Chasing Christmas

by Steven Hunt

  3

  The train’s whistle shattered the quietness of the frigid night like an opera singer shattering a crystal champagne flute with a piercing note. Reverberating across adjacent plowed fields, the blast served to send a bolt of energy through Teddy. Thoughts of his family finding him curled into a ball on the side of a train track, frozen to death, sickened him. Did he want to be remembered this way by his daughter? Dying a coward? Mandy deserved better and he didn’t want to be a source of embarrassment for her. His family didn’t deserve be the brunt of jokes because of him. Through the darkness he could see his wife and daughter as shining diamonds in the midst of huge piles of coal that had become his life.

  Deep within, the desire to die faded. The dark fog maintained its grip on his mind, growing stronger by the minute, but he vowed to not be servant to it as long as he remained in his right mind. The fog of doubt had a way of distorting the facts.

  There had to be something better out there. Things couldn’t get much worse.

  He stood to his feet, straining under the cloak of guilt and transgression that sought to keep him down.

  The approaching train’s powerful headlamp cut through the darkness like a scythe. What had once been lit only by moonlight now became bathed in a bright light. Deer leapt across the tracks in front of the engine as cattle in nearby pastures scattered away from the massive, iron horse. Shadows dancing as sinister stick men appeared on the trees, laughing and teasing him.

  Hiding to keep the train’s engineer from spotting him, Teddy backed into the thick brush lining the tracks as frost dampened his only pair of clothes. His tan corduroy coat and blue jeans soon were soaked by a thin layer of frost.

  Years ago he’d been known as an outstanding athlete, racing up and down the University of Missouri’s football field every Saturday. But a punishing tackle, by a linebacker from Oklahoma State University in the last game of his senior year, had fractured his femur and damaged his knee; an injury that caused him to limp from time to time.

  In addition to his leg and knee problems, age had taken a toll, softening his once-muscular body. He, however, refused to concede the logic and convinced himself that he remained as agile as he had ever been.

  Hearing the systematic klackity-klack of the train’s wheels as it approached his concealed position, Teddy psyched himself to sprint along the tracks before leaping into a vacant freight car. As he had done before each game, he formed a mental picture of himself boarding the train. The movie in his mind showed him running with the train before leaping like a deer into an open boxcar.

  Simple.

  The train’s destination didn’t matter as long as it was away from Jubilee.

  As the engine roared past, Teddy threw himself from the bushes, running with all the might his damaged knee could endure. The stench of burning diesel immediately assaulted his nasal passages, hampering his ability to breathe and causing his lungs to spasm. A spontaneous coughing fit erupted, threatening his capacity to gulp fresh air while slowing his pace.

  A combination of diesel suffocation and the biting, cold air stung his eyes much like the smoke from his burning car had done. He fought the urge to close them, to rub them, to soothe them until the demand became too unbearable to ignore.

  His peace depended on not quitting. Nothing else mattered.

  The train sped along the tracks faster than he’d imagined. He’d never been this close to a moving train before. He’d miscalculated its speed.

  His mouth gaped open to breathe while fighting the impelling need to gag. With the clumsy pumping of his legs across the rough terrain of the track’s shoulder, Teddy admitted for the first time that he was not as nimble as he’d once been. As his heart pounded and his lungs petitioned for a slower pace, a bright red warning flashed before his eyes.

  His mind had lied to him.

  Spotting a boxcar with an open door on a moving train at night proved more difficult than he’d imagined. The mile-long train sported cylinder-shaped tenders, hoppers, boxcars with solids sides, gondolas, and the ones with open slats which were mainly used to haul livestock. Taggers had taken upon themselves to decorate many of the tankers and solid-sided boxcars with graffiti of every color and size. As the train blurred passed, Teddy saw artistic messages proclaiming ‘LIL-S LUVS C-GIRL’ and ‘DHS RULZ.’

