The Last Zephyr, page 3
Reagan was speechless. He held that scanner like a mother holds a newborn baby. This was the greatest moment of his life! (Reagan actually had a lot of “greatest moments.”) The trip was Reagan’s fifteenth birthday present. He and Claire were riding the best train in America all the way, from start to finish.
Terry was happy for his son and wife. He wished he had the time and money to join them on that trip. To him, eating in the diner, having sleeping car accommodations, and all the rest sounded like great fun. But he was a working class guy. He and Claire had met while they were both working in the motor pool at Fort Hood. He always worried about how much money he spent. His life never included luxurious vacations or fancy cars.
Claire knew all about the conflict Terry faced as he toiled away for her and Reagan. She could feel the compassion and love her husband felt for his son, and for her. She wished desperately that Terry could join them on this trip. The familiar emotions welled up inside her: grief versus gratitude, anger tempered by anxiety, love overshadowed by loneliness. A familiar pattern. She could either start to cry, or get that nonsense out of her head right then.
Never mind all that, Claire thought, we are doing this! She had never seen Reagan so excited and thrilled.
“We are really going into the Rockies on the Zephyr!” Reagan repeated again and again.
Claire bit her lip to help hold back tears and nodded affirmatively. Damn right we are, she thought.
The train sped up as it went by Prospect Junction. They passed busy North Yard with its engine fueling station, marshaling yard, grain elevator, intermodal facility, and commuter rail maintenance shops.
Later that day, an “important train” was supposed to roll through North Yard. The BIG BOY was going to pull up to the massive steel water tower, or “water crane,” as such structures were called in the old railroad lexicon. The tank was located just north of the Pecos Junction control point switches. It was to be used to fill the boiler and water tender of the massive steam engine. That tower had rarely been used in the last seventy years, but was restored with a spout and filter system specifically for Train Days.
Speed on the Zephyr increased. The two 4,200 horsepower locomotives whisked west over road crossings equipped with “Quiet Zone” technology, where engineers didn’t need to sound the horn.
Passengers got their first good view of the mountains as they passed Old Town Arvada, the hub of a western suburb of Denver. The Rockies beckoned in the brilliant sunlight. The sky above the peaks was cobalt blue. Pine forests separated the city from mountain tops like a picture frame. Radiant white clouds accented the whole scene. Although it was a typically dry, late-summer day in Colorado, life seemed to emanate in every direction.
Dr. Michael Sayers was not enjoying the scenery. He had just gotten a disturbing call from his boss in Golden, Colorado. “Mike, you may have been right. The big one might be starting soon. Ground all over northwest Wyoming is sinking and bulging back up again . . . five feet in some places, and in just two hours! Not only that, the Dotsero volcano is venting heavy,” the man said. “I may have signed your death warrant, making you go to Grand Junction. Please forgive me.”
Mike decided right then to get off the train at the Granby stop and pay whatever it took to charter a plane and pilot to fly him south, where his wife and kids were headed, to outrun the calamity to come.
Oblivious to the terror brewing hundreds of miles to the north, a huge crowd filled the ball fields of Ralston Valley High School for the Labor Day soccer tournament. That evening, the All State Youth Orchestra was to perform as a “drone works” light show filled the sky for all the participants and surrounding community.
Nick used the PA to draw everyone’s attention to the event, and brag that his daughter was in the cello section of the orchestra. As the Zephyr passengers looked at the soccer fields, people at the games looked right back, beckoning the engineer to blow the whistle. Christina obliged them and let ’er rip, loud and strong.
Crossing over Indiana street, passengers could see Pikes Peak to the south and Longs Peak to the north. Those two 14,000-foot mountains are more than 160 miles apart, but so tall that they could both be seen at the same time from that vantage point. James Peak is right between them, but only 13,294 ft high. Seasoned rail fans knew they would travel underneath James Peak through the Moffat Tunnel in just about an hour.
