The Black Train

CHAPTER FOUR I

Collier couldn’t remember what happened in the dream, but he remembered what it smelled like:

Urine.

He wakened from the nap aggravated and dry-mouthed. Yes, it was the smell of urine that permeated his slumber, and as he leaned up, he thought he recalled other details, not sights, but sounds.

A steady and nearly musical sound of metal striking metal. He thought of metal bars being clanged together, or hammers hitting steel. And something else, too…

A whistle?

Yeah. Like a whistle in a train yard.

He rarely dreamed at all, but when he did it was typically of things he could see: people, places. Not sounds and smells.

When he turned out of bed, he caught himself musing over, first, Lottie’s body, then Mrs. Butler’s.

Damn it!

A narrow night table stood by the desk, marbletopped. On it the clock told him it was 6:30 P.M. I invited Jiff to Cusher’s, didn’t I? At seven.

He roused, then showered in the small but homey bathroom.

Why smell piss in a dream?

More puzzlement, a chaser for the entire day. But a brief relief came when he thought again of the sounds. Metal striking metal. Hammers! Sledgehammers driving spikes—of course! This could only signify the sound of men laying railroad track, which made grateful sense since Mrs. Butler had mentioned something about Harwood Gast building a railroad in the late 1850s. Collier remembered the old paycheck in the case she’d shown him—a railroad check.

The East Tennessee and Georgia Railroad, he remembered. The whistle in the dream, too, could only have been a train whistle.

One mystery solved, however useless. Next, in the sudden daydream, he pictured himself in the shower…with Lottie…

If all this horniness is from the fresh air and great outdoors, then I’m MOVING here once Evelyn gets her divorce, he joked to himself. But he couldn’t laugh, for one thing still bothered him.

That smell…

One of Collier’s earliest childhood memories, regrettably, involved the smell of urine. He’d been about ten when his father had taken him for a long drive. “Come on, kiddo. We’re going to go visit Granddad at that special apartment he lives in.” Collier was too young to grasp the entire concept of nursing homes, but he got the idea. The whole place smelled bad and was very quiet save for distant shouts. “Here’s his room, son. Now, remember like I told you. Granddad hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and he might not recognize us. But let’s just act like everything’s normal.” Collier guessed Granddad wasn’t in very good shape. When they entered the drab room, though—Collier gagged, and so did his father. The room reeked of urine.

Granddad’s bed lay empty and stained yellow. Another man in the next bed, who looked like a gray skeleton, jerked his face right at them and toothlessly bellowed, “That fucker don’t do nothin’ but jabber and piss! Turned the damn bed into a damn piss sponge—” A bony finger wagged at them. “—and these lazy fucks here don’t never change the mattress ’cept when one of us dies!” Collier broke out in tears from the shocking rant, but he already had tears in his eyes from the sheer potency of the stench. Strong, saturated, and old. His father ushered him out quickly and that’s when they learned that Granddad had died that morning. Collier remembered riding home in strange, choking silence, eyes still stinging long after the tears had abated. Even their clothes reeked of the smell.

The same unmistakable smell of Collier’s dream, only the dream had been worse.

Collier stepped out of the shower. Now why the hell would my mind make me dream of the smell of piss!

He dried off, then slipped on the robe hanging on the door. Gold embroidery on scarlet terry read BRANCH LANDING INN with crossed cannons beneath the letters C.S.A. She really takes this Civil War stuff seriously.

He stepped back in the bedroom, and stopped.

Sniffed.

That’s not urine I smell…is it?

It was his mind now, he was sure. Like when you were in the woods and were certain you felt a tick on your leg but when you looked there was nothing there…

He sniffed again and found the only scent to be a cinnamonlike tinge from a bowl of potpourri.

Thank God…

Knuckles rapidly tapped at the door.

Who the…Collier looked at the clock and saw he still had plenty of time before he met Jiff.

“Hi, sorry if this is a bad time!” The smiling housewifey face beamed when he opened the door. It was the Wisconsin woman.

Huh? Collier thought. “Oh, of course, your autograph.

I hadn’t forgotten.” But he thought, Jesus, lady! Can’t you see I just got out of the shower?

“We’re going out to dinner now,” she explained, “and we didn’t want to miss you. Oh, but we’d love for you to come along.”

“Oh, thanks, but I’ve already got plans…”

“Here, could you sign on this please? It would be a wonderful souvenir.”

She handed him a napkin that had the inn’s name on it. “Sure.” He tried to sound enthused. A flashing glimpse revealed her more closely than before. Probably pretty hot ten years ago. Her plushness was leaning toward fat but she still retained some cuteness within. Short, with a dark coif, and…Stacked, he noted of the volume of flesh filling the bra. The otherwise boring face and eyes lit up with the elation of being so close to a “star.”

“Come on in, let me get a pen. And sorry about the way I’m dressed, I just got out of the shower.”

“You smell really good!” she enthused.

Collier frowned at the odd comment as he went to the desk, found a pen.

“Could you make it to Carol and Dan, please?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to show my sister! She’ll be jealous!”

Collier rolled his eyes and scribbled on the napkin. “Here you go, Carol,” he said and turned around.

He gulped. She’d come all the way in and closed the door and was now divorced of her blouse. She sat smiling on the edge of the bed. “I’m game if you are…”

Collier just stood there.

The white bra cups blared. Her eyes were huge. “Come here,” she whispered. “We don’t have much time.”

Collier hesitated, then stepped forward till he was standing right before her.

She rubbed his crotch, finagling her hand inside the robe. Collier hissed. Then, with one hand, she expertly reached around, was just about to unhook her bra, when Collier winced and said, “No, don’t. I…” Then he stepped back.

Her shoulders slumped. “Shit. I’m sorry, I feel like an idiot.” And then she blushed and put her blouse back on.

“It’s just that”—his mind reeled. “I’m married,” he said, as farcical as the notion was. There were dozens of reasons not to proceed with something like this, a giant liability chief among them. She could be crazy. But worst of all was that he’d actually been one hair’s width away from going through with it. “It’s not you,” he mumbled. “You’re very attractive—damn! But…”

“I understand.” Now she was clearly embarrassed, keeping her eyes down. “Nothing wrong with being faithful. Guess that says a thing or two about me…”

“But here’s your autograph,” he said and handed the napkin to her. “I’m glad you like my show…”

“Thank you,” she said and sheepishly took it. “’Bye,” she began but Collier stopped her before she got to the door. It was the oddest sensation, but he pulled her forward and kissed her. She seemed surprised.

“If I weren’t married, we’d be getting it on right now…Carol…”

Her embarrassment dissolved; she smiled. One finger traced up his leg through the robe. “Maybe you’ll change your mind later.”

Collier said nothing but the look in his eyes said, Maybe you’re right.

She left the room.

Collier stood there, staring at the closed door. “Unbelievable…”

As more minutes ticked by, he twinged at pangs of guilt and regret. Guilt that he’d actually considered having sex with her, and regret that he hadn’t. It would’ve been a shitty thing to do, he told himself. It would’ve been exploitative. But then a voice like an alter ego yelled, What kind of a pussy are you? You’d have been doing her a favor by putting some spice in her drab, boring life. A REAL man doesn’t say no to free sex, you asshole!

Collier blinked, frowning. No, I guess not. But it simply wasn’t like him to do something like that. If anything, he was on the shy side.

He banished the odd episode from his mind, then started to get dressed.

For a split second he thought he smelled something foul—the stench of old urine—but then he blinked and it was gone.