The Pier (935 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.69 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by HeimdallsMan (View user info) at 2004-02-17 13:25:03 EST
The holding area used to be a baseball diamond, Carter was sure. Two sides of the fence were higher, the other two obviously hastily constructed.
Carter stood staring through the fence, hands plunged into his pockets, as deeply as the pockets would allow. His clothes were threadbare, barely holding together. Free to escape downwind, his breath streamed unhindered through the rusted chain links. Moisture condensed and froze on his bushy moustache. Carter would brush the ice away with his shoulder every few minutes, each time thinking of the arctic explorers, smiling behind a screen of clumpy hairsicles, he had seen in National Geographic as a kid. His long, dirty hair blew into his eyes from the stiff northern breeze, but he let it hang there. It wasn't worth removing his hands from his pockets. Nothing much to see anyway.
Except the Pier.
***
The pier had been built in the late 1880s. The rapidly expanding Santa Fe line needed a spur running through northern Kansas, and the engineers had decided that this was the perfect spot to cross Mill Creek. The pier still bore the marks of the wooden beams used to frame it up, a concrete negative of a more ancient technology.
The first trains to cross the little bridge carried passengers, people heading west when that still meant something. The pier took the weight of countless freight trains, carrying 'back east' goods to 'down west' settlers. Slowly, civilization followed the tracks west.
***
The Pier had grabbed Carter's attention the day he was brought to the camp. It stood like a giant gravestone at the bank of the creek, marking the end of an era. Twenty five feet wide, ten feet high and three feet thick, it would have served as a powerful monument.
But the Pier stood, obviously forgotten, amidst the trees that had grown in since the line was abandoned. "Shit-wood", the locals called it. Some opportunistic species of tree that jumped in whenever offered the chance. Vines covered the Pier in the summer, their dead husks giving it the appearance of scar tissue in the winter.
Carter was brought in around noon. In the interrogation tent, well... he wouldn't think about that. Afterward, he was brought to the holding area, thrown in with about a hundred other men, women and children, all wearing that beaten dog look. They let him keep his coat, and he thanked them sincerely for it.
He immediately walked over to the fence (about where the home team coach would have stood, he figured), awed by the Pier standing at the edge of the woods, standing out like the last rotten tooth in a dying man's mouth. The Pier was dark grey, almost black, except for the bright pockmarks on its face.
***
The bridge carried trains from all over the country. Doughboys from World War I, G.I.s from World War II, the forgotten Korean Warriors, and Viet Nam baby-killers all crossed the bridge. Freight crossed, heading in both directions. Teddy Roosevelt crossed it with his Rough Riders, and later his cousin crossed it, extolling the New Deal. McArthur crossed it and faded away. Trains had carried KKK ralliers and Baptist Church Sunday picnickers.
In the fifties, the growing highway system began to make the trains less economical. Traffic began to decline. The last train crossed the bridge in 1972, a railroad maintenance vehicle. The shiny rails were rust coated inside of six months.
***
The snow started around midnight. All the people in the holding area had huddled together to keep warm. Those that were too weak to burrow to the center had little chance, and several were taken away in the morning. The snow fell all night, and all the next day. It piled up around the fence and weighed down the tents to the point of collapse. The soldiers kept busy that day brushing the snow from their tents. Some of the soldiers started a snowball fight in the afternoon. They laughed like children. Carter watched them and smiled, whispering encouragement to one side, then the other.
Those in the holding area that could, walked to keep warm. Because of the cold, the snow wouldn't melt under their tramping feet. Soon the snow was compressed into a concrete-hard pad. The next night many of those on the bottom of the pile didn't make it either.
Carter watched the snow accumulating on and around the Pier. Sometimes he could barely see it through the blowing snow. For some reason that frightened him. In his childhood, a heavy snowfall had turned everything magical. Even a rusted-out old car looked like a thickly frosted cake under six inches of snow, but the Pier wore its snowfall badly. The dead vines caught the snow haphazardly. It looked as if it had been trapped by a deranged spider.
***
In 1986, the track was pulled up to make room for the highway passing west out of town. One hundred years to the day from when it was placed, the last beam of the bridge was removed. Removal of the piers was a much more difficult task, and was left for another year's budget. They never got around to it.
***
Carter found that if he closed his eyes, he felt as if the Pier was watching him, calling to him. Night fell, the sun setting behind the Pier. He tried to stand in its shadow, trying to absorb somehow its ancient secret.
As if it were a doorway to some unknown world, the Pier stood utterly black against the night sky. Carter had stared into its depths all day; it stared into his all night. He found he couldn't sleep; the call of the Pier was so powerful.
They soldiers came at random intervals, to keep them off-guard. Carter would hear the wailing of a child, or the quiet pleading of a woman, then the trudging boots, squeaking in the snow. They followed the path worn in the snow from the holding area to the Pier. Sometimes they struggled; mostly they didn't have the strength. Carter was so anxious to learn the secret of the Pier, he would rush to the gate each time the soldiers came, hoping he would be next. He would be roughly shoved aside, and some other unwilling pilgrim would be dragged from the crowd. As dawn broke, Carter stood at the fence, his frozen fingers straining at the links, reaching for the Pier.
***
In 1989 a park was built in the shadow of the highway, beside the creek. It was a pleasant spot with swings, a few picnic tables, and a baseball diamond built for the community by the Knights of Columbus. Kids clambered over the pier. It was a mountain, a fortress, a spaceship. Years passed, the pier existing in the memories of a few happy children. Green vines climbed its face, giving it a stately air.