  As the train streaked along the track, the fog of confusion returned. Doubt consumed his mind. He’d only seen one open door, and he’d been too slow to get close to it. As another graffiti-decorated car zoomed by, he questioned if he’d have another chance. Hadn’t his life been sucked down the drain enough?

  “God, why are You so against me?” he muttered, fighting for breath.

  Huffing, choking, and fighting to keep the contents of his stomach intact and breathable air in his laboring lungs, Teddy chanced a glance behind him, spotting an open door ten cars behind and quickly approaching. It would be a difficult jump. But what choice did he have?

  There would only be one chance.

  Lengthening his stride while gritting his teeth, he pressed with everything he had to run faster. His exhausted legs pumped out of sheer will now. His breathing became more strained and rapid. Reaching for the open doorway, Teddy stretched as far as he could until the tendons in his arm and back screamed in rebellion.

  Just two more inches.

  Stre-e-e-etch.

  One more inch.

  Come on, Teddy. You can do it!

  His fingertips grazed the edge of the boxcar’s wooden door as the toe of his damaged leg clipped the top edge of a rail tie, sending his hurling frame sprawling face-first into the white, golf ball-sized gravel along the track. Throwing his hands in front of him, he saved his face from being shredded by millions of rocks, but succeeded in ripping his clothes and mutilating his palms into a bloody mess.

  “Nooooo!” he screamed, pounding the gravel with battered fists. The familiar feeling of failure flooded over him like an old friend, wrapping him like an infant in a warm blanket.

  The train—his transportation to peace—continued on its way.

  The fog of confusion demanded he give up.

  No sooner had the thought passed than an image of Mandy appeared in his mind. Tears stained her gentle, beautiful face as she stared at his lifeless body along the railroad tracks.

  The knot in the pit of his stomach returned, filled with turmoil and distress. “Aagggh” he screamed as the stomach cramps intensified. His injured leg and knee throbbed. The internal battle between the clutches of the depression and good continued to rage, evolving to a full-blown war. The fog controlled him with steel cuffs, but good fought back, even in its weakened state. Since depression had held him captive for such a long time did good even have a chance? Was he strong enough to defeat the darkness? Alone?

  Refusing to concede to the fog’s coaxing to quit, Teddy shot up like a sprinter bursting from the blocks, running harder than he had in years—or at least as fast as his bum leg would move. Spying another boxcar with an open door, Teddy ran with a limp at an angle toward it. His good leg bore the brunt of the dash, working extra hard to compensate for the bad one.

  He stretched for the door of a car that’d been decorated with a cryptic SPANKY in red and yellow spray paint.

  The train continuing along the rails mocked him. You can’t catch me. Klackity-klack. You can’t catch me. Klackity-klack.

  The putrid smell of the diesel—filling his lungs—tried to stop him.

  His fingertips grazed the wooden door.

  Inches separated him from peace. His outstretched arm couldn’t quite reach it and his bad leg wouldn’t last much longer. If that happened, he’d be done. Finished. He’d be destined to live with the cloak of failure wrapped around him for the rest of his miserable life.

  He watched as his best and final opportunity inched away from him.

  At the last possible second and with an animalistic cry erupting from his throat, Teddy threw himself at the opening. A do-or-die attempt with reckl
ess abandon. Either he would make the train or he’d be crushed underneath its massive steel wheels.

  As his body vaulted toward the opening, he grabbed frantically at the edge of the door with his bloody fingers. All the remaining energy quickly drained from his body like water gushing from a hydrant. Fatigue overwhelmed him. From his toes to his head, his strength slipped away.

  He watched in fear as one finger lost its grip.

  Then a second finger slipped.

  4

  Jane stomped on the brakes as her SUV skidded to a stop in the gravel driveway, spraying everything within ten feet with a fine shower of rock. Before the tires came to a standstill, Mandy bolted from the passenger door, rushing to the massive front porch of the large Colonial home. “Uncle Frank! Uncle Frank, are you in there?” she called, pounding on the door with both fists. Not a blood relative, she’d given Frank Bethel the honorary title when she was a toddler and had called him uncle ever since. Being her father’s business partner and best friend, he’d become a mainstay at their home, regularly sitting in on game nights and eating dinners with the family. Through the years, he’d become a bona fide member of the family—at least in Mandy’s eyes.

