Railroad Secrets - A short story.
Please note, that unlike my full length novels, these short stories have not been polished with the help of my editor.
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I SKIPPED over the railway sleepers with expert timing as the southerly breeze blew dried gum leaves ahead of me. They tumbled along the rusted metal tracks like dandelions. The silence of the bush surrounding the tracks was like a vacuum. I was completely absorbed by my isolation, enjoying the freedom of my immediate world.
“Wait for me,” yelled Phil. I turned to see my younger brother about fifty metres behind me. I sighed knowing that the peace I’d been enjoying was about to be shattered. I noticed a large nail near my foot and squatted down to pick it up. It was as long as my hand, a deep rusty colour and hot from the midday sun. I ran my thumb over the rough metal and it left a red powder stain. |
“Where’re you going?” Phil arrived at my side.
“Don’t know.” I shrugged. “Just walking along the tracks.”
“Aren’t you worried about a train?”
“Nope…never seen one along here before. Have you?”
“No. But I’ve heard them.”
“So if one comes, we’ll hear it in plenty of time to get off the tracks.”
“I guess.” Phil wiped sweat off his chin onto his shoulder. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyelashes were wet with sweat. The humidity never bothered me as much as it did Phil.
I turned back in the direction I’d been heading and picked up my pace. The track extended before me like a never-ending river of steel. My elbows swung backward and forward as I hopped from sleeper to sleeper.
Up ahead a ragged looking bridge caught my eye. I was drawn to it. I slowed as I approached the edge of the bridge. The sleepers were evenly spaced with nothing but emptiness in-between. The wooden bridge carried the tracks over a small creek and it gave me a weird sense of vertigo as I gazed at the tea coloured water below.
The creek’s banks were overgrown with lantana that would easily swallow me if I jumped down into it. It’d been weeks since our last serious downfall and the Teatree stained water in the creek had been reduced to a trickle. Small black tadpoles and moss-covered rocks were easily visible from my vantage point. I lay down on my stomach and allowed the heat of the metal tracks to penetrate my chest.
I imagined I was an archaeologist exploring a long forgotten piece of civilization. I watched a tadpole dart in and out of the reeds and a tiny frog scooted across the surface of the water leaving a triangle pattern in its wake. The heat intensified and sweat trickled down my back.
Phil’s scream pieced my ears and I snapped out of my trance. I stared at him over my shoulder and saw fear in his eyes.
And then I heard an oncoming train. The surrounding bush was so dense it absorbed most of the sound. I jumped up and Phil grabbed onto my elbow. His fingers dug into my skin.
The energy of the train reverberated through the metal track and although it seemed like it was a long way away I knew it could also be close.
“We have to jump,” I said.
Phil’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“I can’t tell whether it’s coming from that way, or that way.” I pointed in each direction for effect. “So the only safe way is this way.” I pointed to the creek three metres below us.
“You’ve got to be kidding. We’ll get hurt.”
“We’ll be okay. The water will cushion our fall.” I took a couple of steps back. The sound of the train intensified and I knew we were out of choices. “Come on, we’ll do it together.”
Phil bit his bottom lip. “This is crazy.”
“I know. Come on. We don’t have much time.”
At that moment the train appeared at the bend in the track. The glass windscreen flashed in the sun like a warning beacon.
“Jesus, there it is.” I wondered if we could outrun it. But at the same time I knew that opportunity was long gone. I grabbed Phil’s arm and dragged him back.
“Ready. Set. Goooooo.”
I clutched Phil’s hand as we ran towards the edge of the bridge. As I launched off a ragged wooden sleeper I let go of Phil and heard him screaming as we fell towards the water below.
The roar of the train drowned out Phil’s screams as I plunged into the tepid water.
To my surprise I went completely under the water and rolled into the muddy bottom. I pushed up and instantly looked for
Phil. He came up with black mud covering half his face like a Halloween mask. I tried to suppress my laugh but it was impossible.
