Overlook

The train screeched to a halt and the passengers lurched forward. Several heads bumped into the seats in front of them. Then everything was still. Everyone had stopped talking. The train had completely shut down. No engine, no humming lights, no nothing.

Stu was the first one to make eye contact with another passenger, quickly breaking it when he saw the fear in the woman’s eyes. Or maybe it was uncertainty. He was lucky enough to have a window seat so he turned his head to look out the window.

The train was perched on a narrow bridge, overlooking the river. The river raged beneath them as it carved the two states apart, as it had done for centuries and millennia before that. The river was about 5 times as wide as the train was long. And the train had stopped exactly in the middle of the bridge.

Stu thought to himself. Perhaps they could squeeze out of one of the doors and carefully follow the track back the way they came. Or follow it forward. It was the same distance so it didn’t really matter.

But why did he want to get off the train? It would start again. And the bridge was strong and reliable. It had stood for almost around years and had seen about a hundred times as many train journeys. And even if the train was broken down, another would come to push it or tow it.

He sighed in relief as he came to that realization. The other passengers also found a new calmness at that moment. Maybe they had also just completed the same thought process in their minds.

At that moment, the door to the train car slid open and the conductor stepped through. He closed it tightly behind him.

“Hey folks, can I have your attention, please?” Everyone was already looking at him, eager for an update. “We’re stopping here because you are all now food for the alligators in the river below.” Crickets. “Um, actually, the train just broke down and we’ll have it up and running in about half an hour.”

He shuffled down the aisle, wringing his hands as nervous eyes watched him. He inserted his key into the door at the other end and slid it open. And he stepped through, out of Stu’s car and into the next, he muttered “Sorry for lying.” Then he shut the door behind him and presumably delivered the message to the next car.

The passengers started to talk quietly to one another. Whispers at first but then a little louder. Nervous laughter and sighs filled the air.

But Stu’s mind was focused on one thing. Sorry for lying. The conductor’s alligator joke was bad and everyone realized it. But why would the conductor say “lying?” He should have said sorry for joking.

Stu replayed the scene in his head. First the alligator line. Then, the conductor said the train would be fixed shortly. And then, the conductor apologized for lying. Stu’s heart began to race. What if they were alligator food? But that wouldn’t make any sense, there were now alligators in this river, or anywhere nearby.

He looked out the window again at the raging river below. Little breaks in the water, waves, crests. He squinted. Wait… that wasn’t a wave. Those ridges belong to a reptile. He followed it back a few feet and saw a slithering tail behind the creature. He squinted harder this time. One, two, five, eight, eleven alligators rushing down the river along with the current. More followed.