Despite the struggling economy, southern Louisiana continued chugging along. Quite a few pennies could be made by an entrepreneur with a quick mind and a little luck. No truer an example existed than the Downhill Freight Company in the heart of Dominican Parish.

On the first floor of a two-story building sat the main office. Inside the office sat a man with a few extra pounds around the midsection and a few less nerves hidden beneath the skin.

The sudden knock upon the door rattled the man as he sorted some scattered papers. "Come in, please," Ryan Lewis said.

A tall man with a lanky build opened the door. He adjusted his cap upon his head, hiding his thinning black hair. "You wanted to see me, sir?" switchman Augustus Jordan asked nervously, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

Ryan paused from his work as he faced Augustus, whose face lacked the humor of someone twice his age.

"AJ, my boy, we need to discuss some things."

AJ trembled as he stood before his boss, so much so that he held on to the doorknob, lest he fall.

"Relax, son," Ryan continued, sensing the stress in AJ's face. "Grain, petroleum, and natural gas are in high demand in our area. If I can get a contract with Ballard Chemical and the Bartlett grain elevator, it will mean big business for all of us. Our yard only has four GE seventy-ton diesel switchers. My question to you is, if need be, can we make runs to Jacob Parish, to the Gouldsboro yard under the Greater New Orleans Bridge?"

AJ pondered Ryan's question, scratching his chin while the strength in his legs returned. "Well, the switchers we have are custom-made for building trains, shuffling freight cars around in the yard, and those types of services. If by some chance we did get an order for a sixty-five-car train, empty or loaded, it will take all four locomotives to move it successfully."

"Great," Ryan said as AJ walked back out to the yard.

* * *

Conductors Robert Stake, John Roberts, and Justin Bruce stood around making small talk while they waited for AJ to return. As he turned the corner, the men straightened their postures.

"I sure hope that was good news," John stated as his weathered hands reached into his pockets.

"Yeah, man, what kind of bullshit happened in there?" Robert asked, his large nose wrinkling as he sneered.

The men's chatter bunched together, giving AJ a headache as he failed to lock on to any one train of thought.

"Shut the fuck up. It's not a definite yet, but if we get a contract with the oil refinery and grain elevator, instead of spending our days in this dusty rail yard, we can make runs to Jacob Parish, pick up and drop off cars in the Gouldsboro yard, and then transport them to the chemical plant or grain elevator."

The short, quiet man between John and Robert raised his hand. "When are we going to know something?"

"Damn it, Justin, I don't know, but I will keep everyone posted."

The men nodded and returned to their jobs, a little happier but wary.

* * *

On Friday morning, Ryan called the men into the office for a meeting. AJ hid his crossed fingers as he hoped for good news.

"Gentlemen, we have just signed a contract with Ballard Chemical, along with Bartlett. This means that instead of building trains and having another railroad company transport the cars to their destinations, we will transport the cars ourselves; our company will make more profit."

"Can you elaborate, sir?" asked Justin.

"The tank cars will be picked up from the chemical plant and delivered forty-five miles southwest of Downhill Freight to the Gouldsboro yard in Jacob Parish. From Gouldsboro, the cars will be taken to Ballard Chemical and Bartlett."

The men nodded, their spirits a bit higher than in days past.

"Our yard here has a capacity of 150 cars, with seven storage tracks that stretch for miles. The main line will always remain clear for inbound and outbound trains," Ryan explained.

"How soon do we start?"

"This is our first order," Ryan said, handing the waybill and release documents to Justin.

"The chemical plant needs thirty-five loaded tankers with various types of cargo delivered to the Gouldsboro yard this afternoon. John and Justin, take AJ along with you to make the run."

AJ interrupted, "Sir, I don't want to sound like a know-it-all, but this is going to take three of our four switchers."

"Leave Engine 243 here, and I will help Robert shuffle cars in the yard."

* * *

The three men rounded up the locomotives, connecting the couplers, attaching and plugging in a jumper cable, the air brake lines, and MU hoses from the first engine. Each engine was equipped with a portable reverse handle so that the engine could move in both directions.

The men made their final inspections, and the three-locomotive army headed to Ballard Chemical. The first engine was in control of the other two engines. On a cool November morning, a scenic ride through the country set the stage for serenity. Holding a steady speed of thirty miles per hour, the men passed farmland, oil wells, and a few spurs that led to no-man's-land.

John pointed at a distant sign. "Is that we?"

Pure Oil Industries 7 miles ahead

"No, dumbass. Look at your data sheet. Our destination is well beyond that point," AJ said.

The men paid no attention to the sign: "Loading platform ahead. Decrease speed to 5 mph." By luck, AJ quickly avoided disaster by setting the independent brakes to slow down the engines.

The main line branched off into a five-track storage yard filled with various tank cars.

AJ turned his head. "Take it easy, man; you don't see the three-track loading platform up ahead!"

The conductors said nothing as AJ took the controls and waved to the guard as they passed through.

"Rather strange that the loading area is on the main line," John remarked.

AJ waved a dismissive hand. "A little, but in these refineries, safety is the number one priority."

The three Downhill Freight switchers stayed on the main line as they entered the two-mile-long metal tunnel with wall-to-wall overhead pipes and walkways.

Midway through the loading area, a call came over the CB radio.

"Hey, guys, it's Ryan. Are you close to the refinery?"

Justin answered, "We are exiting the main line loading area at Pure Oil now."

"Good. You'll be there in about twenty-five miles. The gatekeeper is expecting you."

As the engines exited the metal jungle, the men saw the tall chemical tanks and main offices in the distance. Back in the country once more, the crew saw another siding blocked by a wooden barricade. Overgrown weeds covered the sign's faded message, and a termite infestation buzzed with activity.

An eerie overcast overtook the once blue sky. Highway 23, which ran parallel to the tracks, suddenly had no traffic. The sounds of the world—birds chirping, wind blowing through trees—had stopped as though someone had put time on hold. Even the pulsing sound from the locomotives seemed muted. As the three engines approached a siding, they proceeded with caution at a slower speed.

Justin squinted as a large sign came into view. "Does that sign say 'Bear Beer'?"

AJ turned his head. "Yup."

"Oh, hell, yeah! Beer!" Justin shouted as the train eased its way through Sunset Bend.

John was the only one not spooked by the stillness of everything. He was more...