Red Desert sandstorms are among the most vicious a traveler could encounter. Living in America’s far West would never have been possible without locomotives that made transportation a safer and more comfortable experience for traveling Americans.
Despite how hard the storm blows the sand, the train is sturdy enough to be unfazed by the sands that collide with these trains. The only thing louder than the sandstorm is the train whistle, which always grabs anyone’s attention close to the railway.
Even the passenger car keeps passengers safe from the brutal sandstorms. This train traveling through Wyoming has fewer passenger cars than most since only a few folks go this far west, especially visiting smaller towns. It’s hard to get a good view of the Red Desert from the window of this train in Wyoming’s sandstorm. All anyone can see is the dreadful desert storms covering any good view. The only thing any of these passengers can see are some dead plants and tumbleweeds within close distance next to the rails.
Since this is one of the trains that’s traveling very far, the interior quality feels like that of a third-class car despite being connected right behind the locomotive. Only a married couple sits in the first-class car, perfectly safe from the brutal weather outside.
The wife, sitting next to the window, doesn’t dress like she is going west. Instead, she dresses like one of the city girls, wearing a thick ballgown that reaches the bottom of her boots. The black jacket the wife wears has the shoulder portions puffed upward. To show her sense of fashion, she has a jade scarf wrapped around her neck, gloves as white as her dress, and a bonnet covering her bright brown hair.
The husband, sitting on her left, is wearing an off-white peach suit. Black bow tie and black shoes, losing their shine, are the only things remotely different in color from his bright suit and white shirt. The husband has a nicely groomed red beard and short red hair. He takes out his pocket watch to see that it is five past two, then puts it away and crosses his arms impatiently.
“Oh, Monty,” says the young wife, “if I’d known there was going to be a sandstorm today, I wouldn’t be wearing this dress. There goes dressing to impress your family.”
“Samantha, my darling,” the husband says, “I think my parents would appreciate the thought of putting this much effort into seeing them.”
“I know, Monty,” Samantha says, turning to the window. “I wish I had met your family before we got married.”
“Don’t feel bad, my darling. You know they cannot leave their ranch when they have that many sheep to feed.”
“By the way,” Samantha turns to Monty, “you’ve never told me why you’re the only family member who decided to move to Arkansas. You didn’t run away at a young age, did you?”
“Of course not,” Monty says, startled. “I just didn’t want to spend the rest of my life being a shepherd and cutting sheep wool. It’s not meant for me. The amount I make from selling watches is twice what my whole family makes.”
“Right. Other than your parents, do you have other family members helping out?”
“Nobody. I’m the only child they have.”
“You mean to tell me you left your family to work hard at the sheep ranch?”
“Hey, now.” The husband leans away from his wife. “They gave me their blessings, and they have plenty of dogs guiding those critters to wherever they need them.”
“Right. I’m just disappointed you kept me from meeting your family for so long. It’s not right that you’ve decided that now’s the time for me to meet my in-laws,” Samantha sighs and turns to the window. “I just don’t know how we’re going to raise a healthy family if you’re still keeping secrets from me.”
“Come on, Samantha. It’s not like that at all. It’s just that…,” the husband looks away and stares out the window on the other side of the car, “… maybe you won’t like them.”
Samantha turns to Monty with her arms crossed and looks more upset. “Monty. What makes you think that I won’t like them? Don’t you think I’m a person who gives others fair chances?”
“I know, my darling, but my family—well, you came from an upper-class background, and my family isn’t of the same stature.” The husband looks down, feeling uncomfortable about where the conversation is turning.
Samantha quickly changes her expression after noticing her husband’s change of mood. She puts her hand on his. “Sweetheart. I’m not like other girls who judge the less fortunate. I just want to meet your family because I think it’s fair to meet the ones who raised the man I love so dearly.”
Monty turns to his wife with his undivided attention.
“I promise you, my love, that whatever happens over there, I will love you no matter what.”
“Are you sure about that? Can you handle some of their unique lifestyles, loud noises, and gross sense of humor? They’re not like most families, who are concerned about manners and etiquette.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just follow your cue and—”
A loud bang sounds as something hits the window next to Samantha, causing it to crack. Samantha and Monty turn to see what has happened, but only Monty sees what has hit the glass. By the time Samantha turns around, it’s too late to see what Monty has seen.
Startled, Samantha exclaims, “What was that?!”
“I don’t know. It looked like a buzzard… or some sort of bird flew into our window.”
The couple feels the slight breeze blowing through the crack in the window. Samantha feels the window weakening from the sand hitting it while her husband leans forward to examine the crack. There’s a small drop of blood in the center of the crack on the exterior of the glass.
“Oh, the poor fellow.” Monty touches the window. “That bird really did hit himself hard against the window.”
“A bird? What kind of bird would even fly through a sandstorm like this?” Suddenly, the door behind them opens. A tremendous amount of sand comes in from the back door as it opens. The conductor is boarding the first-class car. He urgently enters and slams the door to prevent more sand from coming in.
“Golly,” the conductor says. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a storm like this.”
A slightly overweight conductor, older than the young couple, wears a dark blue suit and round hat. His uniform is dusty, but his gold buttons and pocket watch chains are spotless. He dusts himself off, wipes his glasses, and fixes his mustache before addressing the only passengers in the first-class car. The official sees the crack in the window next to Monty and says, “Hey, what happened to the window?”
“Sorry, sir,” Monty replies, “but I think some sort of bird flew right into the window and caused that crack.”
“Sir. Is it alright if we sit in a different seat?” Samantha asks. “I’m afraid the window might shatter if the storm worsens.”
The conductor nods. “Suit yourself. You two and one in the last-class car are the only ones on board this train. No one will be taking any of these seats anytime soon.”
