"We have an investigation to conduct. Remember?" Remo said.
"Right. Right. We're gettin' to that." Addressing K.C., Melvis said, "Me and the DOT boys here were just tryin' to make out what this other engine was. Maybe you know, bein' with Rail Fan and all."
K.C. squinted one eye and then the other at the black engine. She wore a green-striped white engineer's cap on her head, and she adjusted the bill several times.
"It ain't a switcher."
"That's for sure," Melvis agreed.
"Not an Alco, either."
"Don't have any livery to speak of. Which in itself is plumb peculiar. K.C. gal, you happen to know whose track this is?"
"Burlington Northern."
"Sure ain't a Burlington Northern diesel. Their color scheme is Cascade green."
K.C. nodded. "Whatever it is, it sure don't belong on this line."
"Sure is a shame about this Genesis."
K.C.'s face fell. "And it was my first Genesis, too!"
"Hate to break it to you so rough, but it may be your last if Amtrak loses the good fight. This wreck sure won't persuade Congress to keep her goin'."
K.C. broke down at that point.
"Now, don't you get me started," Melvis blubbered. "I'm a sentimental cuss when it comes to high iron."
While they shared a handkerchief, Remo and Chiun started looking through the scattered debris.
"Maybe one of these pieces will tell us something," Remo said.
Melvis called over, "Man, if true rail fans like me and K.C. here can't tell by lookin' at the back end, no fragments will help."
"It's gotta be something."
"Perhaps it is Japanese," suggested Chiun.
Melvis perked up. "Think you'd recognize her if she were?" To K.C., he said, "That little fella used to ride steam trains back in Korea all the time. Family had their own private car."
"Golleee," K.C. said, eyes drying. "Doubly pleased to meet you, sir. Would you kindly consent to an interview for my magazine? I don't think we've ever run an article on Korean steam."
"Can we save this for the next convention?" Remo demanded.
"Allow me to examine this beast for clues to its ancestry," Chiun said loftily.
The Master of Sinanju began to walk around to the black engine, Remo and Melvis following, while K.C. peppered him with questions.
"What kinda engine was it?" K.C. asked.
"A Mikado 2-8-2," Melvis said proudly.
"Never heard of it. Was it a narrow gauger?"
"Yep," Melvis said.
"Elephant ears?"
"No ears. No cowcatcher. Just bumpers," said Melvis.
"Whose tale is this?" Chiun demanded.
"Sorry," said Melvis, grinning sheepishly.
To Remo, Chiun said, "Why do you not hang on my every word as these two do?"
"My brain hasn't been steamed," Remo grumbled.
"Aw, you're just sore on account of you were born too late to catch the steam bug."
"You could run every train on earth off Niagara Falls, and I wouldn't care," said Remo.
Melvis and K.C. gasped like two old maids.
"Such language!" K.C. said. "Shame on you. This great nation was built on rails. Trains don't pollute, fall out of the sky like planes or lose a body's luggage, either."
Chiun came to a dead stop. Throwing his head back, he struck a heroic pose, hands fisted, tight to his hips. "It is not Japanese," he pronounced.
"How do you know?" asked Melvis.
One long-nailed finger-on the undamaged, left hand, Remo noticed-pointed to a sooty string of seemingly meaningless letters and numbers low on the side of the black engine.
"Japanese do not use the English letter l. "
"You got a point there."
"So what is it?" asked Remo.
"Look," K.C. said, whirling.
Remo and Chiun whirled in unison, eyes going in the direction of her excitedly pointing fingers.
On the parallel UP track, a train was coming. The engine, Remo saw, was painted in mottled desert-camouflage livery.
"Do I see what my eyes are tellin' me I'm seem'?" Melvis asked breathlessly.
"If you're not dreaming, neither am I," K.C. breathed.
"What is it?" Remo asked, concern in his voice.
"I do not know," Chin said grimly, "but it is painted a warlike color."
"That there must be one of the last units on the Union Pacific still tricked out in Desert Storm camouflage colors," Melvis said, awe coloring his tone.
"What?"
"It's true. Back durin' Desert Storm, the Union Pacific painted a number of their SD40-2's just like that one yonder to show support for our troops in the Gulf."
"Kinda takes your breath away, don't it?" K.C. said.
"Amen. Diesel always makes my heart go hippityhop."
As the engine rattled by, both Melvis and K.C. took off their hats and laid them over their hearts. The rest of the train consisted of old boxcars painted in assorted colors, their sides dusty and peeling.
"Makes your heart pound like an old kettledrum to see such a rare sight, don't it?" Melvis said. "And look at them HyCube boxcars. They're runnin' on eight-wheeled trucks. I never saw the like of it."
"Down Sonora way I once saw an Alco RSD12, highballing like a bat out of hell." K.C. blushed. "Excuse me-Hades."
"High nose or low?" Melvis asked as the railcars flitted by.
"High. Painted burned orange."
Melvis sighed. "Life can be sweet sometimes."
"I got pictures of it. Wanna see 'em?"
"Swap you an Alco RSD12 for a FPA4, with Napa Valley wine-train livery."
"Deal!"
As Remo watched with increasing incredulity, they pulled out their wallets and began exchanging snapshots of diesels they had known and loved.
While they were lost in reminiscences, Remo found a thin piece of twisted black metal. "This look like a piece of a fan blade to you, Little Father?"
Chiun examined it with narrowing eyes. "Yes."
"Awful big fan."
Remo called over to Melvis. "How big of a fan on the Genesis?"
He had to repeat the question and go spin Melvis around in place before he got his attention refocused.
"Hey, none of that now!" Melvis roared.
"What's this look like to you?" Remo demanded, holding the metal in front of his face.
"Looks like a whopper fan blade."
"Off what?"
"Ain't off the Genesis," K.C. said.
"That's a fact. Looks too old."
"So it's off the other engine?" suggested Remo.
"Gotta be."
"The fan blades are mounted on top for cooling the engine, right?"
"Yeah, but that looks too big to be off an enginefan blade."
"So that leaves what?" Remo asked impatiently.
"You know," K.C. said, "I once heard about a critter called a rail zeppelin."
"Ain't no such animal," Melvis insisted hotly.
"Is, too."
"Let her tell it," Remo said, giving Melvis an eyepopping neck squeeze.
"Back in the thirties, when they were experimenting with high-speed rail, someone built a streamlined railcar with a great big old airplane engine attached."
"Do tell," said Melvis, fingering his collar.
"It's true. The propeller was in back, pusher style. When she started to spin, the rail zep took off like nothing natural."
"How fast she go?" asked Melvis.
"Don't rightly recollect. But they broke a few landspeed records for that time."
"This doesn't look like an airplane blade," Remo said.
"He's right, at that," K.C. said.
"So that means what?" said Remo tiredly.
"Hell, only thing I can think of is a rotary-plow train," said Melvis.
"What's that?" asked Remo.
"You seen snowplows?"
"Sure," said Remo.
"Imagine a big old engine with a big old rotaryplow blade framed in the front, like a big old lamprey's mouth with whirlin' fan blades instead of teeth."
K.C. looked back at the squashed black engine. It had round portholes on its sides instead of windows.