I held my breath and searched his eyes, waiting for the answer. Finally, he shook his head and responded quietly, his face unreadable. “No, I didn’t, though I have seen one who does.” My eyes grew wide with fear and morbid curiosity, but I sat silently, waiting for him to go on. “It was a long time ago, though I remember it like it was yesterday. There was a terrible accident with a long metal tube that looked like a caterpillar, but with people inside.” “Do you mean a train? Like the one we saw over our heads in Seattle?” He nodded grimly, “Aye, a train. That’s what I heard someone call it. It was longer than the one we saw and on the ground, but this one was broken to pieces, with bodies scattered everywhere and people crying.” He shuddered at the memory and seemed to gain strength from the act of rowing, his strokes becoming deeper as he recounted the story. “I was there to bring a young mother to heaven. I could see other transporters around the train, talking to the dead and disappearing with them as they cast a new scene.
