Chapter 2: Let the Fires Start

October 3rd, 1995, 6:38 PM CT, Mile 36, A mile out of Joliet, IL

“It’s hard to imagine you’re an adult now,” Jill said, nuzzling his arm gently, unbridled affection and love in her eyes.

“Don’t let my age fool you,” George told her, “I’m who I always was! Forever young, me hopes. And yeah, my dad’s been friends with him for ages, even if he is a Republican.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, “You’re getting old. Old old old.”

George was planning a retort but it was interrupted by the train’s PA system.

“First seating for dinner, please make your way to the dining car.”

They got up and walked out of their room, B, turned left, and walked the very short distance to the interconnecting door to the dining car. As they walked they continued their conversation.

“Your parents really gave you a hell of a party for your birthday. I was shocked at all the Amtrak and rail employees who came. I couldn’t believe George Pataki was there!”

“Yeah, my dad wasn’t kidding when he said they were friends,” George Caldwell replied, “They’ve been friends for years, even though my dad is generally more a Democrat, especially since they tend to have more of a message of supporting rail, despite the reality of the voting record. I hate politics in general, though.”

They stood waiting to be seated. A service attendant George did not know led them to a table. Shortly thereafter, a distinctly nerdy teenager looking to be about 18 years old sat across from them apparently also from their sleeping car. The attendant then sat a plain but shapely- and also somewhat nerdy woman of about the same age with very Arabic features from coach next to the guy. Neither of them looked comfortable with train procedures, specifically community seating.

“Hi, I’m George and this is my ... friend, Jill.” George introduced them.

“Pleased tuh meet yuh, I’m Josh.” the boy said.

If you could take all the stereotypes of a Brooklyn Jewish ghetto accent, if perhaps a tad off, you’d get a pretty good idea of what Josh sounded like. He also looked very Jewish, right down to the enormous honker that dominated his face. His eyes peaked from behind “birth-control” glasses- the type that guarantee you will never get laid.

“Are you from Brooklyn?” George asked, “You sound just like my mother, and she’s from Brooklyn.

“Queens, ackshully,” Josh said, “Fawhest Hills, is where I’m from.”

The girl was obviously very shy. She wore glasses and managed to look even more like a nerdy geek than Josh did- which took some doing. She was not particularly comely- some would even call her homely, although she boasted a decent figure.

“My name is Akilah, and I am very pleased to meet you, too,” She pronounced it Ah-keel-ah.

She had a distinct accent, which George could not place, although it was entirely comprehensible. More telling was the pure formality with which she spoke. George would bet good money she wasn’t American born, and was probably FOB- fresh off the boat. But, though she was fresh off the boat, she spoke formal English perfectly. She was either excellent at languages or came from a place where English was a common second language.

“Excuse me, Akilah, but I can’t quite place your accent,” George said. She was awkward to begin with, which normally would have been accentuated by the question. But George had his disarming smile on, so she smiled, too- a smile that lit up the whole car. She had a very genuine emotional presence to her, as if she didn’t know how to hide it. She’d probably make a terrible poker player.

“I am from the country of Palestine, the city of Gaza,” she said, perhaps a bit guardedly, as if she was aware that calling that area Palestine was not the most popular designation in the United States; most referred to Gaza as part of Israel.

Josh’s head shot to look at her. He had meant to have a look of mild scorn on his face for what he had initially thought was a mildly ugly woman- and now a Palestinian to boot. But the smile on her face made him melt. A large chunk of beauty comes from within; a woman who is ugly in repose in a picture can look beautiful in real life with vivacious personality; Akilah was such a woman. Conversely, a woman who looks beautiful posed for a picture can look horribly unattractive when their personality shows through ... for example, Jill’s Aunt Krista- or Christina Ricci.

“Yuh know, uh, well, uh,” Josh stammered for words, “Your, uh, people, dey, uh, are-”

“They are acting like childish fools,” Akilah snapped, “Just like your people are acting. Both sides are the same, hatred and anger blinding them to an easy solution.”

George interrupted, making sure to end any potential conflict, “You know, I have never heard someone describe it so succinctly, yet so accurately.”

“Yeah,” said Josh. Truth was, he took an instant like to this woman. Perhaps, though his parents would hate it, they might be friends. She seemed to be someone who told things like they were, said what she thought, without reservation, despite also somehow having a happy disposition. It was an unusual and truly lovely combination of personality traits- honesty, perceptiveness, and happiness.

“So, where are you folks headed?” George asked, bringing up less contentious topics.

“I was accepted into the California Institute of Technology,” Akilah said with obvious pride, “What some people call ‘CalTech’. And that is where I am going, to Los Angeles.”

“Yuh got into CalTech?” Josh said, “Of all de places yuh could go, tuh CalTech yuh go? Me too. I go to CalTech, too.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Jill’s giggling.

“What?” both CalTech students asked, with impressive simultaneity.

“You, hahaha, come fro- hahaohgodhahaha- the opposite ends of the wor- hahahahahaholyshithahaha- world to go to the same place.”

George was used to Jill’s excessive hilarity. But the others looked shocked.

“Jill is a very ... well, she’s very special,” he smiled, “Short-bus special.”

Jill glared at him, “Oh yeah? No se- uh, no fun for you.”

George had shot her a look that had made her quickly change her sentence. Josh had not caught the reference- observation of others was not one of his strengths. But Akilah, she was more observant. She had also seen a palpable romantic tension between the two. She made a note to explore this further at a later time. It didn’t make sense to her that a boy and girl with that kind of attachment would be traveling together on a train without escort from one or more parents.

