cab. "Try that one, I’ll go to the others in the back." Charlie stumbled his way back to the car.

Eugene went back into the cab. He noted the steel wheel attached to the cab and grabbed hold. He tried to move the wheel in either direction. It spun effortlessly. There seemed to be no friction at all. The train only continued to pick up speed.

"This isn’t looking good; the breaks look cut," exclaimed Eugene.

The boy had returned and ran around Mrs. Cassatt. "The rear hand break is missing!" Charlie yelled.

He looked ahead out of the owl port windows of the front of the coach. The train flew under an iron truss bridge.

"That was the Witford bridge!" cried Charlie.

"Is that good or bad?" asked Mrs. Cassatt.

"Bad!" He answered. "The Atglen curve is 15 miles down the track! If we don’t slow down, we will go flying off at this speed!"

Eugene and Mrs. Cassatt grimaced at this thought.

"Well, any ideas?" Asked Eugene. He looked to the woman and the boy, both with fear in their eyes.

"If we are lucky, maybe we will run out of fuel," he chortled with gallows humor.

"These are MP54 units, they don’t run on fuel, they are powered by electric wires-That’s it! The pantographs!" Charlie’s eyes lit up.

"The pant what?" questioned Mrs. Cassatt.

"The pantographs," explained Charlie. "They touch the overhead wires and send electricity to the motors to power the train. If the pantographs are no longer touching the wires, the train won’t be powered! Let’s check for the switch to lower them."

"The controls are bust kid," responded Eugene.

Mrs. Cassatt spoke, "What if we lowered them manually, would that work young man?"

The boy thought to himself. "It’s possible to pull them down and lock them, but it would be dangerous, they are on the roof."

Eugene rolled up his sleeves. "I think we are out of options," he said.

"Wait!" shouted Charlie, "you can’t touch the pantographs with your bare hands, you could get electrocuted!"

Mrs. Cassatt then handed Eugene the pair of fancy gloves she was wearing. "The young man is right; you might want to wear these."

"And what good is a pair of lavish gloves going to be?" snarked Eugene.

Mrs. Cassatt answered confidently, "They are water protective, lined with rubber, I bought them at Neiman Marcus at quite an expense. I assure you they will protect you."

Eugene attempted to squeeze his hands into the gloves, while they were tight, they did somewhat fit.

"Alright, how do I get to the roof? Is there a sky window or…or…a hatch or something," said Eugene.

The boy looked concerned. "There is no hatch, you would have to climb up the side ladders…"

Eugene looked at each of his compatriots, then gave a long sigh.

"I think the liquor has worn off because this does sound like a stupid idea. Where is the ladder?" he said.

Charlie led Eugene to the rear of the car, at the vestibule. They both bounced back forth as the car continued to sway.

They walked on top the steel plates connecting the trains. While the space was small between the cars, indeed there was a steel ladder leading up to the top.

"Alright, I’m going for it," said Eugene to Charlie. He had to speak loudly as the noise of the speeding train grew louder.

"Stay low to the roof, you don’t want to touch the wires. I will follow you!" yelled Charlie.

"It’s too dangerous kid, you stay here!" Eugene responded.

Eugene grabbed hold of the horizontal railing, and attempted the climb; the train was continuing to shake violently. He slowly made his way up the ladder, eventually reaching the roof and peered over.

At first, he could barely see the pantograph, let alone the overhead wires.

However, a sharp flash of light beamed in front of him. It was the pantograph, maintaining on and off contact with the overhead powered wire, energy arching between them.

Eugene looked down toward the vestibule platform. The boy was waiting on the ladder, and Mrs. Cassatt had joined him, bracing herself against the car.

"What are you doing kid!?" He yelled down.

"I’m going to try and help; you need to stay low. Try to crawl!" yelled Charlie.

Eugene faced back toward the roof, ignoring the boy. Time was too precious. He flopped his top half onto the roof, his legs still on the ladder. Through the violent shaking he swung one leg onto the roof, then through great stress the other. He stopped to catch his breath.

While lying flat on the roof, Eugene thought it was rather funny. While the car shook side to side, he could see the lights of homes and the sprawling farms of Lancaster County. The occasional arc from the wire lit his little spot on the top of the car.

Surprisingly, he was not afraid, more so amazed at the unique view. However, reality came to him when a loud whoosh of air came over him, and the pantograph lowered itself with the wire. They had gone under a signal bridge.

