The Train Attendant

Bert hated the tunnels, especially on a bright and sunny Sunday like today. He didn't mind the short tunnel so much, but the long tunnel that the train passed through as it approached the West station was nearly unbearable. The old superstition about holding his breath didn't help because the longer tunnel took nearly two minutes to pass through. The best he could do was to find a quiet spot and wait it out. Once they were through it he could attend to his duties, hoping that none of the passengers noticed his nervous tic; the rapid swallowing that sent his large Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

This was the final outbound trip of the weekend, and tomorrow he could have the day off. The train made four trips per day, four days a week, Thursday through Sunday. The old engine and five gleaming passenger cars had been restored to their former glory of 50 years ago, pressed into service for sightseeing each weekend, passing through quaint countryside villages and curving around meadows. Although the retro 1930s uniform Bert wore was a bit itchy, he liked seeing the faces of elderly passengers and their grandchildren light up as he welcomed them aboard. This was his sixth week on the job, and he was pleased with how nice a summer it had been so far. He looked forward to finishing his duties and returning to university in the fall.

Bert pushed the refreshments cart down the aisles, handing out after-dinner mints and taking trash from passengers. He had his timing down fairly well now, checking tickets at the start of the Westbound route, pausing for a few seconds to pass through the short tunnel, finishing the ticket checks, and doing two passes with the cart before the long tunnel and their arrival at the West station. The final return trip would be much the same, sweetened with the promise of being able to head home for the night after reaching the East station. He didn't mind the occasional rude passenger, the train-mad kids who peppered him with questions, or the rote tasks of checking tickets and counting cash. He just hated the tunnels, that was all.

Bert walked to the end of the final car and parked the refreshments cart in place, locking the wheels. He held onto the handrail of the seat nearest him, thankful that all of the passengers in this last car were facing away from him. They wouldn’t see his agitation, or the sheen of sweat that glazed his pale skin. It was silly wasn’t it? A grown man afraid of the dark. 

As the train approached the long tunnel Bert squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed hard, and tried to steady his breathing. Suddenly the train car was plunged into darkness. Bert counted the seconds in his head. One... two... three... He knew that it would take 98 seconds to reach daylight and safety again.

Bert's fear of the dark was ingrained at age six by a mining accident which claimed his uncle. Little Bert spent hours clinging to his mother's side while she wept and grieved her brother, and in the chaos of funeral arrangements and services that accompany every death, Bert picked up snatches of adult conversation that sent his little brain into spirals.

"...trapped, three days..."

"... four men..."

"...ran out of air, the poor bastards..."

For weeks and months after that, Bert lay awake at night imagining the terror. What it must have been like to be trapped in a collapsed mine for hours that stretched into days. Horror compounding horror as the lantern ran out, then the air, then life itself. It didn't help that his bully of an older brother would lock him in dark closets and laugh at Bert’s shrieks. Relief finally came for Bert at age 10 when his brother was shipped off to boarding school.

Bert was now 19 and liked to think of himself as an adult, but these infernal tunnels said otherwise. He always felt as nervous in the dark as he had as a small child. The only lights present in the train cars were the tiny circles that glowed a feeble yellow to demarcate the path of the aisles, and Bert felt that they were no match for the seeping black of the tunnels. Bert shook his head a few times, as if the physical act could dislodge his phobias. He kept counting. Ninety-five... Ninety-six... ninety-seven... 

Just as suddenly as it had plunged into darkness, the train emerged again into sunshine. Bert breathed a sigh of relief as he blinked in the bright daylight. Twenty minutes later they pulled into the West station, and Bert bid the passengers farewell as they disembarked. He walked from one end of the train to the other, picking up the last of the gum wrappers and paper cups left behind. They had nearly an hour’s break before their return trip began, and Bert was eager to be done with his work day.

The train departed the West station just as the sun began to sink lower in the sky, seeming to send them off with its cheerful orange and pink glow. Bert knew he had just enough time to walk the first two cars and collect tickets before they entered the long tunnel. He collected twelve tickets, sold two more, made change, and then stopped at the middle car to wait. The train seemed to hiccup as it entered the tunnel, a nearly imperceptible bump as they went over the tracks. That was odd - had they run over something? Bert made a note to ask the engineer when they arrived back at the East station. He gripped the handrail mounted on the wall and counted. One... two... three...

