Farraday Road

by Ace Collins

  “They sure made a mess getting in,” Cathcart said as he joined her.

  “Actually,” Curtis said as she examined the evidence, “the mess came from the inside blowing out.”

  Lije took a second look at the boxcar. Well, so much for the treasure. He turned his light back toward the far wall. While the flickering illumination from the oil lamp had been adequate inside the coach, with the thirty-foot ceiling, rising to more than seventy feet in some spots, as well as the wide expanse of open space between the boxcar and the wall, the lantern now did little but create exaggerated shadows. Still, as poor as the flickering light was, it was enough to see the body count had just risen by three. It appeared these deaths had been just as violent as those in the car.

  “Diana, look behind you,” Lije said.

  Curtis turned and moved toward the mummified remains. The victims were lying in a triangular pattern about twenty feet from the train, each about ten feet apart. Pieces of wood, evidently from the boxcar, littered the cave floor around them. Two men were on their backs; the other was face down. Curtis stooped to examine the man closest to the rear of the car. She then moved on to the next man. Finally she leaned over the last body. Now, seen for the first time in the flickering light created by Curtis’s lantern, about twenty feet in front of the dead men, was a large wagon with what appeared to be a team of dead horses or mules lying in front of it. Moving over to the wagon, Curtis studied the mummified beasts. She finally returned to the damaged boxcar.

  Lije and Cathcart looked at her expectantly, and she didn’t disappoint them.

  “It looks as if the Canadian who owned this car had it booby-trapped. If someone opened it incorrectly, a blast sent a lot of nails and other pieces of sharpened metal flying directly into the faces of those trying to board. It’s my guess these three would-be robbers and probable murderers were blown back to where they now rest by the force of the explosion. I think the concussion alone would have killed them, but if not, the metal that pierced their bodies made sure they died.”

  “This is like visiting a haunted house,” Cathcart said.

  Curtis glanced back toward the flash point of the explosion. “Now, before boarding the car, I think we’d better see if there are any other surprises. While I realize you both are itching to know if the original cargo, whatever that was, remains in place, let me examine the car first. This place might end up being our grave, but I don’t want to die as they did. In case there is more gunpowder, I’ll leave the lantern behind and use the flashlight.”

  Lije watched enviously as Curtis eased onto the wooden railroad car. Using her flashlight, she cautiously viewed her surroundings, then disappeared behind the wall of the boxcar. Except for occasional flashes of light from her maglight, they saw nothing.

  Lije shuffled back and forth about twenty feet from the track. Along with the others, he was holding his breath, praying that an explosion would not take another life. Finally Curtis appeared in the splintered opening where the door had once hung.

  “It appears nothing was taken,” she said. “There are four large crates. There are no markings on the sides. And that’s it.”

  Lije glanced at the ring on his right pinky and approached the train. He now was certain the ring was part of the treasure buried by remnants of the Knights Templar and was, or had been, on this train. Would he now see the rest of the treasure?

  Curtis reached down and helped him into the boxcar. Then they both helped Cathcart up. The trio walked over to look at the four crates that had remained hidden for more than a hundred years.

  Taking a pry tool from her case, Curtis carefully worked on the lid on the wooden crate closest to them. After making sure there were no surprises, she lifted the lid. Inside was a huge stash of gold and silver coins, rings, large ornamental crosses, and a host of relics from the Middle Ages. The trio tried to comprehend what was spread out before them. Gauging the value of what rested in the crate was impossible.

  “Let’s open the others,” Cathcart begged.

  Curtis moved over to the next crate and stuck the pry bar under the top. Using the leverage, she pushed down and the lid moved upward. Moving the bar, she repeated the effort. With her third effort, the lid finally came off.

  They were stunned. The crate was empty.

  She quickly moved to the next one. Putting her hand on the side of the box, she gave it a shove. It scooted across the floor. “This one is empty too. It’s much too light to have anything in it.”

