The Jigsaw Man (38 page)

As if to confirm my deduction, the train whistle

blared again, louder this t i m e , m a k i n g me j u m p and

twist my bad knee again. I fell to the ground between

the tracks and tried getting back up but it hurt like a

bugger and wasn't really worth the effort. I made it to a

sitting position, straddling the one rail, and decided to

stay there. I'd be less likely to be seen low to the ground

like this, and the engineer wouldn't slam on the brakes

to try stopping the train. I wanted him going -full bore

when we had our first kiss. It had to be less painful that

way, and the damage to my body would be much greater.

Especially the way I was sitting, one leg on either side of

the rail.

The whistle had sounded off to my left, and just now

I could see the front cowcatcher and the louvered steel

radiator grille of the big diesel engine rumble into view.

Despite the curve, I had a fairly unimpeded line of sight

in that direction but it was still hard to tell how far away

the train was, or how long I had until it was on top of

me. All I could do was wait it out.

Do you really want to do it this way?

Good question. I was nervous and scared. There was

no sense denying that. Far more scared than I'd been

on the Carver Street tracks back in Buffalo. There was

no reason why—I was more than ready to die, glad I

might finally be helping Arlene, and more than a little

excited about the possibility of seeing my wife and son

again—but deliberately sitting in the path of a speed¬

ing locomotive takes a lot of balls and makes even the

bravest of men rethink their plans.

Maybe I should just shoot myself now, let the train destroy

my body when I'm already dead and gone.

N o w that was tempting, but it might not work. I

wasn't a big guy and I was seriously worried I'd fall be¬

tween the tracks and the train would scoot right over

the top without touching me. It might clip a leg or a

foot off, but again, that would leave the scientists more

of me than was acceptable. N o , I'd come this far; I was

determined to see it through to the end.

As far back as I can remember, even as a y o u n g boy,

I'd always loved trains, and being run over by one wasn't

as bad of a way to die as you might think. The after¬

math is nasty, absolutely, but death would be instanta¬

neous and relatively painless. One quick
SLAM,
and

it's over. My body might be strewn over a mile of track,

but my suffering would only last a second. That's not so

bad. I could get through that.

The train was getting closer, smoking along the track,

maybe two hundred yards away.
I
closed my eyes and

tried to conjure up a picture of Jackie, thinking the sight

of my wife would be the perfect way to end things, but

I couldn't do it knowing the train was barreling down

on me the way it was. I couldn't keep my eyes closed,

some masochistic need forcing me to watch my death

approaching.

One hundred and twenty yards to go.

So far there'd been no whistles or the shrill screech

of brakes to indicate that anyone had spotted me. That

was good. At the speed they were traveling, even if some¬

one did see me sitting here, there wouldn't be enough

track left between us to safely stop the train now. We'd

passed the point of no return, as they say, which brought

a smile to my face. I'd suffered a lot in the last four and

a half years—from my family's tragic car accident, to

my subsequent downward spiral that left my daughter

hating me and me living on the streets, to my time in

Hell here with Dr. Marshall and D r a k e — and it was all

finally coming to an end. It should have ended back in

Buffalo, back before I let Drake and the promise of easy

wealth lure me into this crazy detour, but I wasn't even

unhappy about that mistake.

If I'd killed myself as originally planned, Dr. Mar¬

shall and Drake would still be alive, carrying on their

warped sense of scientific advancement for years—maybe

decades—to come. Countless people would have suf¬

fered and died at their cruel hands, but that wouldn't

happen now I didn't consider myself a hero, no way, but

I'd proven to myself
I
was more than the worthless ex¬

pendable burn they'd thought I was. It was useless to

think it now, but maybe my daughter would have been

proud of me. It made me feel better to think so, anyway.

Good-bye, Arlene. Take care of yourself, sweetie.

Fifty yards, and still coming hard.

There wasn't much left to say. N o t really. No words

of wisdom or epic conclusions about life sprang into

my head. My life didn't even flash in front of my eyes

the way you always hear it does at times like this. That

sucked. I'd been looking forward to that. I wasn't sure if

this was the end of everything, or perhaps the begin¬

n i n g of the next phase in my existence. I'd never been

big on religion, but in my heart of hearts I'd also never

really given up hope God was out there somewhere,

keeping an eye on me even if I wasn't worthy of his at¬

tention.

Thirty yards, and closing.

W i t h death racing toward me on multiple steel

wheels, and the wooden ties below me vibrating with the

approaching thunder, I began to pray. If anyone was

listening, I asked for only one thing. I wanted to hold

my wife and son in my arms again, hold Jackie and little

Daniel close and kiss them and try my best to apologize

for the damage I'd done. I'd made a mess of Arlene's life

but I'd outright destroyed theirs. They'd both deserved

far better than me but perhaps I could make it up to

them in the afterlife. For one chance at that, for a shot

at redemption in their eyes, I'd sit here and face a thou¬

sand trains. Ten thousand. Love can be funny that way.

Ten yards away.

Five yards.

Two.