by Mark Hall
and south. There was a couple with a child on the bridge looking down at the train tracks and another man was on the far side of the bridge walking toward us. In the grassy area between the bridge and the main mound were four or five people in two groups. I could just make out movement on the top of the mound so there were people there, too.
We looked around casually for anyone watching the bridge. I walked out and halfway across the GPS beeped at me to let me know I had arrived at the coordinates. I kept walking to keep from looking too suspicious and sat on a bench just past the bridge. I opened up the park brochure Dean brought us and tried to make it look like I was reading it.
As I looked to the north back at the bridge, I noticed how it was built. It was an iron-framed bridge with wood flooring. The metal frame of the sides were railed like a fence but covered in something like chain link. These sides extended straight up for about seven feet then curved toward the middle a few feet, making it difficult for someone were they to try to climb over. The train tracks cut through the hill and ran under the bridge in a straightaway that extended for another half mile or more to the east.
When I crossed the bridge, I noticed the west end of the tracks entered the park after a curve. There were woods surrounding the bridge in every direction but thicker back to the west. Chris had stayed just on the north side of the bridge talking to Dean; I called Chris on my cell as two guys passed by my bench.
“Hey honey, what’s up?” I asked.
“Honey?” he asked. “I might need to rethink my need for witness protection”.
The guys had passed and were now crossing the bridge where Chris was.
“What do you think about them?” I asked.
“I think they are here for the pottery exhibit” he said, as they walked past. He began walking toward me at the bench. It was 3:52. He sat by me and Dean walked up from the other direction.
“Those two are here for the cache, Mark, I am sure of it.” Chris said.
“How can you know that from walking by them?” Dean asked.
“Oh, he knows.” I said.
“They both had smartphones out in their hands but weren’t looking at them” Chris said, “They were looking over the bridge. The held their phone out flat, not just in their hands, and they had them both pointing north, which wasn’t natural unless you are using GPS to find a specific location, like using a compass.”
“Wow. Ok, I didn’t notice that!” Dean answered.
“So what do we do?” Chris asked.
I thought for a second and answered, “I think we have two things we need to try to do. First, is keep to anyone from getting killed trying to FTF that cache and the second is to catch this guy, if you are sure he is here”.
Chris answered, “I am sure”.
“Chris, what do you think about the message with this cache? Anything?”
Chris replied, “I am almost completely sure I know what it means. We need someone up here on the bridge and we need another group down on the tracks but out of sight.”
That was not going to be easy. Although there were trees and brush on either side of the tracks going west toward Macon, there was brush only a couple hundred feet along the tracks going east. As we considered what to do, a long train whistle sounded in the distance toward town. I looked at my watch, 3:55. Twelve minutes before something.
I made my way behind the bench and down through the trees to the tracks. I stepped out between the metal rails directly under the bridge and looked at my GPS. I was in the right spot but there was nothing on the tracks or the cross ties. I looked up to see under the bridge but there wasn’t anything the size of an ammo box attached to the frame or the underside of the boards that were a good 40 feet from where I stood.
I got a text on my phone that said ‘at your 3: 50 yards out’ from Cory. He had gotten our message and had come from around the corn mound and the maintenance shed through a couple hundred yards of brush to the track level but was well into the thick cover. I glanced up briefly in that direction but couldn’t see him. I could clearly hear the train coming but could not see it yet. There was a guy coming down the tracks in my direction from other direction.
3:58.
He met me under the bridge and I noticed he was also holding a smartphone. He smiled at me and looked on either side of the tracks and kicked up the gravel in a few spots.
I decided to speak. “I don’t see it”.
“Muggles” he said and looked under the bridge.
What the hell is a muggle, I said to myself. More of that Geocaching terminology I guess. By now the train had come around the curve from Macon and the locomotive was in clear view, about a half mile away. It had to slow way down to make that curve and the conductor was not yet putting the coals to it, so to speak. Chris sent me a text that said ‘come up top asap’ and I left this kid down here made my way back up to the bench side of the bridge, the south end, as it was the most direct way up. I knew Cory had an eye on him.
When I got there, I noticed a group of a half dozen guys were now on the bridge. Coming across was a young mother pushing a stroller, watching this group. Suddenly, one of them jumped up on the railing and began trying to climb over the curved portion of the fence. Another grabbed him by the legs and pulled him down and they began fighting and rolling around on the bridge. What I also noticed was that the others, who all seemed to have the same purpose and probably knew each other, did nothing to stop the fight. They all watched the train get closer.
4:02. The locomotive was a hundred yards from the bridge.
Dean was running toward them from the other direction. The young woman was pushing her stroller past the group and the pair that were fighting. Chris grabbed my arm.
“Don’t. Dean is obvious and not a threat to Shref, whichever one he is.”
“You think he is one of them?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. He would be some distance away and wouldn’t be trying to FTF his own cache and all these boys appear to be here just for that.” He jerked his head toward me and through the hair that fell over his face, I saw a light had come on.
“Give me the list of the campers again”.
“The what? Now?”
“Give to me. I think I have been an idiot.”
I gave him the list and he scanned it quickly.
4:04
Just then, one of the guys jumped the fence and was able to get over the curved section and swung his legs over to the outside of the fence. Dean had the other two guys he was dealing with and did not see him go over. Whoever Shref Fean was, he was going to have to wait. This kid was about to jump in front a moving train. Chris bolted toward the bridge. I ran down toward the tracks. The kid climbed down the outside of the fence below the floor and hung there, looking under the railings. The train was closing in and was less than fifty yards away. I made my way down the path and could see the kid hanging by one arm and shining a flashlight with his other. The horn from the train blew and the kid looked back.
Then he fell.