  “As is this one,” Lije said as he pushed the final crate.

  “What happened to the rest of the treasure? ” Cathcart asked.

  Like Cathcart, Lije was mystified. What had happened?

  “We may never know,” said Curtis. “And we still have another mystery that we haven’t solved.”

  “What’s that? ” Lije asked.

  “The postman,” Cathcart said. “We haven’t seen his body.”

  Curtis jumped from the boxcar and, after retrieving her lantern from the ground, signaled for her informal team to follow her forward past the baggage car. Jumping up on the steps that led up to the mail car, she gave the knob a twist. The door didn’t give. Running to the other end of the wooden car, Curtis tried the far door. It was also locked.

  Holding her lantern up to the wooden entry, Curtis pointed out a lot of small holes. “He wouldn’t come out voluntarily. They sprayed this car with lead.”

  “That was the nature of the mailmen of the day,” Cathcart explained. “Many of them would fight to the death to protect the property of the United States Postal Department.”

  Curtis dipped into her case and retrieved another set of tools. “This man may have done just that.”

  Going to work on the lock with her picks, she unlocked the door in short order. While the others waited, she walked into the long-sealed car. In a few moments, she appeared back on the landing. “He died at his post. His dog died with him. So he couldn’t have planned all this.”

  “I’ve got a good idea who did,” Lije said. “In the journal I found in the desk of the private car, the Canadian, whose real name was actually Andrew Farnsworth, wrote about discovering a huge cache of treasure that had been buried by the remnants of the Knights Templar on an island somewhere. And he wrote that his brother had been following his train and traced him to Memphis. I’m guessing he planned the heist.”

  “Then the flood,” Cathcart said, “was just a lucky coincidence?”

  “I would guess so,” Lije replied. “It worked in favor of whoever planned the heist. Had to be more than one person in on it. That must have been some planning to build the track into the cave. They didn’t have much time.”

  Cathcart jumped in as if he were conducting a school lecture. “The track was laid across the old bridge to this cave. There must have been an opening where the ridge is now. The old switch was probably still in place then, so it was little problem to lay the track in the days before they hijacked Ole 74. That’s why they didn’t use as many spikes. They were in a hurry.”

  Curtis said, “It looks to me like initially the plan went well. They forced the engineer to drive the train into the cave, then they rounded up the five we met in the first car and had them cover the exposed track with dirt. That’s why their pants and shoes were muddy. After blowing the bridge, which is probably why we found no TNT or gunpowder on the train, they brought the men back into the cave, put them on the private car, and bound and shot them. Then they grabbed the treasure. They pulled the team and wagon up to the boxcar and forced the lock. When they started to swing open the door, the explosion ended their dreams of untold wealth.”

  Cathcart added, “And I think I can shed light on the final bit of irony in this case. The heavy rains that caused that flooding in June of 1891 created landslides all over this part of the Ozarks. Those rains probably loosened a great deal of the clay and rock on the hills above the cave. Driving the locomotive into this area put even more strain on the saturated hillside. Then the explosion cause
d by opening the boxcar door created a landslide. Thus the cave disappeared.”

  “And that would explain my early deed search,” Lije said, “that stated there were three caves when the newer one listed only two.”

  For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, Lije suddenly felt a sense of great loss. Six innocent men had died for nothing. Three others had paid for their greed. As he contemplated their lives, he wondered if it was too late to say a prayer for each of them. He was about to search for some type of meaningful words when Curtis broke his trance.

  “You know, Lije, everything here legally belongs to you. It’s on your property. As I recall the laws concerning such finds, after the state and the feds get their cut, it’s yours.”

  “That’s ironic,” he answered. “It’s probably not going to do me any more good than it did the men in this cave.”

  As the three each thought about the real possibility that it might be a long time before their own bodies would be found, a voice called out to them from the darkness.

  “I’VE FOUND SOMETHING,” JANIE CRIED.