The service attendant came over and took their orders. Not knowing who was running the show this time, George stuck with the safe choice of the half roast chicken. The service attendant was not the nicest person George had met on Amtrak. Sometimes you get crews that are simply exceptional, beautiful equipment in pristine order, and so on. Sometimes you get crappy everything. It was usually the former, but there were trains Amtrak ran because they had to, not because they wanted to. The scheduled nature of the Texas Eagle also meant that the crew turn didn’t provide the best pay, resulting in lower seniority crews running it. This was an example of somebody who would not be well appreciated by the better members of the union.

“This thing looks old. No wonder people don’t like Amtrak,” Josh commented.

“It is old. This car is a Hi-level diner originally built for Santa Fe’s El Capitan in 1956. Which means this car is 39 years old,” George continued. “Amtrak already ordered and received the equipment that is supposed to replace it, I’m surprised to see it in service.”

“You seem to know a lot about trains,” Akilah said.

Jill laughed, “Just a bit.”

“For sure,” admitted George, “My dad worked for the railroads and other train related things, and I’ve been moving around on trains my whole life. Heck, you should see our house in Los Angeles.”

“Big model train set?” Josh asked.

“Not a single one,” George told him, “You’d have to see it to understand.”

“You have a house in Los Angeles? That’s lucky, my parents didn’t set me up with a place to live,” Akilah said, “I was hoping to make friends with someone and find a place to live, or work for it. I was planning to first stay in the Mayfair Hotel for a few days while I find something.” She was a bit confused about the way George talked about it, the way he talked about it in the possessive plural, as if he shared it with Jill alone.

“Really, Akilah?” George said, “You don’t want to stay in the Mayfair, trust me, it’s a total dump, and a bad area, to boot. We have a pair of spare bedrooms in our house, and we aren’t far from the Mayfair. The bedrooms have good strong locks on them. They aren’t huge or anything, but they would probably serve your purpose, at least until you find something of your own.”

“No, I really-” Akilah started.

“Nonsense,” Jill cut her off, another mistake George looked at her for, “We really like helping our fellow traveller.”

It wasn’t that George minded her making decisions and so on. As far as he was concerned, what was his was hers, and she was free to invite and so on. But the fact was, she shouldn’t be in a position to make such comments, and he knew it would draw attention. He really liked that Jill was making friends with this couple; she didn’t normally make friends easily. George didn’t generally make friends with people his age either; he got along with people much older than him usually.

“Really, Akilah,” George cut in, “It’s no problem at all. It would be an honor to have a pretty, smart, woman like you as a guest in our home.”

“I’m not pretty,” she snorted, “But thank you so much.” Normally, Akilah’s upbringing would have suggested she not share a place with a man she didn’t know well. But she could tell, from the way they talked, and the way Jill felt she could offer the space, too somehow, that George and Jill were a serious couple. Her parents had not been very keen on her going to America for college, and despite the full scholarship, her budget was very limited at this point.

Josh then cut in, saying: “Darn, you’re a quick wawhkuh, Akilah. Yuh haven’t even got dere yet and already yuh find a place tuh stay, or what? Gavaldt! I’m gonna stay in a hotel until I find a place myself-”

“You will do no such thing,” George interrupted, and smiled “Like I said, we have two spare bedrooms. And Akilah, I’ll admit you aren’t pretty when you have no expression on your face- sorry, I’m a blunt person- but when you smile, you are very, very attractive.”

“I’ll say,” Josh imprudently agreed, “But George, really I don’t want to impose on you.”

“You won’t be imposing on me,” George said, “I really enjoy having company around. I get lonely. If I didn’t really want to share my place with you guys, I wouldn’t offer to, honest.”

The food got onto the table and they chowed down.

“Wow,” said Josh, “Dis is pretty good.” Josh had gotten the fish, while Jill had gotten the chicken, as had Akilah.

“No complaints here,” Jill affirmed, “This chicken is really tasty and soft.”

“I think the food is quite good, also,” said Akilah.

“I make it unanimous,” said George as he dug into the food in front of him.

“So, guys, why do you take the train?” Jill asked.

“Who wants tuh fly?” Josh asked, “My mudder doesn’t want me tuh fly, so I take de train.”

“They would not let me fly to this country,” Akilah said, “I took a ferry to Italy and then I took some trains to England, and then took the Queen Elizabeth 2 to New York City. Besides, this way I got a chance to see the world outside of where I live.”

“Very true,” said George, “Although if I were looking for scenery, this isn’t the train I’d take.”

“Why is this?” Akilah asked.

“It is not very scenic.” George explained, “It is mostly open plains and the southern desert.”

“I heard it had huge expanses of nothing,” Akilah said, “I have never seen such a thing before.”

“If that’s what you want to see, Akilah,” Jill replied, “You’ll see it in abundance.”

October 3rd, 1995, 6:45 PM EST, Amtrak offices, Washington, D.C.

“Hurricane Opal?” Thomas Downs asked, “What about it? We’ve had so many hurricanes this year that-”

“Sir, it’s predicted to hit around the Pensacola area tomorrow, almost exactly when both of the Sunset Limiteds will be passing that area-”

“Jesus,” Downs roared, “That’s just what we need. More equipment in the wrong places. Where is the westbound train now?”

“It’s running a touch late, as always,” the director of operations said. “It’s about half way between Sanford and DeLand.”

Downs consulted his maps and information. He had annulled the train too many times this year, and he was damned if he was going to do it again. There was substantial backlash among various parties against the number that had already happened; he had been accused of trying to kill the train. Besides with the current situation, he couldn’t annul it. He simply did not have the equipment to place more equipment in places it wasn’t supposed to be at this point. No, that train would have to, no matter what, make it to at least New Orleans, probably all the way to Los Angeles, actually.