26.
Elsa yanks open the rail car door. Steps outside ...
EXT. RAIL CAR -- NIGHT. Elsa hangs over the rail, looking toward the lights of Fort Worth, Texas. The gas lights of town glow a dim orange, like stars through a mist. She lets the wind whip through her hair as she stares out. Breathes in the warm air ... ELSA (V.O.)
The air was different. The air at home is heavy, like a musky soup. Here it is light. With a strange scent of pollen and smoke, like burning flowers ... It smelled wild. Untamed. It was beautiful.
EXT. RAIL STATION -- FORT WORTH, TEXAS -- NIGHT. The rail station is mostly empty -- a few baggage handlers, a night watchman, a couple of husbands and fathers. James stands on the platform, watching them. And watching more men who stand off in the shadows ... The distant light of the train creeps slowly closer. The tracks moan softly as the air horn of the train screams its arrival. As it gets closer, the smoke from its stack becomes visible, churning out in angry plumes. A wall of noise moves ahead of the train -- three hundred tons of metal racing along iron tracks makes a sound that can only be compared to thunder, if thunder were somehow beneath the ground rather than above it. The chugs of the engine sound like angry, exhaled breaths of this giant, steel monster racing toward them. Then a screech -- the shrill, deafening cry of brakes gripping tracks. Sparks plume out as the engine screams past. Seems to be going to fast to stop -- seems as if the conductor has given up on stopping at all and is headed to the next town ...
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