The Superintendent says we need to roll longer trains. “More cars!” he says. “Lots of engines!”
The Superintendent says we need to roll longer trains. “More cars!” he says. “Lots of engines!”
ben nascar 120 laps 300 laps 367 laps 349 laps
The Superintendent is five. He likes to do things The Conductor likes to do.
How to be a nascar champion first get in a racecar and start driving run a few laps then get in the same car in a race
mabey 200 laps or 400 laps I dont know but you half to run a full season I race on my game all the time
I just iove playing my game so much aspechuley with my brother the game also has a season you can run I have
nascar the game inside line you can do road racing or oval racing if you dont want to run a season
you can run single race or moltiplayer
published on 2 10 13
The Conductor is in first grade. He likes to run trains when he’s not racing.
Paperwork complete and signals clear, Annie’s hand was reaching for the throttle when the radio chirped and Javier gestured for her to wait.
“Looks like we got a late add,” the conductor said, poking the touch screen of his onboard computer. “Just two. Couple of boxcars for us to drop at … Herbst? Is that right?”
“Herbst Junction?” Annie wrinkled her brow. “Really?”
“That’s what it says,” Javier keyed the mic and radioed the tower.
Herbst Junction was a tourist stop on the border of Many Lost Ways National Park. Backpackers took the steam train from Salvation Point there to hike into the backcountry. Crews used the short siding there as a runaround when sorting cars for the Flagstaff local, and occasionally as overflow when the Red Earth Co-op siding got crowded. But Herbst Junction was almost never listed as a destination for freight.
“Yardmaster says it’s right,” Javier reported. “Looks like … ‘mechanical equipment,’ no other description. Light loads – only five tons per car. This is weird.”
“Well,” Annie sighed. “At least they’ll be a couple thousand feet behind us.”
* * *
TJ looked over the river to the spot where his raft had disappeared into the current, then paced to the edge of the trees and stared in the direction Sarah Willoughby had fled.
He had a decision to make.
On an ordinary day, he could sit on the riverbank and within a couple of hours a raft trip would come by and pick him up. But there were no trips today, and he wasn’t sure there would be any tomorrow. He could follow the river on foot, a good 12 or 15 miles to the takeout at Herbst Junction, but the trail was iffy at best. He could turn inland to the backcountry and hope to come across the searchers.
Or he could try to follow the Senator’s daughter.
He breathed deeply for a moment, then plunged into the trees.
Tall and lean, and in reasonably good shape, he would have no trouble running down the presumably exhausted girl, if he went in the right direction. He scanned about for trails and saw at least five possibilities. Would she have gone uphill? Would she stick to the river? Would she stay in the cover of the trees?
TJ imagined a true outdoorsman would have useful insight, and he chastized himself for lacking such clarity. It was a conversation that constantly raged in the back of his mind – a small voice insisting that he belonged in a cubicle after all. He was constantly working to convince himself that he was strong enough, smart enough, clever enough to live this independent, unconventional life. Moving to the wilderness and living on the fringe wasn’t a lark. He was the real deal. He repeated it to himself over and over, but didn’t really believe it.
He wondered where Annie was, and wished she were with him. He wished he could ask her advice. She would know precisely which trail to follow. But if she had been along, he considered, they would probably be paddling home with Sarah Willoughby right now instead of wandering the woods with no way to even call for help.
He decided on the path of least resistance, not because he reasoned that she would, but to preserve his own energies. He jogged along the flattest path, which ran close to the river just inside the trees. He rounded a corner and for the second time in an hour came across Sarah, leaning against a tree.
She hadn’t seen him. She was 50 feet up the trail, tucked to the side in the shade, a bulky satellite phone to her ear. It took TJ a moment to realize it. A phone! His own cell phone was probably at the bottom of the river by now, but even if he had it he wasn’t likely to get a signal here. Hers seemed to be working.
It only took him a moment to decide – he would simply overpower her, take the phone, hold her down while he summoned help.