The danger of this operation had snapped Eugene back to reality. While seeing the pantograph bouncing up and down was frightening, it also gave him comfort, knowing that it would be possible to move.

Eugene then proceeded to slowly crawl, inching his way on top of the clerestory, the upper part of the coach's roof.

"You’re almost there!" The boy yelled from behind him, although it was barely audible. He had climbed up the ladder and was on the top rung.

"Get down kid, this is dangerous up here!" Eugene yelled, but it was little use as the wind drowned his voice away.

The train then shook violently with a large clack over the rails. Eugene’s legs slid off the roof, but the boy held him.

He yelled "Thanks!" as best he could to Charlie and crawled back onto the roof.

With renewed vigor, Eugene approached the pantograph. It was a tall, metallic contraption, similar to the legs of an ironing board, that folded up and down slightly to accommodate the height of the wire. Like a baby, he crawled to the base of the device. Flashes of lights and arcs of energy from the wire lit up the top of the train. With each arc there was a snap, displaying the pantograph in a bright blue light. The arcs and their snaps felt like lighting before thunder, only much closer.

Reaching into his pocket, Eugene pulled out the woman’s rubber insole gloves and slowly tried to pull them over his hands. Sweat coated his hands, making the task impossible. He could no longer fit the gloves over his hands.

In desperation, he decided to clutch onto one glove in his right hand to grab onto the pantograph. He latched onto the pantograph with the glove shielding his hand, like a cook using a dry towel to pull a hot tray from an oven.

Eugene used his other hand to hold onto the lip of the roof and pulled down on the pantograph. While the glove thankfully insulated him from electrocution, the size of the mechanical device was too much. It was going to require considerably more strength.

Holding the glove down to insulate his hands, Eugene attempted again to pull down the pantograph. However, the train jolted on the track, Eugene slid partially off the roof, only barely able to hold on to the pantograph. The train continued to roar down the track, the wind slashing at Eugene’s face. Using what strength he had, he pulled his way back onto the roof.

Eugene looked back to see Charlie; who had now climbed completely onto the roof and was shouting something to Eugene, but it was impossible to hear him over the roar of the train. Seeing the desperate look on the boy, Eugene took a risk. He slowly brought his legs under him, in a crouched position, resting on his knees.

He brought out the second glove and clutched it tightly, now using both gloves to hold the pantograph. Hunched over, he pushed hard down on the pantograph, the wire dangerously close to his face. The pantograph was resistant, pushing hard against Eugene who was lacking leverage to use his full weight.

Slowly though, he was winning the fight, even with the howling wind and shaking frame of the car. Finally, Charlie pushed down of Eugene's arms, which was enough strength to push the pantograph down. It locked onto the car frame. The hum of the motors died. The train was now silent but for the wind and clickity clack of the tracks. Now it was up to gravity to save them.

"It’s working, I think we are slowing down!" cried Charlie. He was now audible since the motors were cut off.

Fortune was finally with the passengers, as the railroad grade had a slight incline, and the coach began to slow. It was at this point that Eugene and Charlie noticed the red and blue flashing of police vehicles on a parallel road.

The vehicles pulled off the road well ahead of the slowing train. Several men had ran from the cars and waited at the side of the tracks with tools in hands.

The men placed a device on the track. The train crept up to this device and with a loud jolt slammed to a halt. Fortunately, Eugene and the boy had been inside the coach and were no longer on the roof.

Employees from the railroad jumped on board, evident by the Red Keystone lapels they donned on their overalls.

"Are you all alright, is anyone hurt?" said one the employees.

"Well sir I must say," quipped Mrs. Cassatt. "Of all my years as a patron of the Pennsylvania Railroad, I have never seen a train requiring passengers to stop it."

The employee chuckled, "Ma’am, you and these two gentlemen would make a fine crew."

Eugene, Mrs. Cassatt and Charlie finally stepped off the train. Several employees, including a nurse, and police officers came forward. One of these employees was instantly recognizable to Charlie. However, he was being escorted by an officer.

"Mr. Thompson! What happened! We were looking for you!" asked Charlie.

The old conductor sobbed, "Thank God, Charlie you are ok! I am terribly sorry for this whole thing; I never meant to put you in danger, this is all my fault! I will answer for all my crimes!"

"Crimes?" questioned Eugene.

