Read Online So Cold the River (2010) by Michael Koryta - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Koryta
Ads: Link
and saw the cloud. It was a roiling, midnight-colored mass sitting low on the horizon and blowing in fast. He stood in the
middle of the tracks and stared up at it, feeling the fading sun on the back of his neck but seeing nothing but darkness ahead,
and then the clouds parted and fell back and a train emerged from the center.
It was a locomotive, and that malevolent dark cloud was boiling out of its stack, thick snakes of black steam. A whistle screamed,
and Eric could feel the vibrations under his feet now, the rails trembling with the approaching weight, loose gravel rattling.
The train was moving faster than any he’d ever seen, and he was standing right in its path. He stepped to the side and caught
the tip of one shoe on the rail, stumbled and almost fell as he lifted the tripod and scrambled down off the tracks and into
the grass where the fallen leaves lay. When the locomotive thundered by him, he had to turn from the tracks and lift one arm
to shield his face. Then the whistle split the air again and he looked up at the boxcars whirling by and saw that the train
was colorless, all shades of black and gray except for one white car with a splash of red in the Pluto Water logo. The door
of this car was open and a man hung from it, his feet inside the car and his torso extended, weight resting on the hand clasped
to the edge of the door. He wore an old-fashioned suit with a vest and a bowler hat. As the car approached he looked at Eric
and smiled and tipped his hat. It seemed like a gesture of gratitude. His dark brown eyes held a liquid quality, shimmering,
and Eric could see that he was standing in water, some of it splashing over the side, glistening in the darkness that surrounded
the train.
Then the train was by, an all-black caboose at the end, and the accompanying cloud lifted and Eric stood staring into the
sky, looking at nothing. A car came down the road, swerving into the oncoming lane briefly as it passed the Acura, and the
woman behind the wheel gave Eric a curious look but didn’t slow, went on toward West Baden Springs on the heels of a train
she clearly hadn’t seen.
8
T HE SENSE THAT CREPT over him then was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, reality and the world he knew separating and speeding away
from each other. He’d seen the train so clearly, had smelled the heat and felt the earth shudder. It had been
real,
damn it.
But now it was gone. Faded into the evening air like an apparition, and he was sure that the woman who’d just passed by had
not seen a thing. There was not so much as a trace of smoke in the sky.
Even the wind was gone. That thought brought the spinning leaves back into his mind, and he turned to the camera and flicked
open the display window. The leaves had been real. He had
that
crazy shit on tape.
He punched the rewind button and then play, jumped through some film from the casino until he reached the gloomy field and
train tracks and the…
empty sky.
There were no leaves in the air on this tape. Nothing except the tracks and the trees and the tall grass waving in the wind.
He went back to the casino shots again, played the video all the way through, squinting at the screen, and again saw no trace
of the spinning leaves.
“Bullshit,” he said aloud, staring at display. “Bullshit, you are so full of shit…”
“I thought a camera could never lie,” someone said from above him, and Eric lifted his head and looked up to see a young black
guy watching him. He’d pulled up behind the Acura and gotten out of his car and Eric hadn’t noticed any of it as he stood
there staring obsessively at a camera that was calling him a liar.
“I’m not certain,” the guy said, “but I think I was on my way to meet you.”
Eric cocked his head and gave a closer look. The guy was tall, probably six four at least, and very dark, with short hair
and wide shoulders. Dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt
middle of the tracks and stared up at it, feeling the fading sun on the back of his neck but seeing nothing but darkness ahead,
and then the clouds parted and fell back and a train emerged from the center.
It was a locomotive, and that malevolent dark cloud was boiling out of its stack, thick snakes of black steam. A whistle screamed,
and Eric could feel the vibrations under his feet now, the rails trembling with the approaching weight, loose gravel rattling.
The train was moving faster than any he’d ever seen, and he was standing right in its path. He stepped to the side and caught
the tip of one shoe on the rail, stumbled and almost fell as he lifted the tripod and scrambled down off the tracks and into
the grass where the fallen leaves lay. When the locomotive thundered by him, he had to turn from the tracks and lift one arm
to shield his face. Then the whistle split the air again and he looked up at the boxcars whirling by and saw that the train
was colorless, all shades of black and gray except for one white car with a splash of red in the Pluto Water logo. The door
of this car was open and a man hung from it, his feet inside the car and his torso extended, weight resting on the hand clasped
to the edge of the door. He wore an old-fashioned suit with a vest and a bowler hat. As the car approached he looked at Eric
and smiled and tipped his hat. It seemed like a gesture of gratitude. His dark brown eyes held a liquid quality, shimmering,
and Eric could see that he was standing in water, some of it splashing over the side, glistening in the darkness that surrounded
the train.
Then the train was by, an all-black caboose at the end, and the accompanying cloud lifted and Eric stood staring into the
sky, looking at nothing. A car came down the road, swerving into the oncoming lane briefly as it passed the Acura, and the
woman behind the wheel gave Eric a curious look but didn’t slow, went on toward West Baden Springs on the heels of a train
she clearly hadn’t seen.
8
T HE SENSE THAT CREPT over him then was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, reality and the world he knew separating and speeding away
from each other. He’d seen the train so clearly, had smelled the heat and felt the earth shudder. It had been
real,
damn it.
But now it was gone. Faded into the evening air like an apparition, and he was sure that the woman who’d just passed by had
not seen a thing. There was not so much as a trace of smoke in the sky.
Even the wind was gone. That thought brought the spinning leaves back into his mind, and he turned to the camera and flicked
open the display window. The leaves had been real. He had
that
crazy shit on tape.
He punched the rewind button and then play, jumped through some film from the casino until he reached the gloomy field and
train tracks and the…
empty sky.
There were no leaves in the air on this tape. Nothing except the tracks and the trees and the tall grass waving in the wind.
He went back to the casino shots again, played the video all the way through, squinting at the screen, and again saw no trace
of the spinning leaves.
“Bullshit,” he said aloud, staring at display. “Bullshit, you are so full of shit…”
“I thought a camera could never lie,” someone said from above him, and Eric lifted his head and looked up to see a young black
guy watching him. He’d pulled up behind the Acura and gotten out of his car and Eric hadn’t noticed any of it as he stood
there staring obsessively at a camera that was calling him a liar.
“I’m not certain,” the guy said, “but I think I was on my way to meet you.”
Eric cocked his head and gave a closer look. The guy was tall, probably six four at least, and very dark, with short hair
and wide shoulders. Dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt
Similar Books