At that very moment, emergency text alerts went out to every phone within 200 miles of Yellowstone National Park with an order to immediately evacuate the area by any available means. The message was signed by Sara Blackburn, director of Homeland Security. She was finally convinced that the United States was about to be hit within hours by a natural disaster worse than a nuclear bomb explosion.
Some people sitting on the right side of the train noticed a statue of a red horse next to the tracks. Nick was in the parlor car talking about it. “That is a monument placed as a memorial to the men and women who worked at the Rocky Flats nuclear weapons trigger factory during the Cold War. Many of those workers died relatively young of cancer and other health issues, possibly related to the work they did at Rocky Flats.”
One mile further west, the train went by numerous metal water diversion troughs. At that point, the tracks cling to the side of a steep slope on the north side of Barbara Gulch. Nick continued his narration, “The ground underneath the tracks here has a thick layer of bentonite clay just below the surface. That clay is weathered volcanic ash that settled in salt water millions of years ago. Bentonite is very expansive when wet, making it difficult to keep railroad tracks level. These drainage aqueducts redirect water and snow melt away from the tracks to mitigate the effects of the clay under the roadbed.”
Velocity slowed as the Zephyr went under the Highway 93 bridge. The Big Ten curves, one of the most famous spots for railfans along the route, lay just ahead. Winding around a series of 10-degree turns and climbing the 2.2 percent grade forced the Zephyr’s engines to work a little harder than usual. Christina fluctuated between notch 5 and 6. They rounded the famous string of hopper cars welded to a defunct track. The retired equipment was placed there to act as a windbreak after a freight train was blown over in 1969. Since then, no train had had an accident, in spite of the notoriously stiff breezes that regularly whipped through the area.
Nick commented on the PA, regarding the view of the skyscrapers in Downtown Denver. “Folks, rarely is the air so clear, the sky so blue, the city so dazzling as it is today. Soak it all in. You never know when you will get a chance to see Denver in all its glory again.”
Above the Big Ten is a siding called Eisele at Fire Clay. The roadbed cuts into the side of Eastridge at Blue Mountain. Nick pointed out the brilliantly colored layers of sediments exposed by the gash in the hillside that David Moffat and his men chiseled out to build the railroad more than 120 years before. Nick said one layer in particular was very different from the others: pearly white and about two feet below the top of the cut.
“We are 400 miles from Yellowstone. That layer is derived from ash that emanated, most likely, from a Yellowstone eruption 660,000 years ago. Imagine the power it took to thrust that much material this far!”
Dr. Sayers heard Nick’s words over the loudspeaker in his coach car. His first thought was that Nick was close, but still wrong. He was describing the Lava Creek B ash found at Leyden, not Fire Clay.
After he got over his typical scientific need for accurate minutiae, Sayers thought to himself, Does that guy have any idea how ominous his narration is?
René knew Nick had a good idea of what was going on at Yellowstone from their crew briefing. She tracked him down, found him in the crew dorm car, and gave him a good scolding. “You know a lot of people on this train have heard the news about Yellowstone this morning just like you did. Stop trying to scare them, please.”
After winding around Blue Mountain, the train crossed over a small bridge that went over Highway 72, Coal Creek Canyon Road. Christina, in the 313 cab, commented to Larry on how the number of people living in that area had grown over the years.
“I know,” Larry said. “They just keep adding houses and cars and people, but they never add enough roads or schools or stores. And what if there is a huge flood like in 2013, or a big wild fire like Superior in 2021? You think all those people up there can get through this tiny little road to safety?”
“Finally!” Jay said to Diana, as they sat on the preferred right side of the parlor car. “We’re in the mountains. Now we get to the good stuff.”
Moments later, the Zephyr entered tunnel #1. Nick’s voice came on the PA again. “This is the first of forty-three tunnels between Denver and Grand Junction, Colorado. We will go through the first twenty-seven tunnels in the next twenty-eight miles, culminating with the world-famous Moffat Tunnel that will take us over, and under, the Continental Divide.”
