Galt/Hill Mining Camp

What the fuck? Some girl comes in talking about trains, right after this whole thing with Rebekah? Plus she knew about the orbs? Was this some kind of joke? Had she been listening in on his conversation with the cop?

"Actually, I'm waiting for my wife," he replied in a clipped tone. "Rebekah. She disappeared, and the car she was driving was found down by the old train yard. Right next to a ticket for the '309'. Bet that wouldn't happen to be your train, would it Miss Carlson?" He met her piercing gaze, not willing to give an inch. None of this made any sense, the train hadn't run in years according to the cop, but if this girl knew something about Rebekah...

"I don't know, Niall. Do I look like the type of person who actually runs the trains?" She put her hands on her hips, almost challenging him. "I don't choose who rides. All I know is that I met a nice British man while praying, and while we were chatting, I missed my train. And the 309...nobody knows where that old train heads. But the riders don't come back very often. Because that is a very selective clientele, Niall - and most of the time it's a one way trip." Her tough facade faded for a moment, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. But if she rode the 309, there's not many places she could have gone....and none of them are good. Because, even if you think I'm crazy, the 309 rides only when it's called for. And if you don't hear the call, don't have a ticket, or aren't accepted there...you don't ride. And when it reaches its terminal, it only comes back empty." Her hand rubbed on Nialls shoulder lightly. There were ways to make it down there, of course, but this would be difficult...and if he wasn't devoted, then it would never work. "Niall, nobody rides the 309 without a reason. And its...its rarely a reason that they know about." Trixie sat down next to him, almost seeming exhausted. "I'm sorry."

She was crazy. She was definitely crazy. A train that only she could see, that everyone else knew hadn't run in years, that left whenever someone showed up to ride it... But maybe Niall was just as crazy. All he knew was that if Rebekah was stuck there, alone somewhere wherever Trixie had come from, he was going to find her. And if it really was a one-way trip, he'd stay there with her.

He laid his hands on the table, barely noticing the touch of her hand on his shoulder. "Where does it lead?" he asked. "The train. Where could she have ended up? You said there are only a few places it goes - I need to know what they are."

"It'll take her down to Hell or Hadestown, and sometimes there isn't much of a difference anymore. Where Rebekah's gone, you don't want to go, Niall. It's not a place for men like you. The ways are dark, the work is hard, and the town is walled. Just...just let it be. Maybe she never rode it. Maybe it's all a terrible coincidence." She tried to manage a weak smile. "There's hounds at the door. There's a river, deeper and wider than you can imagine. There's a wall, a wall that no soul may cross without permission. You won't make it there alone and alive, Niall. There is a haven there, a utopia, but it's not meant for people like you. It's not made for you, with your education and your airs. Hon....don't do anything stupid. Maybe this is all a mistake. That place...it's made for the crass and the powerful. The believers and the fearful. The scorned and the scornful. But not for the lonesome and the educated, not for you and your ilk. And I'm sorry, Niall, but Rebekah might belong to that place now...and she may even like it down there. It's not that bad of a place, once you understand it. It's lovely, in its own way. But he chooses who he wants there, and nobody knows what makes his decisions. He sits on his throne and reads his edicts, and they happen. And it is best to never question, and never resist...never. Not if you value yourself." Her voice had dropped to a low and conspiratorial whisper, her hand holding onto his shoulder. "Niall....I know it's hard to deal with loss, but you aren't fit for this. And you won't be. It's best to find a way to keep moving." She looked near tears, trying to press the importance of her message on the visitor, her own emotions apparent in her eyes.

"Who are you to say that?" Niall asked, a flash of anger sparking within him. "Have you ever been in love? Been a half of a whole? Maybe I can't get to your Hadestown, or maybe they'll turn me away at the gate, or maybe once I get there she...she won't even want me anymore-" and there his voice broke, because that was what he feared more than anything at this moment, "-but I have to try. I can't just sit here and do nothing. I love Rebekah too much to just give up on her like that. Love is sacrifice. And this is a sacrifice I will make if I have to."

