The Train Station: Chapter Four

“If I get lost, call down the cave and I'll know where to go.” Gary said, looking back hopefully at Beach. “Let me see what this thing is down there.”

“Alright,” said Beach, who was more curious than she'd have liked to admit; “but come right back after and we'll eat.”

“Yay! I'll be back!” Gary scrambled off on his hands and knees. Clattering sounds issued from the crevice.

Beach sighed and leaned her head against a rock. “Hope you don't mind the delay, Jingle.”

“It's okay.” Jingle was still thinking about the yellow liquid. “Why’d you think that yellow stuff hurried off so quick?”

“Well, it's like water when you leave it on the ground; it goes away after a time. Don't ask me how. What I'd like to know is why your rock shifted.”

“Maybe the bottle was too heavy,” said Jingle doubtfully, remembering all the times she herself had sat on the rock and it'd never budged.  

“I couldn't tell you. It's awful weird. Anyway, when's your ma back from Sandburg?”

“In two days or so,” said Jingle, fiddling with the end of her braid and thinking drearily of the many more batches of bread she would have to bake by herself. Beach seemed to read her mind.

“I can come back tomorrow and help if you like. . . If my ma don't need help in the garden. It's been dreadfully hot this year, so we got to water it every day. But I'm pretty handy at housekeeping, or so my ma says.” Beach looked proudly down at the golden bread.

“You’re miles better than I am, anyhow.” Jingle beamed generously in Beach's direction. “Thanks a lot. I'd be glad if you can make it. Bring Gary too, if you like.”

She suddenly felt that the following days would be less tedious than she had feared. Gary and Jingle would make even a baking session seem fun.

They then heard Gary's voice, sounding funny and muffled, coming from the crevice.

“Come and have a look at what I found.”

Beach and Jingle exchanged glances.

“I knew this would happen,” grumbled Beach. But she followed Jingle into the crevice.

It was dark, and rocks scraped at Jingle's hands as she crawled in, trying not to think of the weight of ground between her and the sky. It soon became a most unpleasant experience; she began to feel a queer sort of squished sensation as she wondered what would happen if she had to turn around suddenly. There wasn't any room for such a maneuver, which was frightening— (how much longer did they have to go?) —

Then she realized that the ceiling was now high enough to stand up in, though not much wider. Jingle scrambled upright and saw Gary standing further away.

“What is it?” she asked, trying not to let her voice sound scared, but her heart thumped when she remembered what a small space they were in.

And then she saw it.

It was hard to tell in the dim light but the other side of the cave wall did not look entirely like a cave wall. Shadowy metal bars that might once have supported a structure lay like a skeleton on the floor or stuck up like stalagmites to touch the ceiling. They seemed to be surrounding something; something that Jingle thought was one of the strangest things she had ever seen.

It looked like a carriage, but the wooden parts had gone away, leaving a decaying iron shell thick with rust. The windows were only only large gaps, staring at them. There was what might have been a doorway but there was no door in it.

Beyond it was a low tunnel draped in ancient cobwebs, sliding into darkness, but the air that came out of it was like air that had not been disturbed for centuries aforetime, thick with unknown and ancient and mysterious things. The silence felt wrong to break.

Jingle got the queer scared feeling again.

Gary touched the flaking metal gingerly, and a piece broke off and clattered down. The sound echoed.

He said in a hushed voice, "This thing is old. Who'd have thought that it was under your house, Jingle?”

“What is it?” was all Jingle could say, thrilling with a terrified fascination.

“I've no idea but I'd make sure and tell your ma as soon as she come down from Sandburg. This might be some kind of ruin. Who knows who built it.”

Beach was much paler than usual. “That's. . . Really weird. Say, let's go.”

Jingle however was far from ready. She squeezed past some of the beams and peered into the dark remains of the object, shivering at the sight of the mass of old grey spiderwebs dangling from the roof. It appeared to be empty.

She shot a glance at the tunnel, low and dark as it was; and for a careless moment she imagined what horrendous creatures could come up at them— she had heard about dragons from some of Ma’s stories. Surely they wouldn't . . .

Jingle avoided looking at the tunnel again. Gary, who had climbed up into the contraption, said, “This is interesting.”

“What is?” Jingle gripped the sides of the doorway and scrambled inside, but she tripped over the loose floor and the whole thing rattled dreadfully. Bits of dust drifted slowly through the light.  

Beach looked anxiously in at them through a window while Jingle peered over Gary's shoulder.

“It's writing—or something,” he said, brushing the dust off of a section of metal.  

Very strange writing was set into the metal, about three inches long. It was worn down so that some of the letters were missing, even if they were letters; for they were strange and dark-looking, and the symbols were completely unfamiliar. 

Stricken with awe, Jingle stared, wondering. Gary seemed to feel the same way. “Come and have a look, Beach.”

“In there? No thank you!” said Beach, pointing at the dangling cobwebs with disgust. “This place scares me. Let's go.”

Something about seeing the old writing made Jingle feel more inclined to agree with Beach. The idea that someone, years and years and years ago, knew what it meant, and knew what all of this was, instilled another funny frightened sensation. Even Gary seemed more nervous; he looked only pale as he turned from the symbols on the wall and waited for Jingle to descend into the cave.

But Jingle chose that moment to discover that not all of the age-old cobwebs were deserted. A dark, stringy-looking spider dangled on an invisible thread just above the entrance, about two short inches from her face. She gave a yell that sounded odd in the small space and plunged backwards, catching herself heavily on a slender iron protrusion sticking up out of floor. The whole contraption rattled horribly and a cobweb dropped down onto the floor. The spider, as though sensing imminent danger, chambered up its thread and out of sight.  

“What'd you do that for?” Gary said frowning as the dust settled. “This thing could fall apart—”

“I didn't mean to. You would've too, had you seen that spider just shy of your nose!”

“What spider? And be careful—”

“I think it is falling apart,” said Beach from outside the carriage. “Listen.”

A most horrible creaking and grinding noise was issuing from somewhere beneath them. Particles of dust were still vibrating off the walls and a strange rumbling sensation could be felt through the floor.

“What's it doing?” Gary glanced suspiciously at the long protrusion, which was sticking out at a different angle than it had been. “I think you broke it, Jingle.”

There was a high-pitched, drawn-out creaking sound followed by an ominous clang of machinery. Jingle decided that the whys and wherefores pertaining to the contraption’s sudden rupture were unnecessary and made a headlong dash for the door, but in doing so felt something that nearly overbalanced her. Out the corner of her eye she saw Gary seize a portion of the wall for balance, a surprised look on his face.

The machine began to roll.