The master of the Pine City station waded through snow drifting on his platform and looked south for any trace of the rescue train. In the distance, a train whistle sounded, the call lost and soulful, making him pity the men on that train.

The telegraph message from Rush City had been a little garbled, but the tone was clear enough; the train was running too fast for the conditions. If possible, he had to signal the train to slow down.

It was a deed better said than done on this night when the snow was blinding and the cold beyond anything he had experienced.

A wane light broke the night, and the master pulled his watch from his coat and held it up in the light from the station to see the time. Doing a quick calculation, he realized the train was doing close to sixty miles an hour. The Rush City stationmaster had been right.

Putting the watch back in his pocket, the master took a red flag from his belt and held it up, ready to signal the train. They would pass by only feet away and virtually on a level with the master. He would throw the damn flag at them if the engineer did not notice.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The train seemed to struggle; engine labored, as if there was something wrong with the locomotive.

The train abruptly pierced the veil of the storm and rushed toward the master; its headlight bright. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, then saw a man atop the engine, standing at the front lip of the boiler. He turned as the master watched and faced north to watch the night, his coat flowing in the wind and flying upward as it touched the smoke blowing out of the stack.

The stationmaster raised the flag but never waved the warning as the train drew abreast of his position. The cold that seized him was a physical blow to the man, ripping the breath from his lungs and driving pain deep into his arms and legs.

Cab windows flashed by. He could see two men trapped in the nightmare the master now understood; the crew were in a battle for their lives and the lives of all the people in Cloquet.

Turning away from the cars as the train continued, the station master walked back to the warmth of his small building. The strength left his legs, and the man fell to his knees, then to his face. He was dead before the caboose passed the Pine City station.