“Yeah, sure you will,” he told himself, doubt taking hold.
But his feet were already thundering down the trail.
Mayer sat in his makeshift lab, turning a small plastic baggie filled with red sand between the thumb and forefinger on his right hand, pressing a cell phone to his ear with his left.
“The soil analysis is complete,” he reported. “Good levels of chalcopyrite, some bornite…”
“I don’t need a geology lesson. Is it going to be worth doing what they want to do?”
Mayer looked at the ceiling. Was it going to be worth it? Mayer had studied the Lost Ways strata for more than 15 years, first as an undergraduate. He fell in love with the place, like so many who went there did – especially The Column. Like Half Dome at Yosemite or the Garden Wall at Glacier, it was famous among outdoor types. Sacred. Magical. He’d given his career to that rock outrcopping. He’d spent summers with the USGS there. He had published a dozen papers about it. He had led field trips and digs. He’d given lectures.
And he hadn’t made a dime.
“We’ll all make millions,” he said.
“Good. How soon will it start?”
“The field sensors your people installed worked perfectly,” Mayer said. “I’ve completed the computer model and will have a blast plan and excavation plan by tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll get the supplies shipped. Get up there as soon as you can. Those search party volunteers are still crawling all over the place, you should be able to get in without a permit. I don’t think they’re even asking for anybody’s name.”
“Have they found any sign of the girl?” Mayer asked.
“She was told not to be found.”
* * *
Sarah Willoughby sat with her back against a tree trunk, her head slumped to the side with a tangle of dishwater hair over her face. She wore a dirty blue sweatshirt and khaki shorts, and a black backpack leaned against her shoulder. Grass and leaves were matted into her hair and clothing. Her shins were covered with bruises and scrapes.
TJ, like most people, had never discovered a body before. He approached apprehensively, taking one step, pausing, studying, then forcing himself to take another step. Then she stirred, and he took several quick steps backward.
“Hey, hey are you OK?” he called, gathering himself. “Are you Sarah?”
She lifted her head, rubbed her eyes, squinted at him.
Then she swore.
“Who are you?” she half asked, half scolded. “How did you get out here?”
She looked at him as though he had walked in on her in the shower.
“I was rafting.” He motioned toward the riverbank. “Are you hurt? Do you need … like, blankets or something?”
She looked at him, confused, drowsy, grumpy. Several seconds passed.
“I could use some water if you have some.”
He jogged back to the raft and returned with his bottle. She was pulling herself up, brushing off the debris.
“So are you Sarah Willoughby?” he asked. “Did you jump from the plane or …?”
She stretched her arms out in front of her then gathered her hair into a ponytail. She looked at the ground for a long moment, then sighed and looked into TJ’s face.
“I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m really thirsty, and I’m in a heck of a lot of trouble,” she said. “If I tell you I’m Sarah Willoughby, I think that gets you in trouble, too.”
TJ stared back. He blinked and handed her the water bottle. She took a long drink.
“I can help you,” he said. “I have a raft, we can be in Salvation Point in a couple of hours.”
“Getting me to Salvation Point right now is not exactly helping,” she said. “What would help is if you went away, and if anyone asks, you didn’t see me.”
“I can’t do that!” His voice was incredulous. “Half the world is looking for you, mostly because I saw you jump from an airplane.”
“At least I was right about that,” he added to himself.
She laughed a dismissive laugh.
“Yes, look at me here in my parachuting gear,” she rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t on an airplane. I hiked out here. Look, if you want to help me, go away.”
TJ was baffled. He could only stare.
“So you’re running away?” he asked. “Disappearing? I can relate to that.”
She just shook her head. They looked at each other with irritated, confused expressions.
“Go. Away.” She hefted the words at TJ like heavy objects.
“I can’t just leave you out here,” he said. “You don’t look good. You’re dehydrated. Let me take you home and I’m sure you can work out whatever trouble you’re in.”
