You scoot and scale the train’s edge in very tiny and precise movements from where you jumped on until you arrive at the back of the car and fit comfortably in between where it connects to another one. Banging on the train car’s walls for help doesn’t sound like a very good option considering the noise.
In a brainstorm of despair, you remember how a penny flattened on a railroad track is said to have the power to grant someone’s wish. You reach in your pocket to feel for any change and, this time instead of 29 dollars, you have a fistful of 29 pennies. Letting them fall one by one you hope that at least one of them gets nailed and wish for the train to come to an immediate stop.
“Wait a second,” you think suddenly after dropping your last few pennies, “If I can simply make pennies appear out of nothing, then why can’t I stop…”
That’s as far as the thought gets before the loudest, most ear-shredding sound you’ve ever encountered (even worse than the time your cousin Iggy thought it would be funny to wake you up with an electric guitar and an amp next to your pillow.) Just like out of a cliché math problem, the train crashed head-on with another train as you were lucky enough to discover. You take one look at the twisted wreckage, write it off as another unsolved mystery, and wander your way into Denver.
Go to page 83.
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