Peter Grist - Flashback

“Train coming.” Ed said

“I know but I don’t think we are going to get to the crossing before it arrives, this is no Ferrari!”

They arrived at the track crossing just as the huge EMD SD40-2 diesel locomotive thundered through. The locomotive carried the livery of the Indiana & Ohio Railroad with its main red body and black upper paintwork set against the white writing. The train was heading from west to east with what looked like over a hundred grain trucks being pulled, Ed guessed the locomotive was heading for the Grain Elevator at Thackery. As the sound of the horn died away all that could be heard now was the clickety-clack of the trucks rolling across the track ties.

“I might as well turn the motor off, we are going to be here some time.”

Ed made no reply. She looked across to her passenger, “Ed, are you okay, Ed?”

“Oh no!” was all he managed to murmur as the headache returned with full force. He cried out, arching his back against the seat, his head going over the head restraint, his hands digging into the armrests. As the pain increased his world went white…… then completely black.

No Particular Place To Go.

Ed came too with a groan but thankfully no pain. Looking out of the windshield the train was rumbling into the distance, the noise now just a gentle ticking. As it curled away he could see it wasn’t the same train, this one was all black and looked much older, and it only pulled a dozen freight cars.

“How long was I out for this time?” he asked.

There was no reply, as there was no one else in the car.

“Linda?”

He looked around quickly and realised immediately that he was still out. He was having a flashback and was sitting behind the big white steering wheel of the 1959 DeSoto again. The chrome encrusted radio was blaring out Chuck Berry so Ed leaned over and turned the volume down to a more bearable level. Now used to the flashbacks he wondered what he was doing here, he knew that there must be a purpose. The day had grown longer, the sun was almost gone. Looking up ahead, the red jewels of stop lights twinkled in the far distance from the back of another vehicle. He was much too far away to tell what the vehicle was, but instinctively he felt he must find out. The big V8 engine was already running so he pushed the D button on the dash, released the big chrome T-bar parking brake and rolled across the rail tracks. Once over the tracks and back on the blacktop, he put his foot down hard on the gas pedal. The mighty engine and Torqueflite three-speed transmission punched the car forwards, the acceleration pushing Ed into the back of the bench seat.

“Wow, I don’t remember my old DeSoto going this fast.” he thought to himself. By the time Chuck had finished singing Ed had got to the intersection where he had seen the stop lights on the other vehicle, but now there was nothing to be seen, two intersecting country roads that seemed to lead nowhere. He looked to his left, nothing for miles but flat land and the setting sun. He looked to his right and at the low hills and trees just a few miles away. No contest, he turned right and hit the gas.

The cultivated land looked healthier; the crops seemed to be thriving in the fertile earth. The rows of wheat and corn soon gave way to the forest as the terrain began to rise. Way ahead he could just make out the twin spots of red on the other vehicle; he was gaining on it he felt sure. There was nothing else around, no traffic, no buildings, nothing. He pushed the big-finned car faster, the speedometer creeping up to 95.

“You’re listening to the Bill Randle Show at W.E.R.E coming at you on 1300 kilohertz AM. That was Chuck Berry, and this is Fred Harris and the Manhattans singing… Crazy ’bout you”.

The slow melodic strains of the Doo-Wop group rose from the radio speakers set in the parcel shelf and behind the dash as they started harmonising. Ed could now make out what the vehicle in front was, an old red pick-up truck. He could feel his anger rise with the terrain; he closed the gap on the slower pick-up. It was now almost completely dark but he kept the quad headlamps turned off. If the dream or flashback or whatever the hell it was happening to him would let him, he intended to follow the driver, not confront him, see where he was going with the girl. If she was still alive, then he would attack the would-be killer. Could he save her, change history? God only knew, but he would try his damnedest. The road started to twist and turn some, the pick-up now had its lights on as it climbed higher into the hills. Ed stayed a few bends back so he couldn’t be seen by the driver but he was taken by surprise when the brake lights came on and the truck quickly slowed then swerved violently to the left taking a narrower road. Trying not to illuminate his own brake lights, Ed came off the gas and let the weight of the car against the hill slow him down. He took the left turn just a little too fast and the DeSoto fishtailed but he got it back under control and drove on. The smaller road was little more than a dirt track but the pick-up was now creating a dust cloud behind it that showed the way and hid Ed from the driver. The trees covered the dark sky so there was little in the way of moon or starlight to guide Ed forwards, so reluctantly he slowed. Killing himself wouldn’t help anyone, but then again, could he get killed at all if this was just a dream?! More questions than answers so far, but it wasn’t a question he wanted to find the answer to anytime soon.

He concentrated on the rutted track, trying to keep the truck in sight. After five minutes of bumping and juddering deeper into the forest and a few more smaller turns, he saw the brake lights come on up ahead. Ed pulled the car over behind some bushes and killed the engine. He cranked down the window and listened. Nothing! No engine, the truck had stopped. Ed opened the door and cursed himself when the courtesy light came on. “Idiot!” he said to himself. He quickly got out and gently closed the door, extinguishing the light again. “Well there goes my night vision,” he thought to himself, “just hope that fella didn’t see it”. Up ahead he heard a squeal as a rusty door was opened then slammed shut seconds later. Ed wanted to move forward but as he couldn’t see very far he waited another few minutes before making his way up the track, letting his eyes become re-accustomed to the dark. He needn’t have worried about losing the trail of the driver. Whoever it was must have been certain about being alone as they crashed through the undergrowth, snapping low branches and crushing fallen twigs underfoot. Ed got to the pick-up. It was the same old red post-war Dodge he had seen from his first flashback, he was sure of that. It was hard to tell from that era but with its bull nose, he guessed it was a 1948 or 49 model. The engine ticked gently as it began to cool. There was nothing in the bed, just a large battered tool chest bolted down behind the cab. Crouching low, he slid up the right side to the cab and peaked in. He was relieved to see it was empty. Fearful that he still might lose his pray he went into the tree line, following the trail of broken branches and noise up ahead. Whoever was up there, their progress was slow and Ed closed the gap. He thought he heard a man’s voice curse following the ‘thwap’ of a branch springing back into place. Ed’s eyes were now getting used to the dark and he could see fairly well, well enough that he recognised where he was. The trees had become less dense and he could now see the small stream he had crossed yesterday. Was it only yesterday… or fifty years ago? As he made the clearing near the stream he could see a man up ahead just going into the trees on the other side of the water. Instinctively, Ed ducked down but the man never turned around. Ed’s heart sank when he saw the Hessian sack on the man’s shoulders, he was too late. Anger rose again like bile in his throat, burning away. He wanted to crash ahead and tackle the man to the ground. He even started to run forwards but by the time he had reached the stream his sense had returned. He took a deep breath, calmed himself then stepped onto the stones across the water.