Turning Around

It was one of those sweltering hot days in the middle of July where everything was perfect and nothing could go wrong. Zach was at the park with his wife and daughter, and they were just brilliant. Beautiful Sarah in her flowing summer dress, their little Cassie laughing and giggling, playing and letting loose those shrieks of joy only a child is capable of. Innocent, before life gets to them.

He took a long swig from his bottle and returned it to its idling place by his left trouser pocket, brown paper bag crinkling under his grasp.

Zach watched them playing and grinned. Sarah met his eyes for a moment and flashed that perfect white smile that almost hid the one crooked tooth she had. But her eyes were sad? She pushed Cassie again on the swing, and everything was perfect.

He felt his hand tighten around the brown paper bag and his smile faded. Why was he holding this here? This wasn’t right? He smelt the hot whiskey breath from his own throat and suddenly the park was grey. It wasn’t July? He felt a panic stammering up quickly in his chest as he took another deep, sinful drink even though he didn’t want to, even though Sarah and Cassie were right there to see it, the fire roaring within and growing hotter. But his wife and daughter were gone. Where were they? They had just been there with him?

No, something was wrong.

The radio at his shoulder strap crackled angry static, but he could barely make out the words.

“Come in operator, come in, I repeat!”

No, no, no, he didn’t want to hear it. He was just so tired.

He raised his hand again but when he took a swig sand came out of the bottle and he heaved, sputtering on what tasted like hot ashes, coughing, his eyes stinging-

Zach woke with a start and his head throbbed unbearably.

He cracked open dry, bloodshot eyes and was met with thick black smoke and the smell of hotly burning brakes and grease.

His mind was blank. He became aware of pounding at a door. He hauled himself out of the seat he had been slumped over in, his body not wanting to cooperate, and tried to make sense of the blaring alarm sounds. He closed the driver window to block the smell and the smoke as the voice reappeared from his shoulder and he felt for the radio receiver.

“COME IN operator, I repeat COME IN.”

Zach tried to understand it but his brain was still too fuzzy. How did he get here? He looked at the landscape whizzing past his window and then it started to make a small amount of sense. He was on a train. Like a cold, heavy stone sinking in his stomach. Of course he was on a train.

He was the operator.

Panic swelled in his chest and surged into his mind as his heart pounded frantically to catch up with it.

No, not like this. Not this now. Please.

The searing hot shame. The incomprehensible guilt that was deeper than a black hole. He wiped the grimy sweat from his brow and forced himself to orient and concentrate.

He was the train operator. It was still a mystery how he had gotten here. He didn’t even know what route he was on, what day it was, what type of train he was running. He looked at the controls and took stock of the situation. It wasn’t good. How long had it been this way?

He pressed the button on his receiver.

“This is operator.”

He felt dizzy, like he was barely managing to stay afloat in his own body.

“Operator, what the —— going on?”

Zach didn’t know.

“I-“ he faltered.

The hangover was like a thick, murky cloud, and he was drowning in it.

He became aware of a helicopter following the train. He forced himself to focus as some adrenaline kickstarted his fried nervous system. Reading the console he held the button down on his radio.

“We’ve had catastrophic break failure. Cause unknown. There is also significant damage to the engine - it’s stuck on acceleration, please advise.”

He had done this.

He saw Cassie and Sarah in his mind again.

He had done this.

And now people were in danger because of him.

“Copy. Reviewing options, PLEASE stay on the line.” The response crackled. Then, after a moment, “Operator, are you OK?”

Zach fought back sudden surprising tears that stung like stale old grief. He hadn't been asked this question in a long time.

“I’m OK. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Please hold, over.”

Several moments later the dispatch returned.

“Come in operator. Diagnostic shows severe damage to the brake system. Train was accelerating downhill as the emergency brake was being applied, and it ground them down to the wire. There’s subsequent damage to the wheels now, and it will affect the track. You’re going to start feeling it soon and it’s not going to get better.”

Zach was dumbfounded. How?

“It looks like the engine somehow tripped into an acceleration loop. You need to find a way to cut or decrease power to the engine. Your electrical is probably partially fried. We’re working on clearing the tracks ahead of you but you need to try to buy us some time. Next station is approaching fast. One hundred miles, and you’ll be there in roughly thirty minutes at this speed. Do you copy?”

Zach nodded numbly, then fumbled for his radio. The train was going two hundred miles per hour. That was almost one hundred miles over its normal operating parameters.

“Understood, copy. I’ll do what I can. Keep me posted.”

“Copy that, over.” The dispatch crackled.