  The thick, wooden French doors with etched glass inserts opened as Jane stepped next to Mandy. Frank peeked out the door, a gray T-shirt stretched around his rotund belly. A fan of cream-filled snack cakes, Frank’s weight had doubled during the last ten years

  A crooked smile crossed his face. “Well, what a surprise!” he said as he stepped from behind the wooden door. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you two lovely ladies’ visit?”

  “Daddy’s missing,” Mandy said.

  His smile vanished as the color drained from his face. His bulky body sagged against the door jamb. “What do you mean, ‘missing’?”

  “Gone…disappeared…not able to be found.” Mandy rolled her eyes.

  He tilted his head as his brow furrowed. “Yes, Mandy, I know what missing means.” Jack plucked his shirt away from his ample stomach. As soon as he released it, it popped back to its original position. “I just had difficulty processing what you said. Shock, I’m sure. Come in. Tell me what happened.”

  Jane stepped around her daughter, but refrained from entering the house. “Have you heard from him, Frank?”

  He shook his head, vibrating his meaty jowls like a ripple on a pond. “Not for several weeks. The last time we spoke was at the office when I told him to go home. He’d been in a foul mood, refusing to do anything. That was what…four weeks ago?”

  “He didn’t telephone after”—Jane had trouble finding the words to her question—“the business…um, closed? To maybe find out how everything went?” She grabbed Mandy’s arm, leaning on her for support.

  “I called him to see if he wanted to help with the legal forms—you’d be surprised how many documents must be filed to close a business. We couldn’t just lock the door like I’d hoped. But, no. We had to fill out every paper, every memo, and every document in triplicate. I bet there were mounds of forms this high.” He held out his hand to the height of his chest. “You know, tax forms, the corporation commission’s paperwork, and all those other alphabet outfits who want their share of the pennies. But Teddy refused, saying it hurt too much to watch his dream grounded. He said he wanted to remember the company as it was—in its better days. I reminded him that he was the majority partner and it was his job, thinking that if he worked he might get his mind off the whole bankruptcy thing and all. It didn’t work. He hung up on me.”

  Mandy shrugged out of Jane’s grip before placing her hands on her hips. “So you’re claiming you haven’t seen or heard from him? Unbelievable! You were his partner and best friend! You should have made an effort to check on him when you noticed him acting depressed. That’s what friends do.”

  Frank looked at Mandy. His basset hound eyes drooped more than normal. “I know. I knew he wasn’t in a good place. You’re right, Mandy. I dropped the ball.”

  “It’s a little late now, isn’t it? He could be hurt or dead somewhere out there.” She pointed toward the thick forest that lined the house on three sides. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You might have been able to stop this if you’d just been a better friend.” Mandy swiped at the tears before turning to walk away.

  “Mandy, wait.” Frank called from behind her.

  She turned, facing him. “What? What else can you say? Your apologies don’t mean anything to me. You had the chance to prevent this and you failed. You and dad are just alike—only thinking of yourselves.”

  Frank looked at her for several moments. “All I can say is I’m sorry.” He stepped toward her. “I should have done more. He was my friend.”

  “Whatever.” She muttered “jerk” as she stomped from the house to the car.

  Jane turned her attention to Frank., “I’m sorry. She’s not taking this very well.”

  With his eyes still following Mandy, Frank’s shoulders drooped. “It’s OK. She’s right. And I’d probably act the same way if my dad was…” His voice trailed off.

  “Are you sure Teddy didn’t mention anything—anything at all—that would give us a clue to where he’s gone?”

  He turned to her. “What happened? I’m still a little confused.”

  She told him of Teddy’s mood plunge, his insomnia, fatigue, and loss of appetite. She mentioned his car being found after crashing down a mountain embankment and the police’s inability to find Teddy. “I need help, Frank. I know here”—she patted her heart—“that he’s alive. But he may be lying hurt in a ditch somewhere. I need to find him.”

