The train station at Forbach was wet. The rain trailed down the concrete waiting area as the cold wind swirled.
He thought he could stop the devastation that was coming. The acid that had been poured on the rail linkages were doing their work . . melting the once-strong steel into puddles of metal. In the dark they were invisible. But, he could see them . . . in his mind.
He could not see the train coming yet. The fog and wind obscured the track which looked like a railway into infinity. The depths of hell, perhaps.
He needed a smoke. At such a critical juncture! He knew the train was coming!
He quickly pulled a cigarette out of the breast pocket of his overcoat. He had a match in his front pocket. He lit the match. Unfortunately, the acid had also been flammable.
The explosion rocked the station and down in the underpasses of the train station the drunks clung to the cold steel pipes. On the concrete waiting area a ball of flame engulfed the small unprotected waiting area, signalling to the train that there was a problem up ahead. A screeching of metal against metal left the train well short of the station.
He was right. In the end, he was able to stop the conflagration.