All at once there was a terrible grinding sound and the train jolted. Passengers raised their voices, calling out in confusion. Bert gripped the handrail tighter as he felt the train slow, listening to the horrible cacophony of screeching brakes and cries of fear. The dark enveloped them, seeming to close in as the train slowed.

"What on earth?"

"Why are we stopping?"

"Mommy, I'm scared!"

Bert swallowed rapidly and forced himself to unwrap his fingers from the handrail. As much as he hated the dark, he knew that he had to check with the engineer. Bert walked rapidly between cars, making his way to the front of the train.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll check with the engineer. If you'll please stay calm and stay in your seats we'll find out what's happened."

Bert forced himself to keep his eyes open, looking down at the tiny lighted dots of the aisle markers as he made his way forward. He reached the engine just as the train halted, rocking back just a bit as it came to a full stop.

Bert and the engineer hopped down together, hitting the cold floor of the tunnel and listening to the gravel scatter. The engineer coughed; a dry, weak sound that was swallowed by the tunnel. The train had stopped nearly halfway, and Bert could see the arc of it barely illuminated by the daylight filtering in at both ends. So there was daylight, after all. The tunnel wasn't eternity. It could be beaten. Bert suddenly felt powerful, and his cold fear of the dark morphed into something warm and full of energy. For the first time in his life, he took charge. 

"Do you have a flashlight? Can you walk ‘round the front of the train and see what’s what?" 

The engineer nodded. "Up in the cab. I'll get it, then radio for help once I know more.”

Bert nodded in assent and climbed back up to the first car. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. If you could please remain seated I'll keep you apprised of any information that we have. The engineer is going to check on the train and hopefully we'll be on our way shortly."

Bert was surprised at how strong and calm his own voice sounded in his ears. 

"Is anyone hurt? Does anyone need medical attention?" 

The voices in the near-dark mumbled thanks as Bert made his way down the aisle guided by those puny dots of light on the borders of the aisle. He checked on each passenger in turn, promising to bring refreshments on his way back and offering as much comfort and reassurance to them as he could. When he reached the last car, he unlocked the wheels of the cart and followed the aisle lights back toward the front. At the end of his slow pilgrimage with the refreshment cart, Bert locked the wheels, leaving it in the aisle of the first car for the moment. He opened the door of the carriage and leaped back down into the darkness, calling for the engineer. 

No response. Bert listened, opening his eyes and ears to the damp, cold darkness. A faint, almost gentle rumbling reached his ears. Then the rumble deepened, and the most enormous crash Bert had ever heard washed over him. The awesome sound and vibrations pummeled his body. With a flash of horror, Bert realized that the tunnel was collapsing. He turned and leapt up between the engine and the first car. A rock glanced off the side of his head and warm blood spilled down his collar. Bert belatedly wondered where his hat had gone. He wrenched the car door open and fell inside, accompanied by a great cloud of dirt and dust. His brain sent up a little signal of alarm. The engineer, he thought. He was outside the train! 

Bert lay face down on the floor, coughing and choking. A few faint voices reached his ears as passengers wailed or cried out in alarm. Bert pushed himself up off the floor of the car and removed his jacket. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. When he turned to check the door of the carriage, he realized that the entire space between the car and the engine had been filled with debris. In the shock of the collapse and the deeper darkness, something solid settled in his chest. Bert realized that the only thing he could do, the only choice possible, was to do his job. 

Bert pushed the cart back toward the rear of the train, handing out cold drinks and as many reassuring words as he could muster. As he walked each car, he realized that rubble and debris had enclosed the entire train. To his surprise, the passengers were easy to calm, and as he reached the back of the last car and locked the cart into its resting place, the awful explanation for why they were so calm bubbled up. They don't know, he realized. They don't know that the engineer is dead and that the radio is in the engine and that I have no way of getting us out of here. They don't KNOW. 

Bert felt icy terror settle into his chest, then spread outward through every vein. He swallowed rapidly as the cold flames of it licked upward into his sinuses. Tears sprang to his eyes and blurred the aisle marker lights before obscuring them completely. 

They weren’t going to make it out of the dark, and Bert was the only one who knew.