  He nodded and sighed as he ran his hand through his unruly brown hair. “Try speaking to Pastor Joseph. He’s over at New Tabernacle. He used to be a social worker before he became a pastor and I know he taught a class on depression recently. If anyone knows anything about what’s happening to Teddy and how to help him, Pastor Joseph will.”

  “OK. Thanks, Frank.” Jane turned to go, but stopped when she felt Frank’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Jane, if something terrible has happened to him, you know I’ll be there for you.”

  She patted his hand, but he didn’t let go.

  “Time was not on my side the day we met,” he continued. “The only reason you’re with Teddy is because he saw you first.”

  Jane’s memory darted to their years at the University of Missouri. She’d met Teddy and Frank during a warm evening near the bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson on the Francis Quad. Teddy had been acting goofy, sitting on the bench next to Jefferson’s likeness with his arm around the former president’s bronze shoulders, pretending to read the book in the statue’s hands. When she approached, Teddy leapt up on the bench, reciting a portion of Jefferson’s second inaugural address with his right hand held high and his left tucked into his shirt. “It is my duty to express the deep sense I entertain of this new proof of confidence from my fellow citizens at large, and the zeal with which it inspires me, so to conduct myself as may best satisfy their just expectations.” His actions delivered the response he desired—her laughter. From that point Frank, Teddy, and she became inseparable, taking the same classes, eating at the same table, and spending almost every waking hour together.

  She turned toward him. “Frank! That’s not true and you know it.”

  “Aw, come on, Jane. If it had been me that jumped in Jefferson’s lap, you would’ve had eyes only for me.”

  “No.”

  “Then why have you been dropping hints?”

  “What hints?” Her mind flipped through the recent months, finding nothing that she considered a romantic pass.

  “You’ve been coming ’round here more often since the business closed. You pop in almost every evening—with or without Mandy. You’ve even made lame excuses for your coming here. And don’t forget your flirting.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “You have too.” He waved the argument away. “Anyway, I just wanted to assure you that if something has h
appened to Teddy, you can take comfort in knowing that I’ll be here to take care of you and Mandy.”

  Her mind swam with confusion and anger. “The reasons I came by are legit, and you know it. I needed your help—your business savvy—and I didn’t want to burden Teddy in his depressed state of mind. He had enough to think about with the death of his parents, the failing company, and the bank trying to take the…” She almost said “house” then thought better of it. It was none of Frank’s concern. “Like Mandy said, you were supposed to be his best friend! Teddy wasn’t in any mental condition to work and someone had to make money. I came here because I needed your help getting my real estate license and starting my new job.”

  “You know I’m always happy to help you and I know that’s the story you’ve told Mandy, but do we need to keep up appearances? Come on, Jane. There’s no one left to hide this from.”

  “There are no appearances, Frank!” She wasn’t sure when she’d clenched her fists, but now she held them so tight her fingernails cut into her palms. “And I object! My heart belongs to Teddy. Always has and always will. There’s not any room for another man.”

  Holding his hands up in front of him in a surrender posture, he took a step back. “OK, OK. Take it easy.”

  “Ahh,” she grunted as she turned her back, stomping like Mandy to her car. Also like Mandy, she muttered “jerk” as she left Frank standing on the porch.

  5

  Having summoned every bit of strength remaining in his body, Teddy beckoned each striation of muscle fiber to hold on. Muscles straining and threatening to give out from exertion, he slapped a hand onto the worn wooden and metal jamb, grasping with a death grip. With his teeth bared and pulling with his depleted arms, he heaved himself farther into the boxcar until he was able to shove an elbow behind the jamb.

  “Arrgh.”

  Panting, he threw his left leg over the opening onto the car’s filthy floor. Safe from falling at least for the moment, Teddy hung in suspension over the side, his right foot skimming the deadly, polished rail below.