Ch 9: Race and Fight

March 17th, 1995, 11:30 PM PT, Mile 2057, Amtrak Station, Las Vegas, NV

It was amazing to George, an incredible wonderment, how Union Pacific could manage to, over the course of a nine hour run, add two and a half hours to the delay of the train. I mean, to George it didn't even seem ... POSSIBLE. They waited for coal trains going 25 to pass them, and then the train had to slug in behind it.

It wasn't just conflict. It was Union Pacific intentionally delaying this train. They were delaying it to delay it. And he was pissed off about it. Amtrak was supposed to have preference. It was absolutely ridiculous that Union Pacific treated them this way.

Admittedly, one of the reasons he was sitting around fuming at Union Pacific was a desire to remove his mind from the prospect of Barry being on the train. Him being there was a problem, and exactly what he was doing during these long hours was beyond him. Will had said he had tried to buy a room from both Will and the conductor.

The conductor had come around to talk with them and George and Jill had explained why Barry should not be able to be in the sleeping car. Both Will and the conductor were afraid of a conflict- as was George. But he knew that a conflict couldn't be helped. He just needed to know what to do when it came.

But he was prepared. He had several plans of what to do, and he was tensed, ready at any second to need to act on them.

Will had just came down and told him that Barry had managed to scope out both the bedrooms and roomettes while Will was making up the last bedroom. So Barry knew that they were either on the lower floor of the car or not on the train. And that was bad, because if he managed to get in the car there was every chance that Barry would see them. And then you'd have a fight.

March 18th, 1995, 12:30 AM MT, Southwest Chief Mile 1812, 61 miles east of Kingman, AZ

Meanwhile, John was having trouble calculating this. The Southwest Chief was running fully on schedule. Meanwhile, what he had heard from the Amtrak conductor, who had been kind enough to find out for them, was that the Desert Wind was running 14 and a half hours late by this point, and they expected Union Pacific to not improve its time keeping- it would likely continue to massively lose time until the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe took over the train in Barstow.

He was starting to consider the very real possibility that the Southwest Chief would arrive into LAUPT before the Desert Wind. That would, at the very least, be interesting- considering that the Desert Wind had left Chicago nearly 26 hours earlier. It briefly made him smile. His former employer, even now, still knew how to move a passenger train through their system.

He decided that if that was to be the case, he would be waiting for them at the sleeping car door. He needed to be there for his son, even if his son was engaged in massive foolishness. He also started thinking about reconsidering his demands on how George should handle his life. He had never let other people influence the directions he took in life and it seemed almost hypocritical to require the same of his son.

Having decided that, John went to his attendant, asked for a wake up call no later than an hour before estimated arrival into Los Angeles, and joined Gretel on the bed, quickly falling asleep with the gentle motion of the train.

Slowly patrolling the general area, Arizona State Police car 54 and its two officers came to a stop at the rail crossing late in the night. They were tired and irritated by the delay caused by the approaching train. The lights had started going, followed by the tolling gong of the crossing bell. Metal barricade arms had come down from all four corners, blocking the chance to simply go around it.

In the distance, far in the distance, they saw the approaching headlight of a train locomotive. It was far away. They both silently sat and wondered if the gate crossing was not being a bit premature- the train was damned far away.

But they were both surprised by how quickly the light was approaching and the police officer, out of bored curiosity, switched on his radar system. By this time the ditch lights had started to blink through the night. The radar system had a hard time focusing on the train.

The ground started to rumble as the huge, massive Superliner train approached at incredible speed. The incredible speed of 102 mph, the radar screen now indicated. The thundering grew in intensity as the train hurtled toward them at triple-digit speed.

As if the engineer had suddenly seen the lights of the car in the road, it started to sound its air horn. He had started the call way too late. So late, in fact, that only the first two notes of "G" had been played before the lead engine shot through the grade crossing like a speeding bullet.

The sound as the caterwauling engine blew past could be likened to a sonic boom as the massive amount of air the engine displaced at over a 100 miles per hour assaulted the police car. It assaulted it with enough force, in fact, to move it backward several inches.

The police, their hearts beating almost as strongly as the F40's 10,320 cubic inch,16 cylinder diesel prime mover from the sudden noise, stared on as the huge passenger cars flew past. The light of their headlights gave an eerie effect as it gleamed on the stainless steel, highlighting the red, white and blue stripes. The scene filled both officers, hardened cops of many years experience, with awe.

As quickly as it started, it was over, the train retreating into the distance, its lights fading. Yet even as the gates lifted and they started to drive over the tracks, they heard the rails still hissing with the heat and pressure.

Note to my railfan readers: Yes, the speed limit on that stretch of track is 90 mph for passenger trains. Yes, the train was speeding significantly. This is entirely intentional, and also reflects that I have seen shots of GPS screens demonstrating that the Southwest Chief has briefly touched 100mph on this stretch of track.