Scrap Metal (Short Story) by Rhonda Parker

The sun was beginning to set over the mountains, and faint tinges of darkness started to settle over the landscape. Splashes of color began to be painted on the edges of the horizon, outlining the mountains with twilight. Shadows crept across the trees and started obscuring them from view.

Under this false cover of night, two silhouettes could be seen, one taller than the other. They were headed across a rocky patch of grass and dirt, towards a sloping hill.

“Come on, Harold, quit dragging your tail,” the shorter of the two men said in a teasing tone as they got closer to the rise.

“Aw, shut up, Tommy,” the other shot back. Harold was taller and heavier than his friend, who could scramble up hills like a billy goat. But even though he was faster and more agile, Tommy would always wait for Harold.

In many ways, Harold and Tommy were a lot alike. Tommy was almost a contradiction to his Appalachian roots. Harold had always heard that people in the South were nosy gossips who had to know – and tell – everybody’s business.

On the one hand, Tommy liked solitude but not too much of it. He said it wasn’t the loneliness as much as it was the quiet. He needed some noise every now and then, more than just the sounds of the forest.

Tommy also wanted people to be around, but on his terms. He had a social meter like a city dweller, but it filled up fast and he would withdraw when he got overwhelmed. But until he did, he would be one of the most jovial and warm people in the room.

Harold had known Tommy since he moved to the area three years ago. His part of the country became too crowded, and he wanted to put more space between himself and his neighbors. So, in an effort to start over, Harold chose to make his new home outside of cities and towns. And the southern mountains offered plenty of distance – from home, from his past, from other people.

The other people in their holler seemed to like Harold, even though they were still deciding if they could really trust an outsider. But Tommy had taken a liking to Harold almost instantly. He’d never met a stranger, and he had a habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt.

It was fused into Harold’s nature at an early age not to trust people easily, but Tommy had ignored all of the walls he built. Not in a rude way, but more of a patient, “willing to wait Harold out” kind of way.

Once Harold let Tommy in, the two of them talked almost every day. Tommy quizzed him about his life up north, why he wanted to move down south just five years after the War Between the States, and anything he could think of that wasn’t too rude to ask. Before long Harold found himself doing the same thing.

Tommy liked learning about people and places and anything he could work with or tinker with. Especially machinery.

So it wasn’t surprising when he told Harold that he’d found something out at the old train yard and he wanted his friend to go back there with him.

“The one that the government shut down a few years ago?” He’d given Tommy a look of disbelief. “That yard?”

“Yep.”

“What were you doing out there?”

Tommy grinned, the one missing tooth near the back of his smile obvious. “Exploring.”

Harold rolled his eyes. “Exploring.” If he knew Tommy at all, he knew he meant trespassing. “And what if there had been guards out there? They could have shot you.”

A wicked gleam lit up Tommy’s eyes. “They’d of had to catch me first.”

“One of these days you won’t be able to run from something, and then what?”

“Well, I guess the party’s over. But until then I might as well show up and play. Now come on, you gotta see this, Harold.”

So Harold reluctantly followed Tommy out to the decommissioned train yard, and hoped they wouldn’t get caught. Or worse.

They scrambled over the rise – well, Tommy scrambled over and Harold did good to get up the hill at a semi-decent clip – and once they caught up to each other the two friends descended into the train yard. Gravel crunched beneath their booted feet.

It was quiet. Not too quiet, but enough to be noticeable. Even the sounds of the forest like the crickets and the birds were muted. Harold could still hear them, but as if from a distance. It didn’t make sense.

“Tommy, I don’t hear the forest as much over here. Is the hill big enough to block the sound?”

Tommy waved Harold’s comment away. “That’s the noise suppressor the railroad company installed. It’s still active, but I cut the wires to the alarm last time I was here.”

“You what?!”

“Calm down, it wasn’t that hard. This way.” Tommy darted forward into the growing darkness. Harold groaned and tried to keep up, following his friend more by sound than sight.

