Read Online The Motion Demon by Stefan Grabinski, Miroslaw Lipinski - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stefan Grabinski, Miroslaw Lipinski
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fire through its mouth, lit up the road with encompassing eyes. In the distance, the glow of a station was already visible.
As if sensing the nearness of the yearned-for stop, the train summoned all its strength and doubled its speed. Already the distance signal flashed phantom-like, set for clear passage, already semaphores were extending friendly arms in welcome. The rails started to duplicate, crossing in a hundred lines, angles, iron interweavings. As if in greeting, switch-signal lanterns to the right and left descended from the night shadows, station water-cranes, wells, heavy levers extended their necks.
Suddenly, several feet before the riotous locomotive, a red signal appeared. The engine threw out an abrupt whistle from its bronze throat, the brakes screeched, and the train, checked by the frenzied exertion of counter-steam, stopped right before the second switch signal.
Boron ran down and joined the flock of railwaymen who had got off to check the cause of the interruption in movement. The signal operator who had given the danger signal explained the situation. The first track, on which they were to ride, was temporarily occupied by a freight train. The switch had to be shifted and the train set onto the second track. Usually this manoeuvre is carried out at the signal-tower with the help of a lever. Meanwhile, however, the underground connection between it and the tracks had experienced some trouble, so the operator had to carry out the shifting outside with the aid of a key to get to the control switch.
The calmed crewmen returned to their cars to await the all-clear signal. Something riveted Boron in place. With a wandering gaze he looked at the blood-red signal, as if stupefied he listened to the grating sound of the rails shifting.
‘At the last minute they discovered the problem! At almost the very last minute, some 300 metres before the station! So, was the Sloven lying?’
Suddenly he understood his role. He quickly advanced to the signal operator, who was now changing the colour of the signal to green.
One had to divert this person from the switch at all cost and force him to leave his post.
Meanwhile, his comrades were already giving signs for movement. From the end of the train passed from lips to lips the cry: ‘All aboard!’
‘Wait! Hold on!’ Boron shouted.
‘Signalman!’ he said half-aloud to the railwayman, who then stood at attention. ‘I see some tramp in your tower.’
The signal operator became alarmed. He strained his eyes in the direction of the little brick building.
‘Hurry up!’ insisted Boron. ‘Get going! He can play around with all the levers and upset the crossing!’
‘All aboard! All aboard!’ rang the impatient voices of the conductors.
‘Hold on, damn it!’ protested Boron.
The signal operator, conquered by the power of the voice, the particular strength of the command, dashed towards the tower. Boron, taking advantage of this, grabbed the switch control and reversed it, connecting the rails to the first track.
The accomplished manoeuvre was deft, swift, and quiet. No one noticed.
‘All aboard!’ he shouted, withdrawing into the shadows.
The train moved, making up for time lost. In a moment the last car was already slipping into the semi-darkness, dragging after it a long trail of red lights….
After a while, the confused signal operator ran up from the tower and looked carefully at the position of the switch control. He didn’t like something. He raised a whistle to his lips and gave a three-tooted distress signal.
Too late! For a terrible crash from the station shook the air, a deafening, hollow boom of detonation, then a hellish racket, turmoil, and whining; wails, weeping, and screams were interwoven into a single wild chaos with the clash of chains, the cracking of shattering wheels, and the battering of mercilessly crushed cars.
‘Collision!’ murmured pale lips. ‘Collision!’
THE PERPETUAL PASSENGER
A
As if sensing the nearness of the yearned-for stop, the train summoned all its strength and doubled its speed. Already the distance signal flashed phantom-like, set for clear passage, already semaphores were extending friendly arms in welcome. The rails started to duplicate, crossing in a hundred lines, angles, iron interweavings. As if in greeting, switch-signal lanterns to the right and left descended from the night shadows, station water-cranes, wells, heavy levers extended their necks.
Suddenly, several feet before the riotous locomotive, a red signal appeared. The engine threw out an abrupt whistle from its bronze throat, the brakes screeched, and the train, checked by the frenzied exertion of counter-steam, stopped right before the second switch signal.
Boron ran down and joined the flock of railwaymen who had got off to check the cause of the interruption in movement. The signal operator who had given the danger signal explained the situation. The first track, on which they were to ride, was temporarily occupied by a freight train. The switch had to be shifted and the train set onto the second track. Usually this manoeuvre is carried out at the signal-tower with the help of a lever. Meanwhile, however, the underground connection between it and the tracks had experienced some trouble, so the operator had to carry out the shifting outside with the aid of a key to get to the control switch.
The calmed crewmen returned to their cars to await the all-clear signal. Something riveted Boron in place. With a wandering gaze he looked at the blood-red signal, as if stupefied he listened to the grating sound of the rails shifting.
‘At the last minute they discovered the problem! At almost the very last minute, some 300 metres before the station! So, was the Sloven lying?’
Suddenly he understood his role. He quickly advanced to the signal operator, who was now changing the colour of the signal to green.
One had to divert this person from the switch at all cost and force him to leave his post.
Meanwhile, his comrades were already giving signs for movement. From the end of the train passed from lips to lips the cry: ‘All aboard!’
‘Wait! Hold on!’ Boron shouted.
‘Signalman!’ he said half-aloud to the railwayman, who then stood at attention. ‘I see some tramp in your tower.’
The signal operator became alarmed. He strained his eyes in the direction of the little brick building.
‘Hurry up!’ insisted Boron. ‘Get going! He can play around with all the levers and upset the crossing!’
‘All aboard! All aboard!’ rang the impatient voices of the conductors.
‘Hold on, damn it!’ protested Boron.
The signal operator, conquered by the power of the voice, the particular strength of the command, dashed towards the tower. Boron, taking advantage of this, grabbed the switch control and reversed it, connecting the rails to the first track.
The accomplished manoeuvre was deft, swift, and quiet. No one noticed.
‘All aboard!’ he shouted, withdrawing into the shadows.
The train moved, making up for time lost. In a moment the last car was already slipping into the semi-darkness, dragging after it a long trail of red lights….
After a while, the confused signal operator ran up from the tower and looked carefully at the position of the switch control. He didn’t like something. He raised a whistle to his lips and gave a three-tooted distress signal.
Too late! For a terrible crash from the station shook the air, a deafening, hollow boom of detonation, then a hellish racket, turmoil, and whining; wails, weeping, and screams were interwoven into a single wild chaos with the clash of chains, the cracking of shattering wheels, and the battering of mercilessly crushed cars.
‘Collision!’ murmured pale lips. ‘Collision!’
THE PERPETUAL PASSENGER
A
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