Climbing at a steady 2 percent grade, the Zephyr was well above the prairie below. Views out over the Great Plains were almost surreal; endless flatness collided with impossible undulations. Scattered among the steep hills, massive spires of stone, called the Flatirons, poked skyward.
David Halliday Moffat came to these hills in 1903 with an army of 20,000 railroad builders. His goal was to construct a standard gauge railway from Denver to Salt Lake City, and on to the Pacific. He never made it all the way, but he did drive his rail line through the Rockies, not around them. His chief engineer, H. A. Sumner, chose to weave through the Flatirons above Eldorado Springs. It took moxie to decide to build a railway among the rockslides and cliffs of that route, but it paid off. That choice created one of the most scenic passenger rail routes in the world. On the Zephyr that Labor Day, nearly everyone aboard agreed.
In the parlor car, Nick commented that passengers could look straight up through the sightseeing windows at all the rocks that had still never fallen on the tracks. It was a sobering thought, looking at thousands of tons of fractured stone high above them on nearly vertical cliffs.
After a few moments, Nick got back on the PA. “I would like everyone to know that you are on one of the safest railroads ever built. Between 1904, when the first trains crested the Rockies on the Moffat line, until today, not one passenger has ever lost their life due to a railroad accident of any kind. We have not been perfect, but every effort has been made by our host railroad, and our own company to keep that record from ever changing.”
Rounding Crescent siding, high above the deep chasm between the tracks and Gross Reservoir, the Zephyr passed a parked train full of rail. Nick commented to René how nice it was that the UPR had installed concrete ties all the way from Denver to Moffat Tunnel over the last two years. “I know it’s because of increased freight traffic, which can cause us delays, but I really do appreciate the enormous investment. Now they are even preparing to put in brand new rail! I will get to end my career on the best tracks money can buy!”
Chapter 6
Bad Behavior
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
—Edmond Burke
Not everyone was enthralled by the scenery and quality of the railway. Andy “Rad” Richardson had been drinking heavily. By the time Nick was talking about Gross Reservoir on the PA, Rad was too drunk to care about anything. He was not used to so much booze, having been in prison the past few years, and most recently having stayed at a shelter in Naperville, Illinois. When his bottle was empty, he went to Sammy, the lead service attendant (LSA) working the coach class snack bar, to try conning her out of another shot or two. Instead she cut him off and suggested he try to sleep until he was more sober. Back at his seat, he began getting fidgety. He was feeling like he had waited long enough—he remembered a pretty young woman he had seen a few rows away.
Ingrid was alone next to an empty seat. Susan, Ingrid’s seatmate, had gone to Sammy’s snack bar, one car ahead and downstairs.
Rad saw his chance to get close to the young foreigner who he perceived to be insecure. He went up and asked her how she was doing and if he could sit with her. He sat down, not really giving her a chance to say no. He asked her where she was from.
She looked at him skeptically and said, “Austria.”
“Cool, kangaroos and an opera house, right?” the ignorant ex-con asked.
“No, mountains and Mozart,” she replied without an ambivalent smile.
“Are you traveling alone, or with that older lady?”
She didn’t answer, thinking, Susan is a beautiful woman who is perhaps in her late forties, but certainly not old.
Rad kept talking. “Because I am traveling alone, just sort of exploring the West. If you want a travel partner, you know, we could travel together.”
Ingrid was dumbfounded. She wondered, Is this creep really thinking I would want to spend any time with him at all?
She replied, “I am meeting friends. I am fine alone,” in a tone that said, GO AWAY!
Rad persisted. “Really, I think you should hang out with me—I can take you to my beach house in Cali. It’s amazing!”
His lie was so obvious that a woman two rows forward, who was eavesdropping, let out a sharp scoff as if to say, “Liar!”
