Imagine That: Fate

and spotting rabbits, which suddenly appeared and raced away. The sun was past its highest point, the day was peaceful, and the crickets maintained a steady buzz.

We were almost halfway across the bridge when the train came. It was the flash new liner, streamlined, blue and very fast. It sounded its horn as it approached, but even as Weed and I started to run we knew there wasn't time to escape. The end of the bridge was too far away from us. Behind us we could hear the rattle and click of the steel wheels, and the hiss of brakes being applied. But there just wasn't time. We were as good as dead!

Weed was ahead of me, and running like a bat out of hell. His legs were jerking forward like the pistons, and his hair was flying. I yelled at him to keep off the tracks but he didn't seem to hear me. The train was booming louder as we ran. I caught up with Weed and ran abreast of him, down the left side of the rails. It was really hard, keeping our feet in line with the sleepers so we didn't hit the gaps in between them. Now the front of the train was thundering on the bridge. It was sweeping towards us, like a wild shark, mouth open, teeth sharp and ready to chew us up.

As I ran, an idea came into my head.

I yelled at Weed to grab the side railing and hang over the edge of the bridge. He understood instantly and flung himself to the right. I threw my weight to the left and held on harder than I've ever held on to anything in my life. My fingers were locked like metal claws onto the wood and my feet hung out in space.

There was a blast of air, and a roaring of wheels as metal raged against metal. For a few seconds our world was a boiling, blasting cacophony of sound, then the tail of the train swept by. We were too exhausted and terrified to move. Weed was whimpering for someone to help him. I was too shaken to speak. The train grumbled to a stop and the driver started to run towards us. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was coming because he was shouting something, and his boots made clunking sounds on the loose stones.

I hauled myself back over the railing, pushing my feet against the wire to lift myself up, then I walked unsteadily over to Weed and grabbed his hand. He started to cry as I pulled him up and over the edge of the sleeper. His face was as white a winter's day.

"Can you run?" I asked him.

"Why?" he said.

"The driver's coming!"

Weed started to stumble back down the bridge. Soon he