Before long we were both splashing in the water laughing like crazy.
“Don’t know.” I shrugged. “Just walking along the tracks.”
“Aren’t you worried about a train?”
“Nope…never seen one along here before. Have you?”
“No. But I’ve heard them.”
“So if one comes, we’ll hear it in plenty of time to get off the tracks.”
“I guess.” Phil wiped sweat off his chin onto his shoulder. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyelashes were wet with sweat. The humidity never bothered me as much as it did Phil.
I turned back in the direction I’d been heading and picked up my pace. The track extended before me like a never-ending river of steel. My elbows swung backward and forward as I hopped from sleeper to sleeper.
Up ahead a ragged looking bridge caught my eye. I was drawn to it. I slowed as I approached the edge of the bridge. The sleepers were evenly spaced with nothing but emptiness in-between. The wooden bridge carried the tracks over a small creek and it gave me a weird sense of vertigo as I gazed at the tea coloured water below.
The creek’s banks were overgrown with lantana that would easily swallow me if I jumped down into it. It’d been weeks since our last serious downfall and the Teatree stained water in the creek had been reduced to a trickle. Small black tadpoles and moss-covered rocks were easily visible from my vantage point. I lay down on my stomach and allowed the heat of the metal tracks to penetrate my chest.
I imagined I was an archaeologist exploring a long forgotten piece of civilization. I watched a tadpole dart in and out of the reeds and a tiny frog scooted across the surface of the water leaving a triangle pattern in its wake. The heat intensified and sweat trickled down my back.
Phil’s scream pieced my ears and I snapped out of my trance. I stared at him over my shoulder and saw fear in his eyes.
And then I heard an oncoming train. The surrounding bush was so dense it absorbed most of the sound. I jumped up and Phil grabbed onto my elbow. His fingers dug into my skin.
The energy of the train reverberated through the metal track and although it seemed like it was a long way away I knew it could also be close.
“We have to jump,” I said.
Phil’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“I can’t tell whether it’s coming from that way, or that way.” I pointed in each direction for effect. “So the only safe way is this way.” I pointed to the creek three metres below us.
“You’ve got to be kidding. We’ll get hurt.”
“We’ll be okay. The water will cushion our fall.” I took a couple of steps back. The sound of the train intensified and I knew we were out of choices. “Come on, we’ll do it together.”
Phil bit his bottom lip. “This is crazy.”
“I know. Come on. We don’t have much time.”
At that moment the train appeared at the bend in the track. The glass windscreen flashed in the sun like a warning beacon.
“Jesus, there it is.” I wondered if we could outrun it. But at the same time I knew that opportunity was long gone. I grabbed Phil’s arm and dragged him back.
“Ready. Set. Goooooo.”
I clutched Phil’s hand as we ran towards the edge of the bridge. As I launched off a ragged wooden sleeper I let go of Phil and heard him screaming as we fell towards the water below.
The roar of the train drowned out Phil’s screams as I plunged into the tepid water.
To my surprise I went completely under the water and rolled into the muddy bottom. I pushed up and instantly looked for
Phil. He came up with black mud covering half his face like a Halloween mask. I tried to suppress my laugh but it was impossible.
Before long we were both splashing in the water laughing like crazy.
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‘That was awesome,” I yelled.
“Yeah.” Phil punched the water, sending a wave over me. The train was once again a clicketty-clack in the distance and we were swallowed by heat suppressed silence. I sat back with the water up to my neck and enjoyed the serenity. The sunlight reflected off the creek water like a million stars. Thick lantana made it impossible to see beyond a metre of the river bank and I knew we were going to have trouble getting back up the bank. I looked at the old bridge. The grey wood had suffered through decades of harsh Queensland weather and no longer had any smooth edges. I followed the design of the bridge to the struts that held it up. The ragged structure looked like something I could’ve knocked together. It’s a wonder it was still standing. I looked at the old bridge. The grey wood had suffered through decades of harsh Queensland weather and no longer had any smooth edges. I followed the design of the bridge to the struts that held it up. The ragged structure looked like something I could’ve knocked together. It’s a wonder it was still standing. |
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Then I saw the door.