Ingrid tried to politely say no and ask him to leave, but Rad kept accosting her. He slid a bit in her direction, sitting too close for comfort. His hand reached for her knee. His bad breath blew on her.
She was just about to call for help when help appeared.
“It’s time for you to go back to your seat, Mister.” Zachary Miller’s voice left no doubt that he was prepared to do whatever it took to stop Rad’s unwelcome advances on the beautiful woman from Europe.
The entire train car was silent. People looked for Dan the car attendant, or one of the conductors. But no staff members were in the car at that moment.
“The girl and I are talking. You go mind your own Amish business,” Rad said to Zach condescendingly, only half glancing toward the powerful, chiseled farmer.
“Get up and go back to your seat now,” Zach said in a low, quiet tone that left Rad with only two choices: comply or fight.
“Please go, I do not want to talk to you,” Ingrid pleaded with Rad, afraid she would be the cause of a physical altercation, something completely unacceptable in her worldview.
Rad looked at Ingrid, feeling betrayed, then at Zach, who had the physical power to easily pummel the skinny ex-con if he chose to do so.
L.T. Miller watched his grandson’s courageous action to protect a stranger. He was proud of the moxie Zach was showing, but saddened by the truth the incident was revealing about who the boy really was in his heart. He and the rest of the Amish clan sat silently. Their strictly pacifist culture commanded them to not get involved.
Zach didn’t want to be a hero. He had asked his younger cousin to go find a conductor—fast, while he kept an eye on “that guy.”
But Dan, the car attendant, was in the diner, having his late breakfast break, and the conductors were in other parts of the train. Zach decided he couldn’t let Rad continue to escalate his unwanted advances. Several people in the train car were feeling the same urge.
Zach took a quick glance, hoping the conductor would open the end door of the car. No one was coming. He saw Rad physically move in on Ingrid, and saw the girl clearly try to back away. In Zach’s mind, it was time to either stand up and act, or be a coward.
L.T. Miller turned away from the scene and looked forward stone-faced. The others in the Amish group followed his lead. Zach had made his choice, a bigger choice than most people in the train car realized. He had decided he was not going to sit passively while another person needed help. He chose to be a man of action. Zach knew what his behavior meant. His Amish way of life was probably ending right then and there.
Rad turned to meet the challenge. Zach neither attacked nor retreated. He just stood there without flinching. Rad, in his booze-fueled anger, was getting ready to punch the powerful Amish man.
“That’s enough!” came the shout from Susan. She was shocked at the sight as she entered the upper level of the 512 car. The muscular, good-looking young Amish man was staring down the creepy guy, and that jerk was sitting in her seat!
“You!” she said, pointing at Rad’s eyes, “get the hell away from her, and get out of my seat. NOW!”
Rad took a quick look around. All eyes were on him. No one looked like they were on his side. After a brief silence, the angry ex-con relented. “This is crap!” he said out loud, as he got up and stormed toward the stairs. He stumbled, slamming into the water fountain cabinet on the way, and disappeared into the lower level of the next car.
Zach had not struck the man in anger, and the young woman was safe. The prayers of the Miller clan had been answered.
Susan looked at Zach. Zach looked at Ingrid. Ingrid looked back at Zach. Then Zach looked at Susan, not knowing what to do next. It was a magic moment.
Susan, who knew a thing or two about love at first sight, saw a hopeful gleam in Zach’s eye as he looked back at the young woman he had just defended. This could be interesting, she thought.
Ingrid’s thoughts were racing. Relief, embarrassment, confusion, and fear were in her mind. That was to be expected. What surprised her was her desire to keep looking at this clean-shaven man wearing odd clothes who had come to her rescue.
The hurried footsteps of a man bounding down to the snack bar on the lower level of car 511 were ominous. Sammy peered down the hall. Oh boy, she thought, as Rad tripped forward in her direction. There was no good will in his demeanor at all.