“Thank you, sir,” Samantha responds with gratitude.
The young couple moves back to the seat close to the conductor. As they take a seat, the conductor walks to where they sat and examines the cracked glass. “So you say a bird just flew and hit this window?” the conductor shouts across the car.
“Yes,” Monty responds loudly. “It happened so fast. I only saw that a black bird hit the window. It was hard to see with so much sand blowing.”
“Interesting. I have never seen a bird fly through a sandstorm, but seeing blood outside the window lets me know you’re telling the truth.”
The husband sighs with relief. “Oh, and sir. How much longer till we reach Rawlins?”
The conductor takes a seat across from the young couple. He removes his hat and wipes more sand and dust off his uniform. “I’d say it won’t be very long. So where are you two coming from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Russellville, Arkansas,” Samantha responds.
“That’s quite a long way. What brings you two to the West?”
“Just family,” Monty answers. “My wife here never has met her in-laws, so they’ll be meeting each other for the first time.”
Upon observing two individuals displaying an affectionate gesture, the conductor reciprocated with a smile. The official was visibly moved by the presence of the young lovers, a sight that exuded a luminous aura. The brief exchange between the trio was abruptly interrupted as the whistle of an approaching train resonated, followed by the perceptible movement of the conveyance.
“Sounds like we’re arriving soon,” the conductor says. “I must be going.” The conductor gets up from his seat and heads to the door leading to the locomotive. As the official exits the car, the couple gets up and waits for the train to stop. The dust storm has not only not settled but also developed into a reddish fog, making it even harder to see. Samantha and Monty watch the window intently as the train slows down. Through the dusty fog and blowing sand, they can only make out the silhouettes of buildings and the wooden platform of the train station.
The couple exits the train as soon as it comes to a stop. The moment they step out of the passenger car, their bright clothes get filthy from the dust blowing at them. The husband’s suit and wife’s dress become as red as the desert sand outside. The couple shields their eyes and noses as the sand blows in their faces.
The conductor approaches them and shouts, “Follow me! I’ll lead you two to your luggage.”
Samantha and Monty follow the conductor to the baggage car. It’s a short walk, as the train only has three passenger cars. Through the window of the last-class car, Monty sees the only other passenger sleeping in his seat as the conductor opens the baggage car door and climbs inside. The conductor hands the passengers their bags, locks the baggage car, returns to the locomotive, and disappears into the dusty fog.
The husband struggles to carry both suitcases, one in each hand, as sand pelts his unprotected face. The wife pulls out her umbrella to shield her husband from the sandstorm hitting his face. Monty is grateful for the umbrella, as it provides much-needed relief from the sand and wind. The train whistles as they exit the train station and look for someone to talk to.
“Darling,” Samantha says. “Did you tell your family that we’re arriving today?”
“Yes, I did. I sent the family a telegram telling them to meet us here today, days before we set off.”
“Did they send you a telegram to confirm they’ll be here?”
“No, darling. They live far from the station, so I don’t expect a telegram from them. Plus, they’re not rich, so it’s going to cost them more for the Pony Express to travel that far. I’m trying to be considerate of their budget.”
“Oh, I can’t take this sandstorm anymore. Let’s find a place to stay.”
“What about my family? They might be around here somewhere.”
“Please, Monty. I can feel the sand in my shoes right now. No one will wait for anyone in a situation like this. I need to get away from this storm.”
The husband looks around and sees a building in front of them. He gets closer to read the sign on top of the building and says, “Hey! That general store. I know someone who works there. The store owner is a good friend of my family.”
The couple hurries to the store. Samantha opens the door for her husband, who is still carrying the luggage, and closes it behind them. Inside the general store, the whole place is made out of wood. The store has plenty of open space in the middle for customers to walk around. The counters are like a bar, separating customers from the items on the shelves. Next to the counters are barrels labeled with the names of various goods, such as salt, pepper, and other items. Samantha pulls out a chair to sit on and removes her boots to pour the sand into an empty bucket beside her, seeing that there’s more sand than she expected.
“Garner!” Monty calls out, rushing toward the cash register. “Mr. Garner. It’s me. Monty. You know, Pete and Patty’s kid?”
Monty takes a moment to wait for a response. There is no answer. Monty then hops over the counter and heads to the hallway like he owns the place.
“Monty!” Samantha says. “What are you doing? The store owner is going to get mad.”
“It’s fine, my darling. I know Mr. Garner is okay with me just paying him a visit. I’ve done this plenty of times, so don’t worry.”
Samantha shakes her head over her husband’s cockiness as she removes her other boot and pours more sand into the metal bucket. She hears him repeatedly call for his former employer’s name at the back. While Monty continues searching for his former employer, Samantha notices that the sandstorm outside is dying down. She looks out the window and sees the train they had been on leaving. After the train whistles and departs Rawlins, she looks around the town.
In frustration, Monty steps out of the owner’s space walks around the counter and complains. “Gee. I couldn’t find Mr. or Mrs. Garner anywhere. It’s not like them to leave the store open and have it unattended.”
“Hey, Monty,” Samantha says, staring at the window. “Is that normal right yonder?”
“What do you mean?”
Monty joins his wife at the window. As the sandstorm abates, the dusty fog slowly lifts, revealing a scene of desolation. Feathers are strewn across the road, and more are seen on the rooftops. But there is no sign of life.
“That’s strange,” Monty responds. “I’ve never seen this many feathers around here.” He steps out of the general store to examine the town. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Monty,” Samantha says, putting her boots back on. “Wait for me.”
