Murder on Wheels

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The girl shivered as she stepped out into the dawn. Dawn is a time for executions. But she didn’t think of that at the time. It was only later that she realized that it must have been this dread thought that had made her shiver.

At the moment all she had in mind was danger and the premonition of some fantastic thing about to happen; but death was not within her comprehension.

She had stepped from a train running up along the Michigan shore of Lake Michigan. The train puffed and started on north. She looked around.

The station was all hers; she had it to herself. Not that possession of the station meant much. It was a shack about as big as a boxcar with a small platform sagging between it and the single tracking. No soul was around, save herself.

She left the station and began walking up a road with bare sand dunes on either side. Wild desolation. It was like being alone in the Sahara, instead of in western Michigan. And it was almost as cold as it gets in the Sahara at dawn.

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