He took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing; he'd knotted his hands so tightly that the knuckles were turning white. "So I'll ask you once again, Miss Carlson, because I know you know. Where does the train go - this "Hadestown" you mentioned - and how do I get there?"

"Yes, Niall, I have!" Her own anger came out in a flash, turning on him like a wounded animal. "I've got a bit of an idea as to what that feels like, thank you. And so help me, I'm just trying to help you, you stubborn son of a bitch." A few tears welled into the corners of her eyes, her own fists balling up and the nails digging into her flesh. "Because trust me, I have watched people make sacrifices far, far beyond what you can think of. And I'm trying to spare you from dealing with the same pain. Because you...." She shook her head, almost hissing in anger. "...you could never make the same sacrifices I've seen. You don't have it in you. You couldn't do half of what they had to do." She turned her back on Niall, refusing to let her emotions spill out. "There's two ways. Ride the 309 all the way, or get off at the split after the river and take the long way down. Moving quietly and staying out of sight, following the wire and the track, and even if you make some headway you can't let yourself get cocky. You think you know sacrifice, and you have no idea what that means yet."

Trixie's words hung in the air for a moment. Niall was stunned by her sudden anger - not quite as shallow a girl as he'd given her credit for. He'd offended her, obviously, though he'd sort of seen that coming after what he'd said before Not his finest moment by a long shot. It was clear, however, that Trixie Carlson had a lot of pain that she had yet to deal with.

"Thank you for your help, Miss Carlson," he said gently, after a pause. "I do appreciate all that you've told me. I know you're the expert and I haven't any clue what I'm doing... I just want to help my wife. But I'll make sure I have no other option before I do anything. As you said...maybe it's all just a terrible coincidence." He gave a weak smile.

Trixie composed herself quietly. "You don't want to head down that train until you need to. If you need to. And maybe you shouldn't jump the gun. Only one person has a ticket up here, and I don't have many to pass out. A lot of travelers here now. That means a lot of questions, and anyone with a decent knowledge of folklore might set something up. So you had best know what you can before you get yourself into too much trouble to recover from." She turned and headed for the door, pausing at the handle. "After all, is there anything less trustworthy than your fellow man?" And with that, she left, blowing her way through the door in a gust of emotion and personality. The door slamming shut behind her echoed in the room, the mining operations having fallen quiet as the sun lowered.

Niall sat in the silence for a moment, pondering what Trixie had told him. He would stick around town for a bit, just in case the police found any leads that didn't involve some weird, possibly imaginary town named for...damn, which one was Hades? Greek or Roman? Niall had never really been one for literature.

He sighed deeply and stood up from the table. It was getting late. Probably best to head back to the inn; he wasn't going to be leaving this town for a while. His head was still spinning, the fury of losing Rebekah still hot, but there wasn't anything he could do tonight. God, he needed sleep. And a drink. And not in that order.

[-exit scene-]

Evening had set in as Mr. Edomds drove the car along the winding drive to Mr. Tanner's estate. The car came to a halt near the entrance. Edomds placed the car in park, then hurried to scurry around the vehicle to open the door for Harry. Harry got to it first, not waiting for someone to open the door for him. As he exited the car Harry paused to bask in the cool evening air. Taking a deep breath he proceeded to the large double doors and knocked loudly and waited to be admitted.

Tanner had a house of his own just off the main camp. Estate only in name, it was still a rather large home made by a man who had been fairly sure that the ore mine would never run dry. However, it had, and the home stood as an odd monument to old excesses. As Harry was banging away on the oak of the doors, the noise of the mine dying down behind the home, Tanner came around the corner talking animatedly to a man keeping pace with him. Finishing his sentence, he seemed to take half a breath before launching into a greeting, waving an arm at Harry. "Harry! Good to see you! Come on over here." He turned his head, talking to Carl. "He's a prig, but don't mind that. Board of directors. Good things." Without missing a beat he resumed talking with Harry. "How was the flight? Hotel? I had them take care of everything. Look, it'll be simple, just a couple of signatures and dots and dashes and then we all go have some shots. This is Carl Woodburn....Woodson?... Woodwane....Woodward. Carl...Woodward. I'm pretty sure. Sorry, terrible memory. He's a reporter with the Denver Post. Guess he took a break from writing about Tebow to meet us people who keep Colorado running."