One of the piles of feathers on the ground in front of the store has Monty kneeling on one knee and picking up a large feather. The feather is thirty inches long, the same length as Monty’s forearm. Its vane is black but has an unusual red reflection. Perhaps it’s the reddish atmosphere that’s causing the unusual reflection. The calamus that Monty is holding has an ivory color, like old bones. Monty rubs the feather’s vane with his index finger, feeling its stiffness and firmness compared to a normal feather. He rubs it more until he touches the edge of the vane, which cuts his fingertip. He lets out an “ouch” as his wife approaches behind him.
As Samantha catches up to her husband, she asks, “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know. This looks like feathers from eagles of some sort, but I’ve never seen feathers this big before.”
Monty looks up as he hears the sounds of horses ahead. He sees two horses that are connected to a wagon. The husband grabs his wife’s hand and leads her to the wagon. The horses look healthy despite enduring the sandstorm. As Monty tries to see what is in the wagon, one of the horses jumps up out of fear and moves hysterically.
Soon, the other horse starts panicking and moves uncontrollably with the other horse. As the husband backs away for safety, Samantha comes in, calming the two horses down by gently stroking their heads simultaneously. Both horses quickly calm down upon feeling her gentle touch, ensuring their safety. “Gee, I almost got kicked by one of them. How are you able to do that?”
“I grew up with horses. I have a way of calming them. By the way, horses wouldn’t act this way unless they’ve been in danger.”
“I doubt it’s the storm,” Monty says. “But I think it has something to do with why Rawlins has so many feathers.”
Monty circles around the tall wagon and examines it closely as Samantha caresses the horses. When he gets behind the wagon, he sees a massive pile of feathers covering the entire surface of the wagon. Monty gets on board and carefully picks up one of the feathers. Upon closer examination, he realizes blood is on the feather he’s holding as one drop of the red liquid falls off the sharp vane. The husband drops the feather out of fright. As he steps back, he notices a hand sticking out of the feather pile.
With much bravery, Monty digs out the feathers by using his suit’s sleeve to push away the feathers and prevent any cuts. Some feathers poke through his sleeve, but Monty pulls them out by holding the quill and clearing the feathers with his suit. It doesn’t take long for him to realize a corpse is in the wagon. When he pushes a feather off the corpse’s face, he sees it’s someone he recognizes. The husband screams out of shock, which gets Samantha’s attention.
“What is it, darling?” the wife shouts.
She walks around the back of the wagon where her husband is. She then sees the same corpse, covered in blood, with her eyes opened wide and lying motionless. Monty holds on to his wife as they both are in shock. As Samantha regains control over herself, she notices her husband weeping.
At that moment, Samantha understands that Monty knows this dead person. He lets go of her, jumps on the wagon, puts his head down on the corpse, and starts to grieve. The young wife can’t help herself from shedding a tear over her husband’s sudden change of emotions.
After giving him time to grieve, she asks, “Darling… who is it?” Monty catches his breath. “It’s…it’s my ma. My ma is dead.”
Hearing that, Samantha goes into shock once more. She takes a couple steps back to step away from the gruesome scene, both hands covering her mouth and nose. Too much anxiety overtakes her self-control, so she covers her mouth and screams as loudly as possible.
The husband lifts his head from his dead mother’s chest. The red mist is gone, but he can see something in the distance past the farm behind his wife covered in sand and feathers. A figure that looks like a bird is flying toward them. As it draws nearer, it becomes less bird-like and more human-like, with wings that match the color of the feathers that were all over town.
Samantha notices her husband staring at something strange as he stops sobbing and stares wide-eyed into the distance.
The wife is too late to see what her husband is seeing, feeling a gust of wind blow past her as she turns. She doesn’t notice the sudden wind blowing her hair and dress. The disturbed lady doesn’t see anything but the farm covered in feathers.
“Monty?” Samantha turns to her husband. “What did you—”
At that moment, she sees her husband is headless, and his body falls on his mother’s corpse, spilling blood all over his dead parent. The gruesome sight gets worse, and Samantha can’t regain self-control. She falls to the ground and screams out of distress. After what she just witnessed, she can’t return to her feet.
In her most unfortunate circumstance, Samantha hasn’t been given time to grieve, as she feels a sharp pain coming through her right shoulder. Her grieving screams suddenly turn into physical pain screams. Incapacitated by the pain, she reaches out with her left hand to feel the sudden injury. She feels the grip of a giant bird of prey, the talons larger than any bird she had ever felt. She opens her eyes to see her deceased husband and mother-in-law in the wagon at her feet and that she is many feet above the ground.
She tries to go back to the earth by shaking her legs, but the pain from the stab wound in her shoulder and being pulled aloft make the situation even more agonizing. The horses are frightened again and run off with Monty and his mother on the wagon. Whatever is holding the suffering wife isn’t bothered by the animals making their escape. Samantha sees a wing from the corner of her eye, but it’s too quick for her to process what she is seeing.
With all of her might, she looks up to see whatever is abducting her. As soon as she makes eye contact with her kidnapper, she feels another giant talon grabbing her by the throat. The unknown flying fiend quickly and effortlessly rips her throat, and Samantha’s screams go silent. Her blood spills from the air to the ground as she’s being taken away.
The horses race as though the wagon is weightless, galloping so quickly that the feathers are blown off the wagon. They race out of Rawlins and into the Red Desert. The fearful animals run off the road, and their path gets so bumpy that the two corpses fall off the wagon. The horses make their escape, still pulling the wagon. Monty’s headless body and his mother’s corpse collapse onto the ground, and their remains roll on the desert’s sand.
After the momentum stops, two corpses lie together, gathering sand as the sandstorm and the sandstorm makes its return. It doesn’t take long until the same mysterious monster flies in and collects their remains. Like a bird of prey, it swoops in and snatches one of the corpses. There’s another creature as well, the same species as the flying beast that slaughtered the married couple, carrying the second corpse off the ground. With the corpses taken away by the beasts flying away, Rawlins is left a ghost town devoid of any sign of life.