  Grabbing a lantern, Lije worked his way quickly down toward the engine at the end of the cavern’s main chamber. When he finally came to the wall, he saw no signs of life.

  “Janie, where are you?”

  “Up here,” came her calm reply.

  “Where’s McGee?”

  “Over here, Lije. She told me to stay put, so I did.”

  Now joined by the other three, Lije lifted his light above his head and saw Janie standing on top of Ole 74. She had worked her way to the front of the engine and was holding her right hand toward the wall. A whimsical smile framed her face. She was almost glowing and seemed lost in an experience that Lije could not understand. “What is it, Janie?”

  “One of you needs to come up here.”

  Curtis leaned over and whispered, “She trusts you.”

  Lije passed his lantern to Curtis and stepped onto the cowcatcher. Finding handholds where he could, he stepped up on the platform over the huge iron wheels and then grabbed onto the smokestack. Pulling upward, he climbed to a point where he was directly behind Janie.

  Leaning back, she said, “It’s easier if you start in the cab.”

  “Now you tell me.” His voice was as unsteady as his position on Ole 74.

  “Put your feet outside of mine. That’ll balance you. Once you feel as if you’re secure, reach toward the cave wall. It slopes back toward us at this point, so it’s really just inches in front of the train.”

  Following her instructions, he moved into position, yet he was having a difficult time gripping the locomotive’s curved surface even with his tennis shoes. He slipped twice before discovering a position where he was comfortable enough to let go of the smokestack behind him.

  Janie giggled. “You need yoga. It would improve your balance.”

  As he reached toward the wall, he said, “I suppose you go to classes?”

  “Actually, I’m a teacher at our church. I know eighty-year-olds who have better balance than you do.”

  “When we get out of this mess, you can sign me up.”

  His chest pressed into Janie’s back as he found the wall. Having his hands now locked into place brought him a greater sense of security.

  “Okay,” Janie said, “do you see my right hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put your hand on top of mine. That’s good. Now you leave yours in place while I move mine away from the wall. Tell me what you feel.”

  At first Lije felt nothing, just the smooth rock surface. Yet as he allowed his hand to relax, he noted a crack in the rock beneath his palm. Following that fissure with his index finger, he discovered it was about three inches long and maybe a quarter-inch wide.

  “Did you find it?”

  “The crack?”

  “Yes. Can you sense the difference in the way the air feels coming through the opening?”

  He desperately tried to sense something he simply could not discern with his hands. “No, Janie, I can’t feel anything other than the crack. I don’t feel any air at all.”

  “That’s not surprising,” she assured him. “You don’t have to depend upon your sense of touch like I do. Replace your hand with your cheek. Lay your face against the wall where the crack is.”

  He leaned forward, his face now touching hers. Turning his head to the side, he pressed it against the wall. Then he felt a warm breeze. Pushing back, he steadied himself. “I feel it. But what does it mean?”

  “Does anyone have the time?”

  McGee brought his watch up to the lantern. “It’s about four.”

  “That was about what I figured,” Janie answered. “How difficult will it be to extinguish all the lights?”

  Curtis glanced back down the tracks. There were at least a half dozen lanterns down there, plus the four they had brought with them to the front of the train. “It wouldn’t be that hard. Might take me a few minutes.”

  “Would you all mind doing it while Lije and I stay up here?”

  “No problem.”

  What did she have in mind? What was Janie trying to show them?

  Curtis extinguished the lanterns behind them, placing the front of the cave in darkness. When she returned, the trio blew out the four lamps that were still burning. “They’re all out.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Janie announced. “Okay, it might take your eyes a while to adjust to the darkness, so just relax and get used to the new environment. Believe me, even when you think there is no light at all, you’re seeing a great deal more than I do.”

