It's crime blinder time.
I should be in the barn, putting the prowler to bed. Instead, I'm finishing a call, a premise check, a perimeter breach in a construction yard off the South Bridge.
The radio crackles, interrupting the quiet.
"7Nora3,"
The call's not for me.
"7Nora3," the night officer responds.
"Car stuck on the tracks: 12th and King."
The location is a drunk trap, north of the Villages where the Union Pacific line bends to the river and stretches into the city, luring intoxicated drivers off the road and a few blocks down the tracks.
"Dispatch can you call the railroad let them know?" 7Nora3 asks, and then adds, "And no, I won't be able to lay flares a mile in each direction."
It's a fool's errand.
The dispatcher has to ask the DC to call the railroad call center in Omaha, who in turn, sends word to the west coast trains.
If an engine's close, there'll be collision before the engineer hears the warning.
Back in my car, clearing the call, heading in, heading home, I tease the 7Nora3.
Type, DUII!!!
Hit send.
"Don't jinx me," he replies.
I do.
Windows down, entering the north highway linking the Villages to the city, I hear a low rumble under the pipes and drums of the Wicked Tinkers shuffling out the car radio.
I turn off the radio. Hit the spot light. Aim it at the tracks paralleling the roadway.
7David4. There's a train en route to the wreck.
The tail is north of the South Bridge Road.
I'm gonna to try to get ahead of it,
at 17th and Payne, at the beginning of the bend,
and see if I can stop it.
I go.
I toggle the lights, scream the siren, and step on the accelerator. The streets dissolve into a melting stream of red brake lights pulling to my right. I pass them and press on, off the highway, on to 17th, pausing at Breakers Boulevard, and blast on to the bend.
A row of warehouses hides the train.
I anchor it, pop the trunk, snag three flares, and run for the rail line.
I beat the train.
I light the sticks, drop one to the ground, and face the sole headlight of the oncoming train with the other two. With red phosphorous sparking and snapping, I try to stop the train, extending my arms out, then in, crossing my forearms with the flares again and again as the train closes, it's horn blaring.
I wave faster, ready to run, if I fail.
And then, the engine stops less than two blocks away. I drop the second flare and walk with the last to the train.
The engineer greets me,
"What's going on?"
There's a car stuck on the tracks around 12 and King.
I saw you heading north from the highway.
I knew I had race ahead and try to stop you.
The engineer tilted his head, took a breath and said,
"Officer, you did a good thing, a really good thing."