Flash! Fiction by Peter McMillan - HTML preview
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21
Hello Christopher. This is Quentin.
Quentin Mc—
Yes. Yes, it has been a long time.
Have you heard?
About Eric.
Yeah, I'll hold.
Three 8-year-old boys. Just met. Families on vacation. Bored. On their own. Go exploring. Find railroad tracks running along the edge of a mountain. Put pennies on the tracks for souvenirs. Argue about whether it's illegal or dangerous.
Is this Christopher's secretary? Still holding.
Follow tracks around the curve and into a dark train tunnel. Unable to see to the other end, but walk towards it, kicking against the rail with their feet and occasionally reaching out for the cold, damp wall.
Stop in the middle of the curve where both ends of the tunnel are visible. Continue walking. Wonder whether the railroad is still in use. Never heard a train whistle back in Gatlinburg. Exit the tunnel and walk along the tracks, leaving the rails once in a while to go off into the woods. Take turns rolling rocks down the mountain. Getting bored and hungry, turn around.
No, thank you. It's important that I tell him myself. I can hold a little longer.