Destination Unknown
Shelby
Admiral Biscuit
There were two main yards back-to-back and a third small one just beyond that didn’t seem to be used for much. Maybe it was extra overflow if there were too many trains, or maybe it was left over. A lot of railyards had downsized. This one still had a turntable but no roundhouse.
She flew over the yard and got a good look at the trains that looked ready to depart. None of the open gondolas had clear floors, but there was a collection of grain cars that were promising, including a pink one that nearly matched her coat. She could be more out in the open on that one and nopony would notice her.
•••
Beyond the yards, the highway crossed over the tracks on a pair of concrete overpasses, which gave her good cover, at least until the train approached. There was a frontage road on one side, so she picked the abutment furthest away and waited.
•••
The thunder of the accelerating locomotives shook the bridge, and then they were past. She’d counted the cars, although she hadn’t anticipated the train picking up speed as fast as it did.
Getting through the support bars and ladder were tricky, but she’d practiced plenty of times and stuck the landing, settling into the end platform.
She held a hoof up to the side slope, and sure enough the faded pink of the car nearly matched her coat.
•••
They followed the highway and then it curved off and they paralleled a winding river instead, crossing it occasionally to keep in favorable terrain.
They didn’t make it far before they had to stop; she wound up just past the center of town. A track to the west led off to a grain elevator with a loop of track, and she watched the train there slowly make its way around as the cars were loaded.
The horn of the other train gave her some warning before it rocketed through town, rocking her grain car, and then they were moving again, fields and pastures, alongside the highway and then they drifted away and all of a sudden the land dropped away and the train crossed a river valley on a long deck bridge.
They passed a small town, crossed over another tall deck bridge over another creek, found the interstate and then lost it again, running instead in a dry wash.
They got sided out again in Conrad, and this time her train picked up a fresh cut of cars from the grain elevator there. They’d been set out in front of a tractor dealership, and she hadn’t been anticipating it.
The conductor wore a bright yellow safety vest, and his back was to her as the car rolled past.
She ducked down against the slope sheet, fitting herself in around the air piping and brake levers. Matching the grainer’s color might prevent casual viewers from seeing her, but surely the conductor would know what belonged on a railcar and what didn’t.
•••
It seemed like forever before they got moving again. She kept her head down, kept to her hiding spot. She could hear the conductor’s boots crunching over the ballast and his radio talking as he came by again; she was probably safe then but didn’t dig herself out of her spot until the train started to move again, until it got back on the single track out of town.
Not far out of town, the tracks curved west, then they slowed down, passed through a switch, and turned to the east, heading through some low, flat land between two ridges.
•••
Another small town brought more grain cars to be added, and she hid once again, then they were back out in the open with practically no signs of civilization.
Sweetsong wondered if she’d picked the wrong train, if she’d gotten on one that would be stopping at every grain elevator on its way to pick up more cars, even though it had already seemed like a long train.
It did not, because there were no more grain elevators, just open valley and open skies.
•••
One of the challenges in the plains was a lack of cover. Her train got routed through the yard ladder and then unceremoniously left on a long yard track.
She could easily be seen underneath the bellies of tank cars if she disembarked, there was an access road to the north and a busy highway to the south.
Across the access road was her best bet. She had to cross several tracks, which might have moving trains and might have crew members walking along, looking for railcars. She’d have to be both fast and careful.
•••
Tank cars didn’t provide much concealment, but they were easy to walk under. One track over, a centerbeam flatbed provided her with at least a slight cover—she was off the ground and not as easily spotted.
One more track to cross, then the road, and there was a highway overpass ahead which might provide some cover. The trains on both tracks flanking her didn’t have any tank cars between her and the bridge, so she wouldn’t be too obvious.
Sweetsong galloped the distance, her hooves occasionally skidding on a loose piece of gravel ballast, and as she got close, she took flight, crowded in the narrow confines between the cars.
Up and over, there’d be traffic on the bridges so she banked sharply and buttonhooked north, climbing just above the parapet of the bridge before remembering that not only would there be plenty of cars to see her impromptu Wonderbolts show, but it was going to be anything but subtle.
It was too late to stop, unless she wanted to crash land on the bridge abutment, so she picked up speed instead, climbing as quickly as she could before arcing over the northbound lanes of the highway.
She’d gotten lucky; there wasn’t much nearby traffic and she didn’t cause an accident.
•••
The town both followed along the tracks and also had a leg to the north. Sweetsong decided to stretch her wings, flying along Interstate 15 until she spotted a lake off to her right. It was almost surely artificial; two of the sides were nearly straight.
There were nearby RV parks which was a place she might earn some bits, although they weren’t her first choice.
She flew south of the tracks and found a splash park which was open from 8 to 8, although their sign said that they didn’t allow pets. Sometimes people considered her a pet, like the lifeguard in Laurel. It was worth a shot, though; she could rinse off in the water and not have to worry about a hotel for the night.
