We started up the gradient, slowly building up power as we did so. The locomotive eased the heavy train into the grade, and continued to pick up speed. Soon we were going worryingly fast, far faster than seemed safe.
“We’re goin’ pretty fast!” I said.
The conductor looked back down the train. “Tell the engineer to slow down!” he called.
Sweetie Belle shouted down the engine. “Slow down!” she cried. “Shut off steam!”
It was no use. Her words were torn away from her mouth as soon as they left them, flying away into the aether and the storm behind us.
She looked back at the conductor, defeated. “They can’t hear me!” she despaired.
“Quick!” the conductor called. “Hold onto the safety bar!”
“What are we gonna do?” I asked nervously. “Is everythin’ alright?”
“Well,” said the conductor, “considering the fact that we have lost communication with the engineer, we are standing, totally exposed, at the front of the locomotive, the train appears to be accelerating uncontrollably, and,” he went on, “we are probably approaching Glacer Gulch, which at 89 degrees is the steepest downhill gradient in the world, I’d suggest we all hold on...”
Just then the train mounted the crest of the climb, and descended into a steep drop.
“...TIGHTLY!”
We roared down the gradient at incredible speed, seemingly out of control. We roared through cantilevered curves, up climbs, and down steep drops at well in excess of safe control. I honestly wondered how the locomotive even managed to stay on the track, let alone glide around those sharp bends. But that would be the least of our troubles.
Turns out, somebody thought it would be a bright idea to build a railway line through the middle of a lake. Only problem is, what happens when the water turns to ice?
The conductor had only just realised this, it seems, and cried out. “Ice has frozen over the tracks!”
The engine roared onto the ice, skidding about madly like a car that’d taken a curve too fast and was trying to correct itself. But the engine then smashed into an ice pillar, which sent the engine rocking over to one side.
Sweetie Belle was hurled into the air. I grabbed onto her hand as she screamed for me not to let go. The conductor grabbed my shoulder, and we lugged her back onboard. The engine’s brakes slammed on, and the locomotive swung around to face the right way.
The conductor walked back along the engine, and opened the roof hatch. “What in the name of Chris Kringle were you doing?” he demanded. “You could have got us killed!”
“The throttle jammed!” the engineer shouted. “But we’ve got it working now and-”
“Look!” I shouted. The ice behind us was cracking and would soon reach us.
The conductor shouted. “Get us the blazes out of here!”
The engineer brought the engine into full reverse, and slammed the throttle open. The engine began to back up quickly. This raised an obvious question; given ice is so slippery, how on earth could the engine even gain traction? Another adjustment of the reverser swung the engine around, as we raced away from our certain doom.
Just then, something was illuminated in the darkness up ahead.
“What’s that?” Sweetie Belle called.
The conductor looked in amazement. “TRACKS!”
He started feeding instructions to the engineer, who in response began to adjust the reverser backward and forward. This had the effect of turning the engine left and right, which somehow didn’t tear the valve gear apart, but whatever. As if this train will start making sense now!
Back and forth we snaked across the ice, getting slowly closer to our target. The intense speed started to play with my trainers, and one of them flew off, revealing the ticket.
“Quick!” Sweetie Belle called. “You’re gonna lose your ticket!”
“It ain’t mah ticket!” I called in response. “It’s yers!”
“It’s mine?” she asked in surprise. We both reached for the object, and mercifully caught it before it blew away.
At last we reached the rails on the other side of the gorge, and the train dropped onto them just in time before the ice collapsed. The train pulled forward up the slope and out of danger.
Sweetie Belle hugged me. “I’m so glad you found my ticket!” she squealed.
The conductor spoke up. “Did somebody say ticket?”
“Yes sir!” we chorused, before laughing.
He smiled. “Well, by all means, tickets please.”
Sweetie Belle passed the ticket up, and the conductor punched it, before handing it back to her.
Following that little adventure, I was more than happy for a rest. We passed through to the passenger car, where I flopped in the seat.
“Did you see that?” Diamond Tiara cried. “We were steaming across ice! I’ll never forget that!”
I left the car and walked into the observation car, to see Sweetie Belle singing with the girl who’d been in there the entire time. They’d just finished, from what I could make out. I looked out of the back of the train as we stormed over the ocean without any bridges or apparent support for the rails.
“Isn’t this just a wonderful time?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Not for me,” the other girl said. “Christmas isn’t even a concept to my aunts. They’ve cared for me ever since my parents died.”
“That’s awful!” Sweetie Belle replied.
“It’s life for me,” the other girl answered. “I’ve accepted my lot is to be poor, and not enjoy the life that other people do. Some people mope about not being able to have things. I simply get on with it.”
Just then, the conductor arrived. “Hello!” he called. “Look there. Just out to sea, beyond the locomotive itself.”
We looked out to sea, to see (haha) a set of lights.
“See those lights?” he said. “They look like the strange lights of an ocean liner, on a frozen sea.” He paused for dramatic effect and pointed. “There, is the North Pole.”