  The dark, which a few hours before had seemed so frightening, now brought a soothing, almost healing spirit. Even from his precarious perch, Lije felt somewhat safe in the blanket of blackness. As the moments crept by, all of his senses became accustomed to the new world around him. He suddenly noted fresh dynamics and elements in this strange subterranean prison. The spring, which earlier he couldn’t hear, now happily bubbled in the background. Frogs that probably lived in that water and were as blind as Janie were chirping. How had he missed them before? He could also now hear the breathing of each member of his group. For the first time he noticed that Cathcart’s breaths created a slight rasp and McGee’s breathing seemed to project a faint whistling.

  The smells that filled his head were different too. The oil from the lanterns, the dampness from the water, and even the faint essence of the aftershave he had put on that morning were things he had failed to notice before. Clinging to these new sensations caused him to wonder just how keenly developed Janie’s senses were. How many things did she note each moment of her life that he missed? He was so overwhelmed by that thought he almost failed to hear Janie’s whisper.

  “Do you remember where you felt the crack?”

  Shaken back to reality, he said, “Yes, I put my hand back on it.”

  “Move it and tell me what you see.”

  Lije eased his palm from the wall. What greeted him was a thin ray of light. As he focused on the barely discernible bright spot in the darkness, she asked, “Do you see it?”

  “It’s daylight from the outside world.”

  “Look to your left and right. You’ll see more.”

  Slowly moving his eyes from side to side, he saw what a few minutes ago had not been there. He marveled at the transformation. “There are scores of little cracks of light. Do you see them down there?”

  “Yes,” Curtis replied, “I do.”

  “So do I,” the other two chimed in.

  “Okay, you all can relight the lanterns,” Janie said. “And Lije, you and I can get back on the ground. I think you’ll feel far more secure down there.”

  By the time he and Janie had joined their comrades, the lamps were again illuminating the walls and a new sense of hope rained down on the group. Each now believed there just might be a way out. Their home world was not that far away.

  As McGee and Cathcart climbed onto the cowcatcher, tapping on the wall in an effort to estimate its th
ickness, Lije looked into Janie’s face. In the soft yellow light, her features were almost angelic. A few hours ago, he felt that he’d been placed on the river at just the right moment to save her. Now it seemed more likely that she was the guardian angel sent to save them.

  “Pretty amazing,” he whispered.

  “What is? ” she asked.

  “It took a blind person to see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  A look of bemusement crossed her face. “Nothing amazing about it at all. It happens all the time. Of course, seeing freedom and actually finding a path to it are two different things entirely.”

  JANIE WAS SORTING THROUGH STUFF IN THE OLD train’s caboose, looking for anything that might help them break through the cave’s thin back wall, when McGee joined her.

  “Nobody knows we’re in this cave … except the men shooting at us,” McGee said.

  “Are you giving up? ” Janie asked.

  “No, but I’m at a loss right now. If you knew my friends, they would tell you I’m the guy with all the ideas. Do you know how frustrating it is not to have one? You’d think in the age of cell phones and wireless internet I could rig a way to get a message to the outside world. I’m kind of a techno geek, but here I’m about as helpless as the men who died at that table in the railroad car. I’m out of my element.”

  “We all are,” Janie said. “Though I might have a bit more of an advantage here than any of you. Still, it’s hard to order a pizza and have it delivered in a cave. And wouldn’t a thin-crust Canadian bacon and sausage hit the spot right now?”

  She was hoping her remarks would elicit a laugh or at least a snicker, but they didn’t. Instead, McGee seemed to grow even more serious.

  “Did y’all find anything useful on the other cars? ” she asked.

  “You’d think there would have been some kind of large tools somewhere on this train,” McGee said, “but there are none. Not even a sledgehammer. I mean, what’s an antique train without a six-pound hammer?”

  “If the professor’s theory is right,” Janie said, “they used the shovels and picks to bury the rails. When they finished burying the rails, they either left them on the bank or tossed them in the water. We’ll find a way to break through that wall. I’m sure of it.” She wanted him to believe it too, but he wasn’t ready to believe in miracles, at least not yet.