Then the bad times came. A revolution begun, as always, by a discontented minority. It grew until each man had to declare a side. Of course no man was safe, no matter which side he claimed.
***
The soldiers came more often now. Each time Carter would run to the gate, each time he would be refused. The soldiers laughed at him, but he didn't care. He knew that enlightenment was 50 yards away, if only they would deliver him there.
Days passed, the number of detainees dwindling to a couple dozen. More passed from the cold than... anything else, but it didn't seem to matter. They were hauled away and tossed into the creek.
***
Skirmishes flared up almost everywhere, seemingly simultaneously. It's the classic story; brother fought brother, father fought son. The harsh realities of the war zone settled in, all over the country. Battles passed back and forth over the countryside. Some areas were organized; others were simply anarchistic explosions of rage. Faster than anyone thought possible, the trappings of civilization fell away.
***
It was 2 AM. The gibbous moon was setting, haloing the Pier in ghostly silver light. A soldier came to the gate and waited. Carter walked over, no real hope in his heart, but feeling the need to complete the ritual. The soldier smiled, a compassionate, sympathetic smile. "That's right, it's time," he said quietly.
Carter stared at him, not quite believing what he had heard. "Really?" he asked, his voice breaking. The soldier just nodded. Tears stung Carter's eyes, his lips quivering in a grateful smile. "Thank you, thank you!" he said through his tears. He wanted to hug the soldier, but he knew it would be wrong.
They both turned to walk the path. Carter looked at his feet, watching them tread the path he had desired for so long. He didn't dare look up at the Pier. He thought he would collapse with passion if he were to look it in the face. As he walked the path another soldier joined them, the two of them flanking him, rifles over their shoulders. They let him take his time. Carter closed his eyes, feeling the path with his feet, seeing it with his mind's eye. The path glowed there in his mind, terminating at, oh yes, that heavenly gate he dare not look at.
It was close now. He felt the soldiers stop, knowing that it was for him alone to complete the last few steps of deliverance. Keeping his head down he dared to open his eyes. He slowly crept forward a small step at a time, until the base of the Pier came into view. He continued looking down at the ground. The stains in the snow looked black in the fading moonlight, but he knew what color they really were, oh yes. Glorious red, yes - the color of eternal life.
He slowly reached forward, brushing his numb fingers over the scabrous surface of the Pier. He closed his eyes again as ecstasy quivered through his body. He was truly prepared. He raised his head and flung his eyes open, prepared to be blasted straight to eternity from the very sight of the Pier. He saw only dead vines, and stained concrete.
His beatific smile faltered. "Wait..." he said, then entered eternity.
User Reviews
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-09-04 00:40:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
.
Submitted by pooperscooper17 (user info) at 2004-05-07 13:02:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
gay
Submitted by hardly <worth.it.at.stomp.com> at 2004-04-15 16:05:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
meh.
Submitted by smokymtcsw (user info) at 2004-03-18 17:26:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
this was fun to reread. I also saw Whata's reply. I want to send him stuff now to look over :)
Submitted by PukingDog (user info) at 2004-03-18 17:23:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Not sure how I missed this, but then a lot of good stuff gets missed around here. Anyway, this must be good because I couldn't understand it! Ha - just kidding. I like it very much, only decent thing I have found today. Fun to read. Great job.
Submitted by wags (user info) at 2004-03-18 17:09:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
hi
Submitted by Heimdallsman (user info) at 2004-03-18 13:33:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks for tryin', K.M.
I really appreciate it.
--HeimdallsMan
Submitted by K.M (user info) at 2004-03-18 12:57:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck you people.
Submitted by K.M (user info) at 2004-03-18 12:36:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
And one more for good measure, since its already at 10.
Submitted by K.M (user info) at 2004-03-18 12:23:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I am bringing this back on the most recently reviewed list in hopes that somebody will read this today.
Submitted by Heimdallsman (user info) at 2004-03-17 23:58:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks, K.M.
It has actually caused some controversy in my family, what with the "baby-killer" thing.
Oh well, no such thing as bad press, I guess.
--HeimdallsMan
Submitted by K.M (user info) at 2004-03-17 23:26:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was fantastic.
Submitted by Kimba (user info) at 2004-03-04 15:04:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. Just...wow.
Submitted by Heimdallsman (user info) at 2004-02-27 23:45:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Hey, thanks Smoky.
Poe... wow.
--HeimdallsMan
Submitted by smokymtcsw (user info) at 2004-02-27 16:59:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow please write more. Creepy and beautiful like a Poe short story
Submitted by FATMANTPK (user info) at 2004-02-24 09:35:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good
Submitted by amusediniraq (user info) at 2004-02-24 00:51:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Scott_James (user info) at 2004-02-17 18:45:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Another thoughtful piece.
Submitted by NavyJester (user info) at 2004-02-17 18:32:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This is amazing! Exceptionally well written and thought out.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2004-02-17 14:44:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
this is good
Submitted by whataefag (user info) at 2004-02-17 14:14:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Took me a while to get through that.
2 things:
1) phrases like "Viet Nam baby-killers" probably would be a good thing to avoid in a story like this, mainly because the narrator is an objective one in other parts of the story and it could (well, it would) disorient your audience.
2) you need an editor badly. Not to edit your spelling or punctuation or any of those pedantic things, but because this is really good and could use some extensive rearranging and clarifying to make this a marketable story. I work in publishing and if this transcript crossed my desk; I'd probably edit it extensively, break it down into a shorter blurb, eliminate some of your clearly biased and ignorant statements, ask you to expand the thing as a whole, and pass it on to my boss.