The pain was easing while Karl tried to read gauges in the cold. Skin on the side of his face was black from burns and frostbite had given the rest of his face a waxen pallor.

A dead man drove the train, passed except for the determination to reach his destination.

Bitter cold invaded the cab with no protective canvas, the cold lost on Karl. The locomotive was moving so fast now that it would reach Cloquet no matter what was to become of him.

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Frost formed on the gages and pipes of the cab, growing thick quickly.

Karl knew what was standing behind him without looking. Slowly, he reached up and brushed a hand against the steam pressure gage and saw the boiler was losing strength rapidly.

The longer he fought, the longer the creature would stay with the train.

He saw a mother and her child in his mind, holding the child as he died of a broken back and knew judgment had finally come. His sins had caught up with Karl and, with a sigh of relief, he surrendered to his reward.

A hand, desiccated and skeletal, skin blue, settled on the engineer’s shoulder.