Nobody kicked her out, and she rinsed the road dust off and shook off on the concrete pad—well away from any kids or their parents—and then flew up to the roof of the pool building to dry off. It was mostly flat, although the solar panels that angled up off it made it more difficult to find a good spot.
Once she was dry, it was time to find dinner. Clark’s looked good, there were plenty of semi-trucks parked around it.
The fish and chips were tempting, but she settled on an omelet instead with swirl rye toast on the side. Jam and jelly came in frustrating little packets—humans liked putting things in little packets and she’d gotten decent at opening sauce packets but these were more of a challenge. She was ready to give up on them, but the waitress saw her struggling and helped her out.
There was a carousel in town, an added attraction at the local rest area. The inside of the building was plainer than she’d expected, and the carousel looked out of place. They’d put local pictures around the top border, trains and cattle and grain elevators and cowboys riding horses.
A few people snickered as she hopped up on a horse, but she ignored them and took a dozen laps before hopping off. They also had helicopter rides, although they were fake helicopters on metal arms and she wasn’t interested in that experience.
Someone who’d taken her photo offered to buy her huckleberry ice cream, and that was an offer she couldn’t refuse.
They’d never seen a pony up close, and wanted to know what brought her to Shelby. Sweetsong admitted a freight train, specifically a grain car, and she had every intention of leaving the same way tomorrow. A room for the night was offered and declined; sometimes Sweetsong accepted the generosity of people, but other times she wanted to be outside.
She thought about getting out her guitar and maybe making some bits, but she’d already had ice cream and didn’t feel like seizing the opportunity.
More photos were taken, and obligatory pets from curious children, and then she took to the sky, searching for a spot for the night while it was still light.
This part of Montana didn’t have any good trees outside of town, and most of the buildings didn’t have good roofs, either. West of town, though, she found a railroad signal bridge which would be a good perch for the night. While she’d be obvious during the day, at night the trains might not spot her, and if they did, they’d have to find someone to climb the ladder and kick her off the spindly structure.
Back east there were still plenty of unused coal towers standing, and she’d overnighted in them before. They were big and spooky and weird, but gave her a commanding view of the mainline from the high windows, and rarely had people in them.
•••
Montana was Big Sky Country, and it certainly lived up to that expectation. She wasn’t quite far enough out of town to avoid the glare from the lights, and of course there were two highways—one of them paralleling the railroad—and a constant parade of trains passing by. Even so, millions of stars spread across the sky, and the dusty smudge of the Milky Way. She’d heard that further north sometimes the Aurora Borealis was visible, ever-changing skylights and one day that would be something to see.
A few high-flying airplanes blinked by overhead and she shivered on the cold steel walkway of the signal tower. Coyotes howled off in the distance, but she was safe and secure until she got rousted by a bull.
If she did.
She dozed, and sometimes she woke and looked through the latticework as a train passed below her, and sometimes she looked to the sky and the uncaring stars above.
Maybe Montana was too big-skied, from what she’d seen she could have flown off north and been lost in endless hilly prairie land for as long as she wanted to be. That did have its appeal, but she liked talking to people and seeing different things every day. Some humans claimed that you could find yourself by losing yourself and she didn’t believe them.
The stars danced overhead and the dawn came and trains passed by. Sweetsong stood and stretched and waved to the crew of a coal train headed west. They honked their horn and after the locomotives passed, she took to the sky again, flying north, losing herself in the vastness of rural Montana. The grasses were a nearly untapped bounty; whenever she felt peckish she dropped down and snacked, then flew again. There weren’t rivers, but there were occasional ponds in small depressions and while she was skeptical of drinking the water, she splashed around in one, shook off on the shore, then took off again.
Roads and power lines were generally straight and unnatural, fields were giant rectangles, and she found a small ranch off by itself with cattle pens on one side of the road and abandoned trucks on the other.
The boringly-named Kevin, Montana was next to a dried-up reservoir and she was briefly reunited with railroad tracks. She could have waited alongside them and hopped the next southbound train back to Shelby—whenever it came—but the sky was big and so she continued flying, cruising on thermals for a while before diving down and flying low, skimming the top of wheat fields. An airport she hadn’t noticed on her way north caught her eye and she considered flying a pattern and landing just for fun. With no radio, that was potentially dangerous, even though she couldn’t see any airplanes.
What’s life without some danger? She circled the field, didn’t see any airplanes preparing to land or take off. She knew how it was supposed to be done; virtually all pegasi were considered weather reservists and that held true here on Earth, too, so she’d spent a week at Cessna Clipper’s mareport, learning all the rules she needed to know.
Her downwind leg complete, she turned to base and skimmed over Interstate 15 to ‘land’ on Runway 29.
Long white bars were where the airplanes were supposed to touch down, and she put her forehooves nearly to the stripe before pulling up and making a sharp southerly low-altitude turn no airplane could ever hope to emulate.
Once she climbed again, Sweetsong continued her flight back to Shelby, already wondering what kind of car she’d ride for the next leg of her journey.