Red Pastures, Part 0002: Elias Station

[ Probably not the final draft, but I'm posting it anyway because I know Daboo is anxiously awaiting it. ]

Steam flowed from the stack as the train ground to a halt. With a gentle bump, the switchman engaged his lever. There was a sort of satisfaction in knowing that this simple mechanical motion would move thousands of tons of goods from one part of the country to the other. As the engine began to churn forward, the switchman stepped back, glancing casually at the figure lurking at the edge of his vision.

"Back again, old man?" he called good-naturedly. The rag-covered figure simply shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the long burden of solitude making him impatient with the niceties of human interaction.

"Well, come on -" the switchman beckoned. "Are you coming in for a cup, or what?"

Shuffling forward, Elias Dorian met the smaller man near the door to the switchhouse. He shied back when the switchman reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. Grinning and shaking his head, the switchman feigned surrender.

"Right, right...'no touching'. Well, come in." Turning away, the switchman climbed the short flight of stairs and began rummaging in the cupboard for a spare mug. Finding nothing more than an old canning jar, he turned to sink to rinse it out and started as he nearly collided with Elias.

"Good loard, you're a sneaky one!" he exclaimed. "Didn't even hear ya come in. Well, here ya go." He put the dirty jar on the table motioning Elias towards the sink, and reached for the coffee pot. Pouring some into his own mug he hesitated before, at an expectant nod of Elias, he grunted and poured the steaming liquid into the jar. As always, he was surprised at the incredible speed at which Elias' hands moved, emerging from the pile of rags to snatch the jar back, revealing only the briefest glimpse of chocolate-colored skin near the wrists and at the fingers.

"I asked the yardmaster 'bout you. He says you been here longer than anyone, longer maybe than some of the tugs."

"Ellyuz --" the deep croak came from somewhere in Elias' chest, his voice creaking like a rusty hinge. He worked his jaw as if trying to loosen muscles frozen from lack of use.

"What?"

"My name," he said more clearly. "My name is Elias, and I've lived here for 60 years come September."

The switchman snorted and grinned. "Pull the other one, old man...Elias Station was barely even here 60 years ago. You want me to believe this yard is named after you, you're going to have to age about another 60 years."

Elias nodded, then tipped the jar into his mouth, swallowing the scorching coffee in one long pull. "Right." Smacking his lips, he plunked the jar back on the table, again moving so quickly the switchman could barely follow his movements. "Thanks for the drink. It's been a long time since I had coffee --" His mouth rolled around the word, pronouncing with a distinctly European sound. " -- good night --" Elias murmured, turning his back and fading back into the darkness of the train yard.

Crazy old coot the switchman thought silently, shaking his head again. He drained his own cup -- burning his tongue a bit on the dregs -- rinsed the cup in the sink, and returned to work.