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The Boston Post Office Square and Sub-Treasury Building are always busy during opening hours. Constructed with three stories, an additional two stories above the center, and a grand entrance, this complex facilitates the sending and receiving of letters, enabling long-distance communication across the many states of America. The recent expansion of postal services to international destinations further enhances its significance. Within the post office complex, the grand lobby boasts one of the largest interiors in the country, adorned with intricate artistic elements from the flooring to the finely crafted ceiling illuminated by radiant lights. The mail clerks’ counter, spanning almost the length of a football stadium, divides the office spaces behind it, each located within pillars supporting the roof of the first floor.
In this bustling environment, a customer dressed in a matching brown plaid suit and pants, accompanied by a black bowler hat, approaches one of the open mail clerks. Appearing to be in his mid to late twenties, the customer is cleanly shaved but exudes an air of paranoia as he glances around the lobby with anxious eyes.
“Good morning, sir,” the mail clerk greets. “How may I serve you?”
As the customer approaches the clerk, he turns his head to the left, avoiding eye contact. He then places his hand in his suit pocket and speaks in a thick Boston accent. “Hey there,” he says, passing a letter to the clerk. “I need you to mail this for me.”
The clerk retrieves the letter from the customer and notices that both the mailing address and the return address are the same. The customer continues to act suspiciously, turning his head constantly. After a longer-than-usual silence from the clerk, he begins to pay attention to her. He notices her frowning as she reads the letter.
“Is there a problem?” asks the suspicious customer.
“Your return address is 4851 South Nottingham Boulevard, Boston, Massachusetts,” the clerk replies, “I’ve never heard of this address before.”
“Oh, it’s a real place, toots. Just gimme the bill and send it out, will ya?”
“Okay, will you wait here for a moment? I just need to double-check on that address for you.”
The customer looks over his shoulder, “Thanks, toots.”
Rushing to the end of the hallway, the clerk embarks on a lengthy journey from her central station in the lobby. The paranoid customer keeps a watchful eye on her until she disappears through the back door. Once the door closes, he turns around, leans against the counter, and assumes a calm and collected demeanor. While waiting, he begins to whistle loudly, much to the annoyance of nearby customers and clerks. No one confronts him directly, but they glare at him and look away whenever he catches their gaze.
Minutes pass, and still, the same clerk has not returned. Growing suspicious, the customer realizes that the service is taking longer than usual. He ceases his whistling but continues to lean against the counter. Checking his pocket watch, he notes the time: 9:43 AM.
“Gee, what’s taking her so long?” the customer mutters. “I never had to wait this long for the mail to get out.”
He turns behind once more and notices a man standing in line behind him. The man is tall and well-dressed, wearing a dark gray coat, lighter gray pants, polished black shoes, and a brown Boston felt hat. He is estimated to be in his forties, standing at six feet tall. His face is clean-shaven, revealing a long shape with thin lips and a prominently shaped nose. The customer notices the man’s intense dark eyes fixed upon him.
“Hey. Ya sendin’ out mail?” The cocky young one asks.
“Yep,” The man in line responds in a soft-spoken, mid-Atlantic voice. “Just trying to send a birthday letter to a relative of mine.”
“That’s thoughtful of ya,” the one with the Boston accent replies, then looks at the other lines in the same lobby. “Why don’t cha go to the other line and get better service? The mail clerk here is taking her sweet-ass time over here.”
“Eh, I’m a patient man. I have nothing better to do now than mail this birthday letter to a family member of mine.”
“So, huh, your relative is having a birthday, huh? Where ya’ mailing that birthday letter to?”
“My aunt? Well, she lives at 4851 South Nottingham Boulevard.”
The cocky individual says “Well, wish her a happy birthday for me, will ya,” and turns to face the clerk’s desk in front of him. He takes a moment to process the information, realizing that the address the man has just mentioned is the same one he has written on the letter he has handed to the clerk. A wave of confusion washes over him as he ponders what the man has just said. Slowly, he turns back to face the man, one hand in his pocket and the other reaching inside his coat.
“You wouldn’t happen to be Benjamin Stanley, would you?” The man in line pulls a couple of already-opened letters from his brown coat and waves them to him. “We have a couple of clerks working here that reported that you’ve been sending fraudulent documents through mail.” He pulls out one of the letters and reads it out loud, “Here’s one that says, “Mrs. Welks, it comes to our attention that you did not file your taxes this year. We hate to inform you that since your taxes are overdue, you must pay the exact amount of $150 and a late fee of $10. If you do not send back the exact amount on July 23rd, 1899, to the returning address, you’ll be asked to go to your nearest court to explain your reasoning for tax evasion. Signed, the Boston Internal Revenue Service.” Ah, you’ve done an excellent job getting this letter written on a typewriter.”
The mysterious man retrieves another letter from a different envelope and proceeds, “In contrast to the one I presume is in your handwriting,” he reads aloud,” ‘Dear Mr. Gubbernick, this is a notice from the I.R.S. informing you that we have not received your tax return this year and are requesting–’” He pauses his reading. He directs his attention to Benjamin Stanley, “I apologize, but your handwriting is exceedingly difficult to decipher.” He retrieves yet another letter from yet another envelope, “It is the same with his letter. May you read this one out loud for me?”
The suspected fraud begins sweating and counters, “Y-Ya got the wrong guy– I did-didn’t send out those letters. Who are you, anyway?”
The man puts the letters back in his coat, “Oh, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself—”
In a gesture of courtesy, the mysterious man reaches into his coat, retrieving a badge. The badge he presents is unique in its design, featuring a six-pointed star shape. Adorning the top of the badge is a circular plate bearing the inscription “U.S. Post Office Dept. Inspector” along its circumference. The center of the plate exhibits an intricate eagle design, symbolizing authority.