The emergency breaks were shot. How this had happened, he didn’t know. It shouldn’t have been possible. Just like how he’d gotten here. He’d obviously blacked out. But the day before work? How? He was a vile piece of trash but he wasn’t that stupid. What day was it? How was he on this route? What had happened?

He slapped himself in the face to refocus. People’s lives were at risk. There were several contingencies for a runaway train, but time was running out, and this was not a normal scenario.

This was the worst case scenario.

He decided to face the pounding at the door which had become erratic, resuming only occasionally in shorter bursts.

The assistant was panicked like a frightened animal when he opened the door.

“What is going on? What happened?!” she shouted. The car behind her was empty. Thank God. He felt flustered and self-conscious.

“I don’t know. I blacked out.” He glanced at her name tag. Dominika. She wasn't one of his regular co-workers.

“The warning signal flashed as we headed downhill and smoke started coming from the engine. I pulled the emergency break but it didn’t work. Not fully at least.”

Zach was still in denial. How could two redundant systems fail simultaneously?

“How long ago was this?”

“Twenty minutes ago.” She said. She looked deflated. Like she knew what he was, the way he did.

How long had he been on this train?

“How long have we been on this train?”

Shock rippled across her face but she tried to mask it.

“Since Seattle.” She said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Again the question caught him off-guard like a sledgehammer to the chest and he felt emotional vulnerability send more salty water to his raw tear ducts. He held it back and checked her name tag again.

“Where are we now Dominika?”

“I think we’re about to cross from North Dakota into Minnesota.”

Zach was horrified. How long had he been out for? He must have been literally unconscious for less than an hour, but how long had he been blackout for? The gravity of it continued to sink into the abyss within him.

What had he done?

He could see Dominika was holding onto a fraying facade of cool. He cleared his throat.

“It’s going to be alright. They’re coming up with a redundancy plan right now.”

She met his bloodshot eyes and he could see the uncertainty in hers. Doubt. He’d seen that look too many times; he knew it all-too terribly well. The same look when Sarah had driven him to rehab for the second time. When Cassie nodded when he told her he would be there for Christmas. The tears sprang up again and he clamped them down, rubbing his eyes.

“Ok.” She said after a moment, and he knew she didn’t believe a word of it. “What do I do? I moved all the passengers into the rear four coaches.”

“Great, tell everyone to buckle in and try to keep them calm. We’re working out a solution. Check back in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?”

“I know that seems like an eternity right now, but we still have thirty minutes before we reach the next station, and we may have a plan before then.”

She turned to go. “Have you ever been in this situation before?”

He hadn’t. He thought about lying for a second.

“No.”

“Then how do you know there will be a plan?”

His false confidence buckled and he thought about giving up right then. Slouching forward, admitting defeat. The rail authority would figure something out and he would take the fall. This could be it. Fall on the sword and be done with it forever.

Cassie and Sarah.

Then they could finally let go of what little strands of him they still held onto half-heartedly, and move on with life.

Recover.

The word was terrifying to him. A mountain too gargantuan to climb, or even set foot upon.

Let go. It is what it is now. That’s it. You made this bed. Now sleep in it You know it’s the right thing to do.

The guilt, shame, and regret pulled him towards the ground like several tons of locomotive engine.

The train lurched and shuddered, throwing them off balance for a moment and he was shocked back into reality.

“You’re going to start feeling it soon and it’s not going to get better.” The dispatcher’s words replayed in his mind.

People would die if he did not act. NOW.

“Sir?” Dominika asked. “How do you know there is going to be a plan?”

“Because I am going to make one. Go get the passengers strapped in, and please do not pull any more emergency brakes. They might have something left in them and we’re going to need it.”

Dominika nodded and hurried off.

...

He returned to the cab and assessed the console again. He began testing the controls to see what capabilities he still had left. It wasn’t great. Something had damaged the nervous system of this train, and he couldn’t tell it to stop sprinting.

The train shuddered again as the damage to the wheels began to take its toll.

Zach was ashen faced.

There was nothing he could do in this situation. Eventually, the wheels would deteriorate further and either they or the track would give out, and the train would topple. At these speeds, no one would survive this. The radio crackled.

“Come in operator.”

“Copy, I’m here.” He said. All he could think about was Cassie and Sarah.

And the mountain of his failures and regrets that separated them from him.

“It looks like we have bigger fish to fry.” The dispatch said, and now Zach could hear the dismay in his voice.

“I’m listening.” Zach said.

“We’ve cleared the tracks at the next station, so you are going to blast through and hopefully your wheels will stay intact for that. The problem is once you’re through, there’s a big turn about twenty minutes after. At these speeds, we don’t know if the train will stay upright. It’s a sharp turn, meant to be decelerated into.”