After a while, Tommy stopped at one of the decrepit engines and pulled a small lantern out of his rucksack. He carefully flicked it on and the glow illuminated part of the time-worn locomotive. Even in its current state, there was still a touch of majesty about the machine, as if time hadn’t been able to wear down the core of what it once was.

“It’s an old steam engine,” Harold said in a bored voice.

“It’s a 4-4-0 American type, probably a first generation,” Tommy whispered. “These things are better at handling the curves and steep grades we’ve got around here. But it ain’t the outside I brought you to see, Harold.”

With the practiced hand of a sneaky explorer, Tommy gently opened the door into the cab of the engine and held up the light.

Harold stumbled back in fear. A man stood there, pale in the lantern light. His head was turned towards them, an unnerving smile on his face. Then, as he stared at the man, Harold noticed that he didn’t move. He wasn’t breathing.

“What in the blazes IS that, Tommy?!”

“It’s an automaton.”

Harold blinked. He knew about the automatons up north, but he didn’t realize they’d made their way down south yet. And as distrustful as people in Appalachia could be, Harold was surprised they even allowed it to be here. Then again, the railroad companies weren’t known for asking the locals what they thought.

Harold had only run into an automaton once, and it wasn’t a pleasant memory.

“This must have been one of those crewless engines. You know, the ones that can drive themselves? Well, this here is the engineer who drove it.” Tommy’s face lit up in the way that only machines could make it do.

“And the railroad company left it here?”

“Yeah! So he’s scrap metal. And that means he’s ours.”

Harold realized then that Tommy hadn’t just brought him here to see this machine. He wanted his friend to help him steal it.

“No. No way.”

“Oh come on, Harold–”

“I’m not a thief.”

“Neither am I! This is scrap. They left him here to rust. They didn’t want him. But think about what he could do! I bet old lady Thompson would love to have Mr. Metal Man here guarding her still. Maybe even running it!”

Harold rolled his eyes. “The first thing you thought of using it for was to make moonshine?”

Tommy looked a little crestfallen. “Well, not exactly. But I know Miss Thompson has trouble with her still sometimes and I thought maybe he could help. Her back’s getting worse and she can’t move around like she used to.”

Harold hung his head a little. He should have known that was Tommy’s motivation. He was a helper. He was always looking for ways to be a light for others, even in the smallest ways.

But this was wrong, scrap metal or not. “Tommy, I know you think this thing–”

“Him.”

It was a machine. An automaton. Not a person. But Harold let that slide for now. “Okay, him. Maybe he can be useful, but this belongs to the railroad company. We can’t just take it.”

Tommy’s eyes pleaded with Harold. “He got left behind. They didn’t think he was worth taking. But I do. I can tinker with him and fix him up. Please, Harold. I can’t take him home by myself. I need your help.”

A deep sigh escaped Harold’s lips. He knew Tommy’s heart was in the right place. And maybe he could get the automaton working again. Repurposed for a new life in the holler instead of rusting away in the train yard.

He resigned himself to his fate. “Okay, Tommy.”

“Thanks, Harold.” Tommy pulled a set of tools out of his bag. “Let’s set Mr. Metal Man free.”

It took a good hour for the two friends to dismantle the couplings holding the automaton in place. Tommy stopped Harold a few times to deactivate an alarm or other safety measure, but eventually the automaton was released from its post.

“There we go! All free.” Tommy started examining the machine. “Hm. I don’t see a connector to plug him in. And it has to have some kind of power source to work…” He began to tap on the machine with his knuckles.

“What are you looking for?”

“Control panel. He’s gotta have one somewhere…” A sound less hollow than the others rang out from the automaton’s back. “Got it.”

Tommy grabbed a screwdriver and made short work of opening the panel. “Yep. He’s made to move around. Looks like something makes the steam that runs the gears… no fuel left in the reservoir, though.” Tommy closed the control panel and replaced the screws holding it in place, then dusted off his hands. “Now we just have to get him home.”