It was barely visible through the overgrown weeds, but there was no mistaking it was a door.
“Look at that.” I pointed over the weeds.
“What?” Phil wiped black mud off his cheek.
I stood up with the water up to my waist and waded towards the bank. I grabbed a handful of lantana and used it to haul myself out of the water. I pushed the weeds down ahead of me as I made a path towards the mystery door.
“Wait for me.” Phil huffed behind me.
But I didn’t wait. Couldn’t. I followed the shadow line made by the grey wood above me. The bridge trusses were held up by a brick wall that I hadn’t noticed when I lay on the tracks above. The irregular shaped bricks were a burnt sienna colour, but most of them were covered in a shriveled vine that had long ago died.
“What’s your hurry?” Phil grabbed my elbow.
“Look.” I pointed at the wooden door.
“Holy cow! What is it?”
“A door.”
“I mean, what’s in there?”
“How should I know? But I’m about to find out.”
I dragged myself over more weeds and soon I stood before it. The door was made of dark, almost black wood with an arched top. It looked like a prop from a medieval movie. A forged metal circle acted as a handle and an ancient barrel lock hung loosely from a rusted metal loop.
“Oops, someone forgot to lock it.” I reached for the lock.
“What are you doing?” Phil whispered.
I wriggled the lock from the loop and it popped out of the catch. I then pulled onthe door handle. The door opened with stiff movements and screeched as I dragged it towards me.
“I’m going in. Stay here if you want.”
I stepped onto the cobblestone floor and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark space. The room smelt mouldy, like my dad’s garden shed. Slithers of light cut through several bricks on the side walls and small particles danced in the sunbeam. The room was about the same size as my dad’s ute. Jumbles of wooden crates were piled up against one corner and in the other corner was a table with just one chair. A lantern hung from a hook on the wall and I wished I had a way to light it.
In the middle of the table was a brown sack. The sack had Bank of New South Wales written in bold but decorative letters across the middle. I tried to open the sack at the top but the brittle material disintegrated and bundles of multi coloured money tumbled out.
“Holy–” Phil said as he gathered a wad of notes. “Twenty pounds?” He cocked his head to the side. “This is English money.”
“But it says Commonwealth of Australia.” I pointed at the curved writing across the top. “See, it says Australian Note.” The banknote was a mixture of blue and pale green colours and every millimetre was decorated with intricate designs.
“Do you think it’s real?”
“Looks real to me.” I turned it over. The back of the note displayed a picture of three men cutting down an enormous tree with a large two-handled saw.
“Why is it here?” Phil said.
“I think we’ve found stolen money.”
“Doesn’t explain why it’s here.”
“Maybe the robbers hid it here and were coming back to get it.”
“So why didn’t they?”
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Maybe they were caught.”
“But they would have come back once they got out of jail.”
“Maybe they never got out.”
“This is creepy. I think we should go.” Phil backed away.
“It’s not creepy, it’s exciting. We could get a reward for this. Here, help me.” I pushed a bundle of notes into my wet pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m taking it.” I shoved more money into my other pocket.
It was barely visible through the overgrown weeds, but there was no mistaking it was a door.
“Look at that.” I pointed over the weeds.
“What?” Phil wiped black mud off his cheek.
I stood up with the water up to my waist and waded towards the bank. I grabbed a handful of lantana and used it to haul myself out of the water. I pushed the weeds down ahead of me as I made a path towards the mystery door.
“Wait for me.” Phil huffed behind me.
But I didn’t wait. Couldn’t. I followed the shadow line made by the grey wood above me. The bridge trusses were held up by a brick wall that I hadn’t noticed when I lay on the tracks above. The irregular shaped bricks were a burnt sienna colour, but most of them were covered in a shriveled vine that had long ago died.