The silence hung in the air between them for a leaden moment. Zach could hear no hint of hope in the dispatcher’s voice.

“Have you been able to cut power to the engine?” He asked. They both knew the answer.

“No luck. My controls are mostly fried. I don’t know how much fuel is left, but it’s probably not going to burn up quickly enough for us to start slowing down before this turn.”

“Copy that.”

Silence again.

The tears were overflowing now, and Zach didn’t bother trying to stop them.

What had he done?

Was he going to die like this?

Was he going to take dozens of people with him?

“Standby operator, we’re reviewing some extreme measures. National guard has deployed some heavy vehicles and other equipment and we’re going to see if we can slow you down externally. Hang tight.”

“Copy that.” Zach choked a sob.

He had done this.

It was coming back to him now. Three days ago in Seattle. He had gotten the letter notifying him he had been denied visitation rights. He had drank all day. And all night. And all day again. And he couldn’t remember anything after that. He had always been a highly functioning alcoholic, but this was too far. Had he checked in to work still drunk? He must have or the blackout wouldn’t have been this bad. He had come to work blackout drunk and fallen asleep at the wheel. And now he was here. On a train that wouldn’t stop, headed for a turn that it couldn’t make.

He wiped the tears away and tried to steel his nerves.

This was it.

This was rock bottom.

He sank to the floor of the cab and cried bitterly.

He allowed himself to weep for three minutes. Then he dried his eyes and shut off his non-analytical mind. He had to do something, and he had to do it now. The mountain of regret and pain and suffering - he had to put it behind him. If these were the last minutes of his life, he would change. He would get clean. For himself. For Cassie. For the people aboard this train.

He would recover.

It seemed pathetic and stupid, but it was all he had left.

He stood up and adjusted the controls as best he could. The train shuddered, the wheels wearing down a little more. There was now a constant rapid vibration as the bent metal rolled across the track at two hundred miles per hour, wheels rotating hundreds of times per minute. It would probably be another twenty minutes until they really started degrading. By that point they would have passed the station. He had to make these minutes count.

He made sure all the brakes were released and not active - if they were they would just be wasted at this point. He tested the master control for the emergency brake system. It was still responsive.

“Operator come in.”

“Operator here.”

“The tracks at the station are clear, and we’re clearing the track beyond it. You’re going to be passing through in about ten minutes. National guard has been spraying the tracks after the station down with tarmac foam to try and slow you down for the upcoming turn. It’s our best option for now. We advise you strap in. Things could get bumpy.”

“Understood.” Zach said. He had an idea. It went against every rule of protocol, but given the foam on the tracks, it was the best chance the people on this train had of surviving.

He left the cab and made his way back four cars until he met Dominika, who was making her way back to the front.

“Any word?” She asked.

“They’re spraying the tracks with foam to slow us down. Everyone needs to be buckled in, it could get bumpy.” She didn’t fully understand it, but she nodded.

“And there’s something else I need you to do.” He said.

…

Fifteen minutes later, they had cleared the station and were approaching the foamed-up tracks. Zach could see National Guard trucks in the distance. He was back in the cab and he had given Dominika the spare walkie-talkie.

“Are you ready?” He checked through.

“Ready.” She confirmed.

“Don’t pull the brake until I say.”

“Copy that.” She said. She sounded scared. He didn’t blame her.

When they hit the foam, there was going to be a solid moment where the initial impact would slow the train for just a beat - just long enough to take some of the tension off the coupling between the engine car and the rest of the train. Zach was going to unhitch himself from the rest of the train in that moment. The foam wouldn’t be enough to stop or even significantly slow the whole train down with an engine dragging it at two hundred miles per hour, but if it was without that force, then maybe it could.

He might not make it around the turn, but the rest of them could.

His heart was beating quickly, but it wasn’t racing anymore.

The wave of panic from earlier had subsided and been replaced with a sort of calm. Acceptance. He knew it wasn’t likely that he would survive this. But if he did, he knew he would come out of it a changed person. He knew deep down that he was done, he quit, and he would bounce back from rock bottom.

He was done.

He just wanted a second chance now.

“Operator? One minute til impact. We’re monitoring you.” The dispatcher paused. “God bless.” It was as gentle of a goodbye as possible under the circumstances.

“Copy that.” Zach replied.

He counted down the seconds, his hand on the lever that would uncouple the engine car.

He saw Cassie, swinging in that perfect July heat, the late afternoon sun making her yellow hair glow golden.

Twenty…nineteen…eighteen…seventeen…sixteen…

“Are you OK?” The dispatcher’s voice came through one more time.

This time the question didn’t sting.

“I’m OK.” Zach replied.