“How much does that thing weigh?”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know. But between the two of us we should be able to carry him.”

Harold wasn’t so sure, but they were in too deep now. “Alright, let’s go.”

Tommy and Harold gently lifted the automaton up and away from its post. The metal creaked just slightly, but in the quiet of the night it sounded like a shriek.

“Good grief, that was loud!”

Tommy grunted. “Don’t worry about it. Ain’t nobody here.”

They carefully maneuvered themselves and the automaton down the steps. With a metallic thunk, their prize was standing upright with his feet on the ground. In the moonlight, the slight smile on Mr. Metal Man’s face somehow became colder.

“Whew! He’s heavier than he looks. Definitely not made of aluminum.”

“I bet we can find something to help us carry Mr. Metal Man out of here.” Tommy walked over to a nearby passenger car, which looked like it had seen better days than the steam engine had. Several of its windows were broken or blown out, and most of the seats were worn and faded. It was lying at a slant, but not so much of one as to keep them from walking into it.

Tommy stood there in the aisle for a moment or two, then he grinned. Even in the darkness Harold could see the clever pride on his friend’s face. “I think we can tear out one of these seats and carry him on it.”

Harold thought for a second, then agreed. “If we can find a couple of poles or rods, we can make a litter.”

“What’s a litter?”

“It’s something they used to carry important people like royalty around. Have you ever seen a drawing or picture of those chairs with the poles, and two men carrying it? There’s a person sitting in the chair–”

“Oh, yeah! I know what you’re talking about now. I seen one in a book. Guess Mr. Metal Man gets the royal treatment tonight!”

The two friends crafted a makeshift litter using a seat and some poles they found next to the steam engine. Tommy looked over their handiwork.

“Not too shabby,” he said in a pleased tone. “Maybe I can fix it up after we get home and somebody can use it as something else. I could even put a stronger base and some wheels on it…”

Harold sighed, then shook his head. Tommy was always thinking about the next project, even before the current one was done.

“Let’s get this over with first, and then you can think about the chair.”

“Ticket, please.”

The metallic yet human-sounding voice came out of the darkness in a clear and polite tone, spooking both men.

They whirled around to face a second automaton. This one looked different from the engineer, due to the expression on his face. It had a wide smile that was more unnerving than the slight one on the other automaton, for some reason. As if it was friendly, but that could change in an instant.

“Where did it come from?” Harold said.

“I don’t know,” Tommy replied, with a slight shake in his voice. “I didn’t even hear him walk up.”

Harold tried to ignore the uneasy feeling settling into his stomach. He remembered the automaton conductor he met back home. The one who threw him off a train as a young runaway.

“Ticket, please.” The voice sounded less patient than before.

Harold swallowed hard. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s go.”

“Just a minute… I might be able to power him down…” Tommy moved behind the automaton to access the control panel. As he put the screwdriver into one of the screw heads, the conductor spun around at the waist.

“Stop. You do not have authorization to access my mechanical components. You are not an employee of the Cooper Railway Consortium.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. He’d never experienced this level of interaction with something mechanical. Certainly not something like a talking automaton.

“Sorry about that. It was an accident,” Tommy said.

“Accidents can happen. However, you do not have a ticket and you have also tampered with Cooper Railway Consortium property. You both must leave.”

Harold reached over to tug gently on Tommy’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go.”

“But what about Mr. Metal Man, Harold?” Tommy hissed in a whisper.

“Forget about it. Humans have emotions and can think things through. But automatons act on their programming. It won’t show us any mercy.”

“That don’t make no sense–”

“You both must leave. Now.” The tone of authority in the automaton’s voice was unmistakable. There was a click as something shiny flicked into its hand, catching the moonlight.

Harold dragged Tommy away. “We’re leaving. We didn’t mean to trespass.”

The conductor’s lower half rotated to line up with its torso. “If I see you here again I will be forced to take further action.” The automaton began to walk away from the men. It seemed to melt into the darkness.