“What’s your hurry?” Phil grabbed my elbow.
“Look.” I pointed at the wooden door.
“Holy cow! What is it?”
“A door.”
“I mean, what’s in there?”
“How should I know? But I’m about to find out.”
I dragged myself over more weeds and soon I stood before it. The door was made of dark, almost black wood with an arched top. It looked like a prop from a medieval movie. A forged metal circle acted as a handle and an ancient barrel lock hung loosely from a rusted metal loop.
“Oops, someone forgot to lock it.” I reached for the lock.
“What are you doing?” Phil whispered.
I wriggled the lock from the loop and it popped out of the catch. I then pulled onthe door handle. The door opened with stiff movements and screeched as I dragged it towards me.
“I’m going in. Stay here if you want.”
I stepped onto the cobblestone floor and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark space. The room smelt mouldy, like my dad’s garden shed. Slithers of light cut through several bricks on the side walls and small particles danced in the sunbeam. The room was about the same size as my dad’s ute. Jumbles of wooden crates were piled up against one corner and in the other corner was a table with just one chair. A lantern hung from a hook on the wall and I wished I had a way to light it.
In the middle of the table was a brown sack. The sack had Bank of New South Wales written in bold but decorative letters across the middle. I tried to open the sack at the top but the brittle material disintegrated and bundles of multi coloured money tumbled out.
“Holy–” Phil said as he gathered a wad of notes. “Twenty pounds?” He cocked his head to the side. “This is English money.”
“But it says Commonwealth of Australia.” I pointed at the curved writing across the top. “See, it says Australian Note.” The banknote was a mixture of blue and pale green colours and every millimetre was decorated with intricate designs.
“Do you think it’s real?”
“Looks real to me.” I turned it over. The back of the note displayed a picture of three men cutting down an enormous tree with a large two-handled saw.
“Why is it here?” Phil said.
“I think we’ve found stolen money.”
“Doesn’t explain why it’s here.”
“Maybe the robbers hid it here and were coming back to get it.”
“So why didn’t they?”
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Maybe they were caught.”
“But they would have come back once they got out of jail.”
“Maybe they never got out.”
“This is creepy. I think we should go.” Phil backed away.
“It’s not creepy, it’s exciting. We could get a reward for this. Here, help me.” I pushed a bundle of notes into my wet pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m taking it.” I shoved more money into my other pocket.
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“We can’t take it. It’s not ours.”
“I’m not leaving it here. Besides whoever put it here is long gone.” Phil huffed. “Alright, if you must take it, then use one of those crates.” He pointed to the corner. “Good idea.” I walked across the cobblestones and lifted the top crate off the pile. And then I screamed. |
A dirty skull with empty eye sockets stared up at me for a brief moment before it fell off the crates and landed with a hollow thud on the stone floor. I dropped the crate and it shattered into dozens of pieces. Phil screamed too, although I don’t think he knew why. I then raced out the door and grabbed at handfuls of lantana to haul myself up the embankment and onto the railroad tracks.
“Jason. Stop!” Phil yelled behind me. “What’s wrong?”
“A skull,” I yelled over my shoulder.
My heart pounded in my chest as I barrelled up the track. It was only Phil’s desperate pleas for me to slow down that eventually forced me to stop. I bent over, hands on hips and gasped for air as I waited for Phil to catch up.
He arrived at my side and crumbled onto the tracks to catch his breath. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“When I lifted that crate a skull fell out.”
He thumped me in the shin. “I told you that place was creepy.”
“Yeah… but I can’t wait to tell Mum.”
“Think she’ll believe us?”
I removed a twenty pound note from my pocket. “Yep.”
Phil and I told our story a total of six times over the next couple of hours and by mid afternoon, our parents, two police officers and three other men followed Phil and I back along the train tracks.