“I’m United States Postal Inspector Jed Pluck,” he declares, “Benjamin Stanley, I place you under arrest for fraudulent documentation and impersonating an Internal Revenue Service official.”
Stanley, realizing the gravity of the situation, attempts to escape by swiftly moving to his left and rushing towards the exit. In his haste, he shoves a customer who is being assisted by a mail clerk out of his way. Reaching the open front door, Stanley is met with a disheartening sight: police officers heading up the entrance stairway outside.
With no other escape route in sight, Stanley turns around, desperate for a way out. However, Postal Inspector Pluck anticipates this move and quickly catches up to the fraud. With a well-executed tackle, Pluck brings Stanley to the ground and promptly handcuffs him. Police officers promptly enter through the front entrance. Working swiftly, they pull the apprehended criminal up from the ground and escort him out of the post office. Exiting the front stairway, Postal Inspector Pluck watches as police officers place Benjamin Stanley in the police wagon. With his arms crossed, the postal inspector smirks at the fraud, who stares back at him through the caged window. As the door at the back of the wagon secures, police officers mount the driver’s seat and whip the reins of the horses, causing the sturdy animals to pull the wagon and transport the fraud to the nearest police station.
“Another fine job you did here, inspector,” the police officer in charge states, watching the wagon move away, “Tell me, how long did it take you to find this guy?”
In response to the policeman’s question, Postal Inspector Pluck remarks, “With over a decade of experience, catching individuals who carelessly leave their return addresses on letters becomes increasingly straightforward. In this specific instance, it only takes three days from the time the letters are reported fraudulent.” He turns to the chief and adds, “To make matters even more convenient, the individual chooses to mail these letters in the same building as my office, making apprehension effortless.”
A chuckle escapes both the officer and the postal inspector as they struggle to maintain their professional demeanor on duty. However, their brief moment of mirth is interrupted by the sound of a bicycle bell, signaling the arrival of a mailman. Dressed in a traditional navy blue coat and pants adorned with large golden buttons, a round hat with a flat top, and a Western Union badge, the mailman dismounts his bicycle and approaches the two officers on foot. The inspector and the chief immediately turn their full attention to the messenger.
“Telegram for Inspector Jed Pluck,” the mailman declares.
“Yes, that’s me.” Pluck replies, “Who’s it from?”
The mailman retrieves the letter from his bag and reads aloud, “The Postmaster General has assigned you to a case in Wyoming involving recent disappearances in the North West region. Post Inspector Louie Secoli will be your partner. He’ll meet you in your office by noon today. Signed, John Wanamaker.” The mailman put away the letter. “That’ll be thirty-five cents.”
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Upon receiving a telegram from the Postmaster General, Mr. Pluck eagerly awaits the arrival of his newly assigned partner in his office situated on the uppermost floor of the Boston Post Office Square. As the noon hour approaches and boredom threatens to overcome him, a knock resounds upon the door of his office. With alacrity, Mr. Pluck hastens to open the door and beholds a man of comparable stature. This individual adorns round spectacles and possesses a brown goatee beard, characterized by a mustache that surpasses the thickness of the hair adorning his chin.
His facial hair makes it difficult to tell what face shape he has, but the rest of his heart-shaped cheekbones and downturned eyes make him come off as friendly to Pluck. The man wears a gray coat, a matching blue plaid suit and pants, and brown shoes. He removes his brown homburg hat when Jed opens the door for him.
Pluck notices that the man is carrying a wooden suitcase in one hand and a round birdcage in the other. Inside, the birdcage contains a budgerigar with yellow feathers on its head, green on its body, and black and yellow spots on its wings and the back of its head. The small parakeet seems content in sitting on the swing hanging in the cage’s center, no matter how much the cage shakes with every.
Noticing the man holding the birdcage, Pluck gets confused by what he’s seeing and has him say, “I’m sorry, but can I help you?”
“Glad to meet you, Inspector Pluck,” the visitor says, dropping his suitcase on the floor to retrieve and show his badge from his coat. “I’m US Postal Inspector Louie Secoli. It’s nice to meet you, partner.”
The inspector shakes Jed’s hand as soon as he puts his badge away. Jed receives an awkward smile from his new partner, still bothered by the birdcage he’s holding. While giving his new partner a firm handshake, Pluck replies, “It’s a pleasure.” Still bothered by the birdcage, he releases his handshake and points at the cage that Secoli is holding. “What’s with the birdcage? Is that a present for me?”
“Oh, Chap?” Secoli laughs. “He’s my companion. I bring him wherever I go. Are you going to let me in?”
Jed stops being distracted and says, “Oh, my apologies. Please step in.”
Inspector Secoli sees Jed’s office has two desks; one is an executive desk placed in the middle of the room, and the other is a rolltop desk that’s against the window with a good view of Boston Square. There is a carpet underneath the executive desk, a trash can that still needs to be emptied, and four wooden chairs with armrests. Two are facing the executive desk, and the other is behind the desk. Jed sits behind his executive desk while Secoli sits in the visitor’s chair, places the suitcase on the floor on his side, and sets his birdcage on the other chair next to him.
“This morning, I received a telegram from Postmaster General Wanamaker that said you have all the information I need to know about this case,” Pluck says, getting comfortable in his chair. “I rarely get any communication directly from the president’s most trustworthy executive, so this is certainly a high priority. So what of these disappearances that are happening in Wyoming?”
Secoli takes a paper out of his jacket pocket and passes it to Pluck. Pluck sees the letter has the US Postal Inspection Service stamp on it and reads:
Washington, D.C.