“Not likely.” She took another long drink. “You seem like a nice guy. Eagle Scout even. But this isn’t normal trouble, OK? This is fake plane crash, pretend you’re dead, won’t be long until you really are kind of trouble.”
“Wait, you faked the plane crash?” TJ’s eyes were wide. “How do you fake a plane crash?”
“I didn’t,” she said flatly. “My dad did.”
She swore again, took another drink.
“Look, if we keep talking you’re going to be in over your head. Seriously, get back in your boat and go away.”
“I think I’m in over my head already.” He slumped on a rock, and another long, quiet moment passed.
“I get it that you don’t want me to help you,” he put his hands up. “But if I just leave you out here, I’ll never forgive myself for what happens to you. Why …”
She cut him off. “Why is none of your business.”
“Why is my business!” He was getting animated, which was rare. “You’re going to be in the news for a while, and my name seems to pop up when they talk about you. There are a couple hundred people wandering around this park because I said I saw something. Like it or not, I got involved in your drama long before I found you here. You owe me an explanation.”
She sat on a rock across from him and stared at the label on the water bottle. She drank the last of the water, sighed, and stared at the dirt between her boots.
“Would you believe me,” she started, looking up at him, “if I told you that my dad was involved in a conspiracy to secretly start mining copper out of Many Lost Ways National Park, and that the plane crash and my little disappearance here are supposed to distract everyone while he does it?”
TJ shook is head. “No. I don’t believe you. Try again.”
“That’s the truth,” she shrugged, and swore once again. “Alright, you asked. I told you to go away but you asked, so I’ll tell you. If knowing gets you killed, that’s on you.”
She took a deep breath, swore one more time.
“I got into some trouble at school. Something that could have put me in jail for long time. My dad got me out of it but ended up owing favors to people more powerful than him.”
“People who can crash planes,” TJ said.
“People who can crash planes by remote control,” she said. “And make people disappear. In order to not permanently disappear, my job was to wander around out here for a couple of days, but not get found. I’m supposed to get picked up by some of Dad’s people, I guess. That part’s pretty fuzzy.”
“So what happens while you’re wandering around out here?” TJ asked.
“That’s fuzzy, too,” she said. “Dad wanted to confirm that there was actually something worth mining out here, so there was some field station set up. If anybody came across it and got nosy, the search for me was supposed to be the cover. The equipment was on the plane and was supposed to be dropped before it crashed. It was all pretty high-tech. Pentagon stuff. Two people were supposed to hike up there to set it all up.”
“The Howes,” TJ said. He suddenly felt sick.
“Who?” Sarah asked.
“There were two people on my raft trip when the plane crashed,” he explained. “They told me they were Paul and Lillian Howe, and they went into the backcounty looking for you.”
“Dude, Paul and Lillian Howe disappeared like ninety years ago.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Everybody knows that.”
“Yeah, thanks, I found that out,” he said. “But a secret copper mine? That makes no sense. How do you keep that secret? And how can that be worth all this trouble?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m sure there’s more to it, but that’s all Dad shared with me.”
They sat in silence for several minutes.
“So, what now?” TJ asked.
“Well, I don’t know about you.” She rummaged through her pack. “I’m supposed to be missing, so I’m going to disappear.”
“I have to tell people that I found you,” TJ said.
“I figured you’d say that.” She pulled a multitool from her pack and opened it, quickly walking to TJ’s raft. She held the tool above her head, then plunged the knife blade into the inflatable. A sickening hiss filled the air. Then she pushed the raft – loaded with TJ’s pack, extra water, his phone – into the current. He stood stunned as the small blue craft swirled in the water, then snagged on a rock 30 feet from shore. As the last of the air escaped, the raft melted into the river and disappeared.
“I hope you find somebody to tell!” Sarah Willoughby called as she sprinted into the trees and disappeared.
fcfl railroad has nice features
fcfl fcfl locomotive
it has a river
The Superintendent just turned five. He also likes trains and racecars, and we wouldn’t dream of running trains without him either.