The escorting officer spoked, "Mr. Thompson claims he was put up to sabotage this train and have it run unmanned. He claims it was part of an effort to end Mrs. Cassatt’s life. At least that’s what he confessed to when he called us."

"Heaven forbid, you wished me to die sir? I have been a loyal patron, I believe I have seen you on this very train many nights," said Mrs. Cassatt aghast.

"Mrs. I am terribly sorry. They were threatening layoffs at the railroad and the loss of my pension. I have a family. Archibald Reynolds offered to me a small fortune in exchange for sabotaging the train," Mr. Thompson cried.

He continued, "I would have gone through with it, but when I saw Charlie had boarded when the runaway left Suburban Station, I knew it would be wrong to have harmed an innocent boy. There was not supposed to be any other passengers."

"Guess no lost love for me," Eugene quipped.

"I am sorry as well sir to you, I didn’t see you board," Mr. Thompson continued. "Mrs. Cassatt, I don’t expect any forgiveness-"

"I don’t intend to give any, you tried to have me killed," she interrupted.

"I understand, I am more than willing to confess to these crimes and Mr. Reynolds’ plot in the court of law," said Mr. Thompson feverishly.

The police officer looked toward Mrs. Cassatt, notepad in hand. "Would you know why Mr. Reynolds would want you dead ma’am?" the officer asked.

"I suspect to buy out my husband’s properties, I have no heirs. If I die, they would be put to public auction, that man is shrewd. He always was hounding me to sell, but to come to this, unthinkable," she explained.

Eugene added his insight. "That explains too why my department was let go. He wanted to shutter the business and buy your property up as well. Probably was going to clear the whole block for a development scheme!"

After some further inquiries and checking the health of the beleaguered passengers, additional police vehicles had arrived to take them home.

Mrs. Cassatt walked up to her companions. "Well Mr. Webster, your bravery was exemplary, and I apologize for all the wrong statements I have said about your character. If you are still in need of work, some friends of mine will be reaching out soon."

"Well thank you ma’am, that means a lot to me," Eugene said bashfully.

"And for you, young man," she looked Charlie. "Do not let up on that mind of yours. Your quick thinking and actions saved our lives, I have discussed with the railroad management, and you are to be given a rail pass for life as a reward for your heroism."

"Wow that is amazing! I can ride any train I want?" asked Charlie.

"Any."

A police cruiser pulled up. A middle-aged couple walked out of the car. The man looked disheveled and in a fit of rage.

"There’s that boy!" The man angrily walked up to Charlie and grabbed his jacket. "Boy, where have you been all this night, you have your mom worried sick!" The mother only looked down in sadness and fear. "What have I told you about riding trains late at night? When you get home, you’re getting a walloping!"

The situation was becoming awkward for all. Charlie’s face drooped with sadness, "Yes sir…"

Charlie’s father continued to sputter, "Do you know how late it is? What is with you and trains? I missed my card game at the Tavern and-"

Eugene interrupted the tirade, "Excuse me sir, I think you are being unfair to the young man. If it wasn’t for young Charlie’s passion for trains, his quick thinking and strength in stopping the train...well, I think Mrs. Cassatt and I would most likely be mangled in a hunk of scrap. It was a miracle that he was on this late at night. He saved our lives, and you should be proud of your son."

The father’s rage began to settle, and was slowing realizing the awkwardness of the situation, regaining some social awareness.

"Well, we uh- we did raise him right then. I guess that obsession of his came to something. Well, let’s go Charlie, its late," the father muttered.

The couple walked back to the police cruiser.

"Hey Charlie, hold on," said Eugene. He pulled the boy to the side.

"Thank you for your help, I couldn't have stopped this Rattler without you. You helped pulled off a helluva’ rescue. You’re a hero," Eugene assured. "Don’t listen to your old man, you keep doing what you’re doing."

Charlie’s grin beamed ear to ear. "Thank you, sir. That was the ride of a lifetime!" Eugene put his hand out, and Charlie shook it firmly, as if they were old comrades. Charlie then ran to the cruiser with his parents, waved to his fellow passengers, and drove off.

"Expect some calls in the morning, Mr. Webster," said Mrs. Cassatt as she climbed into a cruiser. "And try to avoid any of the press. They will jump at the chance to write about any Main Line scandal such as this!"

After Mrs. Cassatt’s car drove off, Eugene was escorted to a police cruiser, awaiting to take him home. As the car drove to Haverford, he fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from the night’s ordeal.