“C’mon Tommy, let’s go.”

There was a pause. “I’m not leaving without Mr. Metal Man.”

Harold stared at his friend. “Are you crazy? That thing said to leave, and we better pay attention to it.”

“He’s just mad at me for tinkering with his control panel. Besides, if we aren’t near the passenger car, he won’t think we need a ticket.”

“No. We are leaving. NOW.”

The voice that left Tommy’s mouth was pitiful. “But Harold–”

“Tommy. Let’s go.”

The smaller man hung his head. “Okay.”

The gravel crunching under their feet seemed louder than before. Harold tried not to think about it. His senses were just on edge because of that automaton.

All of a sudden Tommy stopped. “I’m going back for him.”

Harold couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Are you crazy?! That thing–”

“He just got mad–”

Harold grabbed his friend’s shoulders in an iron grip. “Tommy. Stop calling these automatons ‘him’. They are machines. And that conductor is not human. It wouldn’t think twice about killing you.”

Tommy shook free in a surprising show of strength. In a disappointed voice, he said, “Go on home, Harold.”

“Tommy, don’t be mad at me–”

“I ain’t mad, Harold. I just ain’t leaving without what we came for. With or without your help. Go home.”

With that, Tommy turned and disappeared back into the darkness, before Harold could even blink.

“Tommy, come back!” Harold hissed into the night. “Tommy!”

But the night had swallowed up his friend.

“Why is he so obsessed with this?” Harold wondered to himself. Then he sighed and tried re-tracing his steps, back to Mr. Metal Man. Back to Tommy. He had to talk some sense into him.

Harold went slowly. He knew he couldn’t be as silent as Tommy, and he knew that he’d have to be more careful. Take his time. He’d managed to outrun a few human conductors as a youth, but Harold knew he was no match for a metal one.

When Harold finally made it back to the steam engine, he stopped. There was Tommy. He was crouched down near Mr. Metal Man. Every so often he would look around, probably searching for the conductor.

“Tommy–”

“I told you to go home.”

“I’m not leaving without you. And I said I’d help you. So I will.”

A grin lit up Tommy’s face, as the hurt in his eyes evaporated. “Thanks, Harold.”

A rustle– or was that a clunk? – sounded in the dark. The two friends ducked into the steam engine, just in time.

The conductor came around the back of the engine just as they cleared the door. A metal lantern hung from its hand, swinging gently as the automaton moved. They held their breath, listening for its footsteps. They waited. And waited.

They watched as the edges of the lantern’s glow lit up the floor just inside the engine’s cabin. It came close to where Tommy was hiding, but didn’t give away his location. Eventually the light from the conductor’s lantern faded as the automaton moved on.

Harold heard his heart beating in his ears. He looked over at Tommy, who seemed to have lost his resolve. Fear coated his eyes now.

“Maybe we should go,” he mouthed. Harold nodded.

Tommy crept over to the door. He looked both ways, then stepped out onto the top step. He waited a few seconds longer.

“Come on, Harold. I think–”

The lantern’s light blazed around the front of the engine as the conductor stepped back around, quick as a flash.

“You were warned.”

Tommy leapt from the engine’s step and broke into a sprint. “Harold, run!”

Harold watched in terror as the conductor moved faster than he thought a machine ever could. Tommy had finally met something faster than him.

The automaton yanked Tommy back, and Harold could only watch as it lifted Tommy from the ground. He could see the look on Tommy’s face, see how he gripped the automaton’s hand as it threatened to choke the life out of him.

“Please, Mr. Conductor, I–”

The metallic voice was frigid. “You were warned. I must take appropriate action.”

Harold clapped a hand over his mouth as he watched the automaton drop the lantern, and the shiny barrel of a gun came into view as the weapon seemed to rise up out of its wrist and move to its hand. Harold looked away and hid himself back in the steam engine’s cabin.

The echoing crack of the shot shattered what was left of Harold’s sanity.

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