Scene lights illuminated the railroad crossing. Firefighters rushed back and forth between the cars. The falling snow, illuminated by the floodlights, cast a pall over the stopped freight train. Boxcars loomed like the scaly back of an injured dragon. I cringed at memories of dodging freights. "Poor bastards." I said thinking of the people whose luck ran out.
Steve had pulled over and parked his car. "Come on, Let's take a look."
"We ain't getting close," I informed my friend. Fire-police held back the crowd.
"Professional privileges my friend," Steve quipped. "Our services may be needed."
"You greedy bastard," I laughed. "They don't need your services, they'd be better off cremated."
"You'd be surprised," Steve said hoping from the car.
The din of idling fire trucks, generators, and radio traffic overshadowed the buzz of speculation. My palms broke into a cold sweat as we approached the police car at the corner of Second and Main. Ever since Shannie's Miss Dead America stunt, I feared Big Dick Bradigan and seeing him leaning over the top of the cruiser did nothing to calm the unsettling feeling washing over me. "Just the man for the job," the cop said seeing Steve. "A double fatality. Volkswagen vs. Conrail, No positive ID on the victims. I'm running the tags now."
"A black GTI?" I asked, throat tightening around my words.
Bradigan looked at me. "Yeah," he answered. "You know 'em?"
"Shit," I cried. I bolted towards the railroad tracks calling her name. "SHANNIE!"
"Hey! Yo! Stop! Where do you think you're going?"
"James!" Steve's voice trailed. "Don't!"
Ignoring them, I ran past a firefighter returning from the other side of the resting dragon. I climbed between boxcars and dashed upon the horrid scene. A hundred odd feet south of Main Street, in the artificial light of another fire truck, Saphix lay sheered in half. Four firefighters worked over the wreckage.
Slowly, disbelieving, I approached the twisted mass. I stumbled over something, I threw my hands in front of me. Pain raced up my arms. I looked to see what I fell over. A blue tarp covered it. I bellowed a mute scream. A small white hand clenched into a fist protruded from the tarp. Kneeling next to her body, I watched my hand seek Shannie's. I wretched feeling its coldness. She couldn't be dead! I reached above her head to remove the tarp.
"Don't James!" A far away voice warned.