Remo said nothing. His eyes were on the wreck, which was growing larger every second.
The chopper settled, flattening the prairie grass like hair under a blow dryer. They got out.
Melvis walked up to the engine, saying, "Oh man, I just hope she ain't derail prone. Cause if she is, then you can kiss Amtrak goodbye. This was supposed to be the locomotive of the future. One of 'em, anyways."
"What's this other thing?" Remo asked, pointing to the black engine.
"That? Why, it's a . . ."
They looked at him.
"Give me a second now. It'll come to me."
Melvis scratched his head on both sides and scrutinized the scrunched engine from front, back and sides.
"Don't rightly know," he admitted. "Looks like it might be some kind of switcher or work train."
"What is it doing on the same track as Amtrak?"
"Fair question. Over yonder lies the Union Pacific lines. They haul freight. Uncle Pete livery is what they call Armor yellow, so this ain't one of theirs.
Don't know what else runs on this line. This ain't exactly my neck of the woods."
Melvis led them around to the other side of the joined-at-the-nose Siamese engines. The stink of diesel fuel was high in their nostrils.
When they rounded on the other side, they walked into a camera. It went click in their faces.
Reacting to the sound, Remo and Chiun suddenly broke in opposite directions. They came to a dead stop, a safe distance away.
Feeling the breeze, Melvis turned. "Thought you boys was right behind me."
"Who are you talking to?" a musical, twangy voice asked.
Melvis took one look at the willowy girl in fringed buckskin jacket and bright blue bib jeans and asked, "Who in heck are you?"
The woman let her camera hang down in one hand as she dug a business card out of her jeans. "K. C. Crockett. Rail Fan magazine."
Melvis's face lit up. "Rail Fan! Why, I subscribe to that." He yanked out a card. "Melvis O. Cupper, NTSB. And if I gotta tell you what the initials stand for, you ain't who you say you are."
"Thank you kindly," said K.C., taking the card. She had a corn-fed smile and hair only slightly less red than copper. Her eyes were electric blue.
Remo and Chiun came up.
Melvis jerked a thumb at them. "These here are two boys from DOT."
"Can I have your cards too?" K.C. asked brightly.
"I do not have a card," said Chiun.
Remo offered his. "Can I keep it? I collect them," K.C. asked.
"Sorry," said Remo, taking it back. "Only one."
"They're from back East," Melvis told K.C. Eyeing Chiun, he added, "Way back East."
"Pleased to meet you all. I was riding the California Zephyr when it hit. Sure was an experience, let me tell you. But I got some nifty shots of the wreck. Maybe I can make the cover this time."
"You were on the train?" Remo asked.
"Last car. We were going along right smooth when smash! Lights out, boom-boom-bang-ba-boom and we were in the ditch faster than pooh through a possum."
"You're a right lucky lady," said Melvis.
"All except for being defiled in the middle of the Nebraska flatlands," K.C. said ruefully.
"That's means left behind," Melvis told Remo and Chiun.
"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."