Inspector Secoli: I’m assigning you to Inspector Jed Pluck in Boston to investigate Wyoming’s mysterious disappearances. Inside this package is one of many pieces of evidence of what’s left of this series of disappearances. Keep this case and its evidence confidential, stop the perpetrators, and report back to us if you find any survivors.
John Wanamaker: 11:13 P.M.
“For the last couple of days,” Louie says, seeing Jed putting down the letter, “many in the North and Southeast have had trouble communicating with anyone in Wyoming. We haven’t had a single response from that state through telegram or telephone for days, and it’s getting Congress worried despite the neighboring states reporting that they’re doing fine.”
“You sure it isn’t telephone lines being cut by outlaws or some hooligans?” Pluck says, putting the letter on top of his desk.
“If it was, Western Union would have already fixed the damage days ago. Their workers said the connections to Wyoming are fine, but there hasn’t been any mail coming out of the state for over a week. However, the last train that came back from the West reported that many of the towns with a railway and train station are ghost towns.”
“Ghost towns?” Jed leans forward with a brow raised. “What’s the cause of these disappearances? Do we have any eyewitnesses or evidence of the cause?”
“We have no witnesses other than the last train to Wyoming. The conductor assigned to search for people couldn’t find life in the towns of Cheyenne, Laramie, Rock River, and Rawlins. However, when the conductor went farther to Rock Springs and Lemonstown, those were the only towns with the population gone unharmed.”
“Wait. I thought you said no one could reach any of the towns in Wyoming because of the disappearances. How are those two the only towns still with people in them?”
“Well, that’s because the farthest town with a telephone line or telegram is Rawlins. I checked it on the telegraph line map. Wyoming is one of those states where telegraphic communication is still under development.”
“Has that conductor warned the citizens of those towns of the other towns’ disappearances?”
“I hope so. The report did say that those operating those trains to Wyoming couldn’t go any further to see any survivors since the sandstorms had become too much for the train to handle, and they had to turn back.”
“Okay, so when is the effective time to set off to Wyoming?” Secoli pulls out train tickets and places them on Jed’s desk. “The effective time is this afternoon at three.”
“At three? Aw shucks, Louie. I need to call my family to let them know I’m leaving Boston again.” Pluck turns to his rolltop desk behind him and grabs the telephone. The telephone is a candlestick model. Jed lifts the receiver off the switch hook and places it against his left ear. He then uses the rotary dial to enter each of the numbers to enter the phone number of his family. After entering the number, he leans forward and puts his lips close to the carbon microphone.
Louie then puts his attention on his bird, Chap. He sticks his index finger between the bars and rubs the budgie’s head. It’s a relatively small cage, so he can reach the small bird’s head. The bird doesn’t mind Louie patting its head, making the bird’s owner smile. As he does that, he overhears Jed speaking on the telephone.
“Hello? Allie? Yes, this is your father. Listen, I need your mother on the telephone—yes, this is urgent.” As Jed waits for his wife to get on the line, he looks over his shoulder to see Louie playing with his pet. Seeing the bird being very calm and trusting, his owner distracts him. Then he hears his wife’s voice on the line. He turns back to his roll-top desk.
“Yes, Clara? It’s me, Jed. Hey, listen. I have a case in Wyoming. I know, darling. It’s only been a week since I resolved the case in Georgia, but this case is coming from the postmaster general. I cannot say no to that order. Yes, it’s in Wyoming. Yes, it’s far, but this is an emergency. Apparently, I’m being asked to investigate a series of disappearances. That’s right. So how long will it take you to pack up my luggage? I’m leaving today at three this afternoon. I know it’s so soon. I just need one suitcase with clothes that will last me a week. Hold on for a second.”
Pluck pulls away from the phone. “Hey, Louie. Which train station are we going to?”
Louie stops playing with the bird and replies, “The same one I got off at. South Station.”
“Thanks.” Pluck turns back to the microphone. “It’s South Station. Yes, the one that was just opened recently. Yes, I’ll meet you there. Oh, one more thing, my love. Can you please bring the girls so I can say goodbye to them before my train departs? Thanks, darling. Should I send someone to give you and the children a ride to meet me there? I won’t have time to stop by at home. Okay, you tell Darla that I owe her one when I get back. See you then. I love you.”
Pluck hangs up the phone.
“Oh. There’s one more thing I almost forgot to tell you, Jed.” After putting the telephone away, Pluck turns to his partner and asks, “What is it?”
“I almost forgot the evidence that the conductor brought back. One common thing that all the disappearing towns have is that they’re covered in feathers.”
“Feathers? Now, that’s ridiculous. What do feathers have to do with these Wyomingites’ disappearances? Do you think it might be outlaws or Native Americans using the feathers to leave their mark?”
Louie pulls up his suitcase to his lap and opens it. He pulls out a thirty-inch feather, colored black, with a red tint as the light from the window touches it. Louie holds it by the quill and shows it to Jed. Jed is in awe of what his partner is holding and leans closer to the bizarre object.
“Is that feather real?” Jed tilts his head. “No. It isn’t, is it?”
Secoli hands the feather to Pluck. Pluck gets up and reaches for the feather’s tip. As he touches it, the edge of the vane pokes his thumb and startles him from the unexpected pain. Louie simultaneously is startled by his partner’s reaction of pulling back the feather. Jed uses his other hand to cover his injured thumb.
“Sorry,” Secoli says. “I forgot to tell you to be careful. The edge of the feather is razor sharp. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before.”
“Damn. Well, please be less forgetful ahead of time, won’t ya?”
Louie places the evidence next to the tickets. Learning from his lesson, Pluck holds the calamus of the feather. As he receives it, he sits back in his chair and closely examines the evidence. Inspector Pluck is distracted by the size of the evidence and how the light touches the feather, as its highlight is red while the rest is nearly silhouette. He uses his other hand to touch the vane, avoiding the edges.
