Locomotive to the Past by George Schultz (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

the large closet, in the drab living room. It pivoted out (usually, reluctantly) on one steel “sort of swivel”. The sturdy piece of hardware was mounted about halfway up the door’s molding. Our Boy did have “the damn bed”—as well as the entire closet. Every inch of that stupid closet. But, that was about it! And he’d always worried about the “swivel” giving way—sooner or later. So far, though—so good!

Truth to tell, Sheila’s reluctance to accept those glorious trains was actually understandable. Her son was forced—to admit that inescapable, heart-breaking, fact. Still, missing out on the remarkable locomotives—with all those wondrous engines, and tenders, and tanker cars, and passenger cars, and cabooses—well, it was yet another dream that had been dashed! One more—in a seemingly-never-ending series! Yet another unfulfilled vision! Just one more setback! One of many! So damn many! A multitude of them! A most-hoped-for triumph! One that would never be fulfilled! Could never be fulfilled! Ever!

Just simply one more damnable frustration—for the ol’ ever-present discouragement-laden dung heap! The “pile of shit”—which had been growing, by leaps and bounds, over the past few years! Hell—for all his life! A totally crappy situation!

And, it was undeniable! The “crappy” condition had been with him—for all his life! He’d never really known anything else! Always a frightening (and unrelentingly-discouraging) thought! And nothing—was likely to change! Not anytime soon, anyway! If ever!

Continuing to schlep, for some reason or another, along Michigan Avenue—on that horribly-depressing 9/11—Jason had continued to experience these unshakable. particularly-bleak, emotions! More so than usual. Much more so than usual. It was bad enough, of course, to feel so—so terribly alone! But, at that point, for some reason, he was feeling threatened! Horribly threatened! At particular risk! And not only from a personal standpoint.

Hell, he’d always felt threatened! In one way or another! In his own personal life. And, most of the time, he didn’t really know why. But, this was a very-different feeling, of endangerment! This newfound fear—this strange dread—this appeared to be directed, toward the entire country!

Who knew what specific horrors—that the catastrophe, which had just been so ruthlessly visited, on the twin towers—actually portended? Was there some Satan-like despot behind all of this? Some treacherous, homicidal, maniac? Some mad, power-hungry, lunatic? Some high-tech Adolph Hitler? Lurking—and grinning broadly—somewhere? Probably well behind the scenes? Possibly someone he’d never even heard of? Probably someone he’d never heard of? Someone that no one had ever heard of? Some madman? Or some mad woman? Some subhuman—whom almost no one had ever paid attention to?

Could there be some unimaginably-warped individual? A devil-possessed butcher? One who was about to launch—even an unimaginable nuclear strike? A chemical strike? Against Los Angeles? Against Chicago? Against Detroit? Against Philadelphia? Against Atlanta? Against Houston—where the NASA headquarters is located? Against anywhere?

Against Washington? Well, that probably wasn’t very likely. It had already been tried! That very day, as a matter of fact! Fortunately, the God-awful hit—on the Pentagon, itself—seemed to give every indication, of not being nearly as successful, as the travesty committed on the WTC, in New York.

Of course, there had been that—star-crossed—fourth plane! The one carrying, among others, the brilliant Barbara Olsen! That aircraft had, thankfully, crashed! Had been brought down, in some unpopulated pastureland—somewhere in western Pennsylvania! Driven into the ground—by a group, of unbelievably-heroic passengers, aboard the ill-fated craft!

It was being commonly bandied about—that the plane’s destination had actually been the Capitol building! Or maybe even The White House! Dear Lord! The out and out courage—of those remarkable passengers—would not be known, for some little while!

What would/could be next? The Statue of Liberty? The Lincoln Memorial? The Washington Monument? The Empire State Building? The Sears Tower, in Chicago? The Library Tower, in Los Angeles? The Penobscot Building—or the Renaissance Center—in Detroit? How much more devastating could things get? Worse yet, did anyone really care? Outside of those tragically-condemned people—those unfortunate souls, who were directly affected—did anyone give a real damn?

He wished—more than ever—that he could gain much-needed counsel from Grandpa Piepczyk. Would be able to talk to him! Just once! God knows, he would be able to advise Jason—as to what to think! What to make—of all of these many horrors, of the past few hours! And, maybe, what might even be happening elsewhere! At, possibly, that precise moment! Or, at least, what may have transpired—since Jason had been forced to leave the stupid coffee shop!

He’d not seen a television, since then. And, given his obviously-poor conception of time, many other monstrous things could well have occurred! It was nigh impossible—to even begin to fathom the literal hell that had already been inflicted, on the country!

Or maybe even the city! This city! The Detroit metropolitan area! Would the Penobscot Building still be standing? Could it still be standing? The Fisher Building, on Second Avenue and West Grand Boulevard? Could those wonderful old buildings still be standing? Could other unspeakable atrocities have happened—since the spectacular, devil-inspired, carnage, in New York?

The young man could hardly believe how far he had walked! And in such a remarkably short period of time! Well, apparently—in a remarkably short period of time! He was now—already—well past Southfield. Maybe even halfway—to Greenfield. In his mind, it was physically impossible—for anyone—to have walked that far! Certainly, not that quickly!

Everything—simply everything—had become totally surreal! Bizarre! He’d heard of such things—as being in a “parallel universe”. He didn’t really know, exactly, what that meant. But, was it possible that he, Jason Rutkowski, had managed such a far-out maneuver? Had he, unwittingly. entered into—some sort of fourth dimension? The well-known “Twilight Zone”? That was simply the kind of stuff—that you saw, only in science fiction movies! But, could such a thing really happen? Could it? Actually?

Science fiction—and Grandpa Piepczyk! The old man had reflected—had spoken, more than a few times—of time travel. That—Jason had always thought—was a definite part, of science fiction!

But, the way his mind was “functioning”—on that troubled day—the young man was beginning to be flat-out blitzed! Overwhelmed—by an amazing variety, of