I jumped into the weeds at the edge of the bridge and tumbled towards the creek below. I then called up to the others to follow me. The group of adults made hard work of the weeds and eventually we arrived at the mystery room.
The police used their torches to light up the dark space. I pointed at the skull that oddly now sat in an upright position on the cobblestones. Eventually we were escorted back to our home and the police told us they’d be in touch.
The story travelled quickly and that night Phil and I featured on the evening news. The next day we followed the story in the paper in the hope of finding answers to the mystery money.
Two days later a police detective came to our door.
“Do you know where the money came from?” I asked before I even opened the screen door.
“Do we get a reward?” Phil said.
“Slow down, boys. Let me sit down first,” he said as he lifted out a kitchen chair.
Phil, my mother and I sat opposite him.
He removed his hat before he spoke. “In September 1946, National Security declared all currency above ten pounds in value as illegal tender and the notes were actively withdrawn. The money you found was Australian Pounds from the Bank of New South Wales. The money was on route to a destruction house when two men, Thomas Brady and Edward Nicolson, jumped the train and stole two bags of money.”
“Two? But we only found one,” I said.
“Yes but when Edward Nicolson realised the money was worthless, he handed himself and his bag into the police.”
“So, did the skeleton belong to the other guy,” said Phil.
“We assume so, but we have to wait for test results to confirm.”
“So I guess there’s no reward.”
“As a matter of fact, there is.”
“How much?” Phil and I asked in unison.
“Jason. Stop!” Phil yelled behind me. “What’s wrong?”
“A skull,” I yelled over my shoulder.
My heart pounded in my chest as I barrelled up the track. It was only Phil’s desperate pleas for me to slow down that eventually forced me to stop. I bent over, hands on hips and gasped for air as I waited for Phil to catch up.
He arrived at my side and crumbled onto the tracks to catch his breath. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“When I lifted that crate a skull fell out.”
He thumped me in the shin. “I told you that place was creepy.”
“Yeah… but I can’t wait to tell Mum.”
“Think she’ll believe us?”
I removed a twenty pound note from my pocket. “Yep.”
Phil and I told our story a total of six times over the next couple of hours and by mid afternoon, our parents, two police officers and three other men followed Phil and I back along the train tracks.
I jumped into the weeds at the edge of the bridge and tumbled towards the creek below. I then called up to the others to follow me. The group of adults made hard work of the weeds and eventually we arrived at the mystery room.
The police used their torches to light up the dark space. I pointed at the skull that oddly now sat in an upright position on the cobblestones. Eventually we were escorted back to our home and the police told us they’d be in touch.
The story travelled quickly and that night Phil and I featured on the evening news. The next day we followed the story in the paper in the hope of finding answers to the mystery money.
Two days later a police detective came to our door.
“Do you know where the money came from?” I asked before I even opened the screen door.
“Do we get a reward?” Phil said.
“Slow down, boys. Let me sit down first,” he said as he lifted out a kitchen chair.
Phil, my mother and I sat opposite him.
He removed his hat before he spoke. “In September 1946, National Security declared all currency above ten pounds in value as illegal tender and the notes were actively withdrawn. The money you found was Australian Pounds from the Bank of New South Wales. The money was on route to a destruction house when two men, Thomas Brady and Edward Nicolson, jumped the train and stole two bags of money.”
“Two? But we only found one,” I said.
“Yes but when Edward Nicolson realised the money was worthless, he handed himself and his bag into the police.”
“So, did the skeleton belong to the other guy,” said Phil.
“We assume so, but we have to wait for test results to confirm.”
“So I guess there’s no reward.”
“As a matter of fact, there is.”
“How much?” Phil and I asked in unison.
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“A reward of one thousand pounds was offered by the Crown back in 1946 when Thomas Brady and the money disappeared.”