“Good Lord,” Pluck says. “This thing is so uncanny. And the feathers feel like needles. This thing is just unreal.”
“I couldn’t say it better myself. Take a look at how dangerous this thing is.” As Louie closes his suitcase and puts it on the floor, Pluck sniffs at the feather. The feather’s stench is so foul that the postal inspector pulls his head back and nearly lets go of the feather. While examining the feather, Secoli gets up and takes a piece of paper from Pluck’s desk. Pluck then pays attention to what Secoli is doing.
As his partner still holds on to the feather, Secoli places the top center of the paper under the bottom of the vane’s edge. Instantly, he pulls the paper upwards, cutting the paper in half. Pluck is surprised he doesn’t lose his grip or feel any push back of the feather splitting the paper. Louie points at one half of the paper that he’s holding while the other falls to the ground.
“See how dangerous this thing is?” Louie throws the split paper he’s holding into the trash next to Pluck’s desk. “Whatever this thing is, it can cut like a knife. Why it’s all over Wyoming is beyond me. Whoever or whatever this belongs to or where they came from tells me this is no ordinary case.”
Louie sits back down. Still holding the feather, Pluck pulls a small knife from this desk drawer and attempts to cut the feather’s vane. The feather is durable, as the knife hardly leaves a scratch on the evidence.
“This feather… it can’t be real. Do you suspect it could be some kind of giant eagle? Because no bird I know of has a feather this size. Not to mention a feather as sharp as this.”
“I gave up my childhood dreams of finding Bigfoot a long time ago, so I don’t believe in fairy tales or ghost stories any more. But I don’t know what to make of this.”
“This is one giant bird that I like to see myself.”
Delete Created with Sketch.
The Governor Michael S. Dukakis Transportation Center at South Station is the largest train station in the United States, possibly the biggest in the world. The giant train station opened this year, replacing the several terminals once all over Boston into a singular hub for long-distance travelers. Jed is with his new partner and his family at the terminal. Standing in front of them is the train, which remains at the terminal. Some people are boarding now, but there’s still time for Jed to spend what’s left of it with family. It’s still crowded at the terminal’s dock, leaving only elbow room to move around.
Jed’s four daughters are all hugging Dad tightly right now. His oldest child, Jessie, is a teenager who dresses older than her fifteen years of age. Strong similarities exist between her and her mother, Clara, with the exception that she shares her father’s long raven hair.
The second-oldest, Julia, who is twelve years old, shares her mother’s light brown hair but more closely resembles her father due to his long face and round eyes. Allie, the second-youngest, shares Julia’s appearance, but she is shorter and two years Allie’s junior. Janet, the youngest, still maintains some baby fat at age six, giving her chubby facial features. Little Janet wears more stylishly, similar to the doll she is carrying, in contrast to her three sisters, who dress in outfits suited for their ages.
The family always delivers really tight hugs as they say farewell. While the others are giving him front, back, and side hugs, the one in the middle is invariably the one who is departing. Janet, however, receives a consoling hug because she is the youngest and lightest. The girls release simultaneously, and Jed sees them all crying, upset that he’s leaving so soon.
“Daddy, why do you have to go?” cries Janet. “You just got back.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Jed puts the littlest one down. “But it’s my job, and America needs me again.”
“Daddy,” Jessie says, “how much longer will you be a postal inspector? It’s just not fair that you’ve been gone for weeks, and you have to leave us again.”
Jed tries hard not to shed a tear, unable to fathom his girls’ sadness. “Oh, come on, Jessie. You know our country needs me. Someday, when you get a job, you’ll realize how much you’re needed.”
“But you’re needed here! Allie’s birthday is next week.”
“Are you going to miss my birthday, Daddy?” Allie asks.
“No. Of course not, Allie,” Jed says. “I know how much your ninth birthday means to you. There’s no way I’m going to miss it.”
“You promise?” Allie says. “You missed Jessie’s birthday a month ago, and she isn’t too pleased with you.”
Jed is unable to respond to Allie. He turns to his wife, who looks upset but not as sad as the children. Clara approaches her husband as the girls give their parents some space.
Clara says, fixing the lapel on Jed’s brown coat, “Please take good care of yourself, Hun. You’ve never been to Wyoming, and you don’t know what it’s like out there.”
“I know that, Clara. And don’t worry—no postal inspector has ever been harmed in the line of duty, and I won’t be the first either.”
“Yes, Jed. But I can’t help worrying about you whenever you’re not around.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. Just watch our girls while I’m gone, and I promise to treat you to a good restaurant when I return. It’s been a long time since you and I went out on a date, hasn’t it?”
As Clara and Jed continue their conversation, the girls focus on Inspector Louie Secoli. The four are in awe of the budgerigar in the cage that he holds. The bird’s presence cheers the sisters up.
“That’s a cute bird you have there, Mr. Secoli,” Allie comments.
“I’ve never seen a bird like this before,” Janet says as she holds her doll. “What’s your bird’s name?”
“Oh, this little guy?” Louie responds. “His name is Chap. He’s a budgerigar.”
“What’s a bu-budge…” the youngest struggles to say.
“It’s pronounced ‘budgerigar.’ They’re a small breed of parakeet from Australia.”
“Chap is so cute!” Allie says. “I love his yellow head and striped wings.”
“How long have you had Chap, Mr. Secoli?” Julia asks.
“Chap and I have been since he hatched out of his egg. That makes him seven years old.”
“Ooh. That’s wonderful,” Jessie responds.
“I want a parakeet!” Allie turns to her parents. “Mommy! Daddy! Can we get a parakeet for my birthday? I want one that’s as big as an eagle! Just like the one on your badge, Daddy!”