"Ahh, hello then Mr Woodson. Are you the sports writer for the post?" Without pausing for a brake Harry continued, "Mr. Tanner shall we go take a look at the documents," as Harry motioned to the door.

Carl nearly had to jump back as the door flew open. Dante came at him followed by a woman who seemed out of place in a mining camp. As Dante vomited out a greeting he thought he had a pretty good idea of who this guy was. Typical owner type of some pissant company. He had seemingly unknowingly already tipped him off to a sale, presumably of the company, but he'd have to make sure. Another day, another stinky ass to kiss, and he wasn't in the mood, but he'd try. He gave the girl a look as he thought of the better things he could be doing with his time.

"That's right Carl Wood..." was all he was able to spit out before Dante had turned his attention to another man around the Corner. Board of directors huh? He didn't really look the type to be constantly involved, so what was he doing here? It remained to be seen whether this arrival would be a help or a hindrance to his work, though the talk of signing paperwork seemed to confirm that something, presumably stock, was changing hands. It obviously wasn't a social visit.

Fuck it let's dive in. Woodward gave what he hoped was a comfortable smile, like he enjoyed dealing with the business types, and thought that the prospect shots at the Stagger seemed like a good enough upside to give his smile some authenticity.

"No, Harry, May I call you Harry? No I don't usually write sports, tend to get too emotionally invested for good reporting. Right now I'm doing a piece, as Mr. Tanner said, on the fine businesses and self starters that make this state profitable. Sounds like I arrived at the perfect time for that gentlemen. I'd appreciate it if I could stand by while you conduct your business, it sounds like an exciting move is about to take place and a business move is never hurt by good press." He motioned to Harry, "It'd be a help to know who you are," to both of them "and what direction you men are taking the company?" (fast talk and/or persuade)

"Yeah, Harry works;" Harry responded, "I don't think this meeting will be as exciting as you think it may be, I'm just going to be selling the remainder of my stock then I'll have washed my hands of this place. Not all too sure the direction the company is going though. I've only been told vague specifics since I won't be on the inside after I sign my part over. The only things I'm interested in are how much I'm making off this deal, and if I can make it to Aspen before a...friend leaves town. I'd hate to miss her." Harry laughed. "Anyways, I'd like to have a look at the paper work now if you please." Once again Harry motioned to the door, not wanting to invite himself in.

[Persuade 62/70]

Dante moved to open the door, turning to glance back at Carl. "Hard to be objective about sports, huh? Well, I am Dante Tanner. I run the mine here, I guess it's a CEO type of a job without the title. Regional management and such. What this mine did, er, does, is dig up ore and metals that are sold to the United States Treasury department. In turn, they're used to make coins at any of the different mints. Was a time when all your money could be traced back to Hadestown and the Crestview mine. But, as of late, the mine has dried up, for lack of a better term. The ore output has become less profit than the maintenance and payroll of the mine. So we've expanded." He led them into a medium sized kitchen, gesturing at the table and a large sheath of paperwork.

"Those are forms for a sale to Sinai Hill Research. They've taken an interest to the old legends of Hadestown and want to make money off of it. Tourist sites, museum, all that fun crap. Quite frankly, glad to be rid of it. They can have it. All theirs. They can suffer through trying to take a profit. We've drained it dry. Now, a favor, Carl, when you write this? Make that sound like we're giving the land over for some philanthropic reason and not like it's a passed out co-ed at a Steelers party? Speaking of passed out co-eds, we don't want to keep Harry waiting. Your papers are in this pile, Harry." He shoved a few papers towards the man along with a man, then sat heavily into a chair opposite him.

Just great. Carl was supposed to write about self-starting business and the guys were cutting their losses and running away. What was being left? Fucking Tourism? In this shithole? Carl let them get to some of the paperwork.

"Could the new interest in the mines have anything to do with the Obsidian orbs that have been found? I assume that obsidian isn't on the list of things you're looking for. And I don't suppose either of you will be looking to re-invest any of those profits you're making into another project that might be of interest to Coloradans?"