“A thousand dollars,” Phil said. “No,” said the officer. “I said one thousand pounds. By today’s standards that’s the equivalent of about eighty thousand dollars.” "Holy cow, we’re rich.” I yelled as I thumped my brother’s arm. My mother looked pale. “Did you hear that, Mum? We’re going to be rich.” She turned to the policeman with a look of dismay. “Is this for real?” |
He nodded. “But I haven’t told you the exciting part yet.”
I stared into the police officer’s pale green eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“When the bank notes were withdrawn in 1946, an audit established that approximately 500 of these particular notes were still missing. Over the years only a small number of them have re-surfaced.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “In 2009 one of these twenty pound notes sold for $139,000 at an auction.”
My mother gasped. The enormity of his statement hit me like a speeding train. I tried to calculate the value in my head, but it was impossible.
“So,” the policeman continued. “The significant value of this cache has created a storm amongst auctioneers and investors. But you do have a slight dilemma. By law, you cannot profit from the proceeds of a crime, however as you didn’t commit the crime and merely discovered it, I believe you may have a case to claim the money as your own.”
“So we can keep it?” I said.
“I recommend you seek legal advice.” He stood and reached for his hat. “I’m going to leave you with that thought, but I’ll let you know if anything else happens.”
The screen door creaked back into place after he left, and the following eerie silence was a clear indication of the shock that overwhelmed us.
“Are you okay, Mum?”
She blinked at me as if seeing me for the first time. Her eyes then cleared and a smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Okay? I’m marvelous.”
We jumped up and celebrated in our little kitchen long into the evening.
That night, I removed the two bundles of pound notes that I had hidden in my desk draw over a week ago. I counted out the notes and then grabbed my calculator. The zero’s that stared up at me made my head spin. I bundled the notes back together and hid them in a small wooden box in my cupboard.
I heard the distinct sound of a train somewhere in the distance and wondered why I had never heard it before. I climbed into bed and let soft tendrils of the cool night air dance over me as I drifted off to sleep.
This story is inspired by an actual childhood event.
I will never forget the look on my sister’s face when she came out of that creek covered in mud. And that was the only train we ever saw on those tracks. I wish we did find the money though. That’s just a dream…
I stared into the police officer’s pale green eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“When the bank notes were withdrawn in 1946, an audit established that approximately 500 of these particular notes were still missing. Over the years only a small number of them have re-surfaced.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “In 2009 one of these twenty pound notes sold for $139,000 at an auction.”
My mother gasped. The enormity of his statement hit me like a speeding train. I tried to calculate the value in my head, but it was impossible.
“So,” the policeman continued. “The significant value of this cache has created a storm amongst auctioneers and investors. But you do have a slight dilemma. By law, you cannot profit from the proceeds of a crime, however as you didn’t commit the crime and merely discovered it, I believe you may have a case to claim the money as your own.”
“So we can keep it?” I said.
“I recommend you seek legal advice.” He stood and reached for his hat. “I’m going to leave you with that thought, but I’ll let you know if anything else happens.”
The screen door creaked back into place after he left, and the following eerie silence was a clear indication of the shock that overwhelmed us.
“Are you okay, Mum?”
She blinked at me as if seeing me for the first time. Her eyes then cleared and a smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Okay? I’m marvelous.”
We jumped up and celebrated in our little kitchen long into the evening.
That night, I removed the two bundles of pound notes that I had hidden in my desk draw over a week ago. I counted out the notes and then grabbed my calculator. The zero’s that stared up at me made my head spin. I bundled the notes back together and hid them in a small wooden box in my cupboard.
I heard the distinct sound of a train somewhere in the distance and wondered why I had never heard it before. I climbed into bed and let soft tendrils of the cool night air dance over me as I drifted off to sleep.
This story is inspired by an actual childhood event.
I will never forget the look on my sister’s face when she came out of that creek covered in mud. And that was the only train we ever saw on those tracks. I wish we did find the money though. That’s just a dream…
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