The train whistle’s piercing sound cuts through the terminal and interrupts everyone’s conversations. The conductor rings a bell to tell the passengers to board the train. Jed and Clara break away from their conversation. As Jed turns to pick up his suitcase, the girls run behind him and give him one more group hug.
“Where’s my soon-to-be birthday girl?” Jed turns around, picks Allie up, and hugs her. “I’m going to miss you. I’ll do my best to make it to your birthday this year.”
The whole family gives the father a tighter hug than the last. Louie reaches his assigned car and puts his luggage and the birdcage on the platform leading to the car’s door. As he gets to the back of the car, he sees his partner still being embraced by his family. The man feels guilty about involving their father in this case after seeing how much the family loves each other.
The Plucks release their family hug as the train whistle blows once more. Jed catches up with Louie, who’s already in the passenger car. Louie picks one of the two-person seats closest to the car’s door. Jed gets into the passenger car, and Secoli places his birdcage on the seat. Jed sees his partner pick the seat next to the car’s back door as he crouches down and puts his suitcase underneath their assigned seat.
Secoli gets up and says, “Sit by the window to wave your family goodbye.” Louie moves aside for his partner to put his suitcase underneath his seat, next to his luggage. As Jed takes a seat, he sees his family through the window and waves at them. Once Louie places the birdcage on his lap, he sees Jed’s wife and daughters through the window waving back. The train pulls away, and as it picks up speed Jed’s family becomes lost in the crowd of the train station.
The two passengers see that the train passes the dock and exits the terminal’s interior. Jed continues to look through the window, seeing six tracks in front of him and many trains passing by. Once the train moves at top speed, Jed turns to Louie, who’s petting his budgie on the head with his index finger. “Hey, Louie. Do you ever think maybe it’s a bit unprofessional to bring
that bird along?”
“You’re not the first who’s told me that. Don’t worry. I got approval to bring Chap while on duty. This budgerigar gives me a lot of joy and helps me do my job well.”
“What if someone decides to—forgive me for saying this—take your bird hostage when you’re in a line of duty? What will you do?”
“Funny that you brought that up.” Louie takes his index finger out from between the cage bars. “I was in a case where someone had committed mail theft. When I tracked him down and confronted him, he snatched Chap from me as his hostage. He stuck a knife at Chap…” He takes a moment before continuing. “And threatened to kill him if I didn’t let him go. You know what I did, Jed?”
“What?”
“I pulled out my pistol and shot him in the shoulder.”
“Good God! You didn’t get in trouble for that, did you?”
“The suspect was armed and held my muse hostage, so I considered it justifiable to make that decision.”
“Did your supervisor ever take issue with you taking Chap everywhere you go?”
“He did for a while until he noticed I couldn’t perform well on duty without him. When I showed him how much better I am with Chap around—well, I shoot better, get the paperwork done twice as fast, and solve postal cases better than anyone in Washington.”
“I see… but don’t you worry about others not taking you seriously? I mean, Americans are relying on us postal inspectors to do their job well… and you’re carrying that bird around.”
Louie gets annoyed with the comment and replies, “Let me explain this to you, Jed Pluck. I’m one of the best on the East Coast. I’ve locked up so many crooks and solved so many cases that many of my peers would never have figured out if I hadn’t been involved. I bring Chap with me almost everywhere I go, and even when he’s in danger, I make it clear, time and time again, to never mess with my muse. Whenever that happens, I demonstrate what happens, even if he’s in danger.”
Louie grips the birdcage tighter. The budgie chirps louder as it notices his owner getting emotional.
“I’ve been through some very tough times in my life,” Louie continues, “and the only thing keeping me going is having Chap by my side. It’s not that I want Chap with me—I need him. Do you understand where I’m coming from, Jed?”
Pluck sees this as a sensitive topic for his partner. Louie’s straight eye contact and serious look make this conversation uncomfortable.
“Okay, okay,” Pluck says. “I got the picture. I’m sorry, all right?”
Secoli loosens the grip of the birdcage. The budgie feels his owner calming down and stops making loud chirps.
“Good.” Louie turns away. “I hope we’ll never have this conversation again.”
Pluck feels guilty about how south the conversation has gone. He stares at the little parakeet standing on the birdcage’s swing in a different light. He looks at Louie, who appears to be wishing to be somewhere else, as he looks away. This is no way for postal inspectors to behave. If Pluck still has issues with Secoli carrying his bird around, how will they solve this case?
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll ensure Chap will be protected.” Louie raises an eyebrow. “Do you mean it?”
“If Chap means that much to you, I’ll defend him at all costs so you can do your best job here.”
“You mean it, Jed?”
“You have my word. I’m considering getting a bird like that since my girls love him. Say, where did you find a bird like that?”
“Seven years ago, when I used to live with my ex-wife in England. Budgerigars are quite popular in that country despite them coming from Australia. We had a set of budgerigars in the house, and I love those birds to death.” Louie sighs. “But because I put way more attention on them, it affected my marriage—well, that’s one of the reasons. Though she claimed the budgerigars in court, I managed to take one of their eggs. Then he hatched and became mine to keep. Since then, Chap and I have become inseparable.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” Pluck genuinely smiles. “Hey, Louie. You think I can get a budgerigar somewhere in America?”
“I haven’t seen any budgerigars in any pet store or state I’ve been in. You’re better off visiting England and getting one there since it’s a better option than traveling to Australia.”
“Drat.” Pluck puts his head down. “Looks like I’m going to have to get Allie a different bird in Wyoming then. You’ve been to Wyoming before?”
“Nope. Never. You?”
“This is my first time as well.” Jed sighs. “Looks like I’m going to have to figure out what present I should get for Allie. God willing, we get this case solved and get back home before August 15.”