The Evil of the Age :: Short Stories Papers

The Evil of the Age August 26th, 1871, was a humid, busy Saturday at the Hudson River Depot in New York City. Sweat and fatigue had crept in by mid-afternoon, when a porter suddenly smelled the stench of decaying flesh. Along the wooden platform lay hundreds of trunks and bags, piled haphazardly, ready for loading onto a Chicago-bound train. During rough handling in the baggage room, the lid of an ordinary, 2'8" by 18" packing trunk had cracked open, releasing the foul stench. The porter immediately called Robert Vandeward, the baggage-master. Vandeward deliberated for a moment, then moved the trunk, bringing it out of the public eye and into a nearby, open railway building. He wrenched loose the thin rope and flimsy lock that secured the lid, popping it open. First he saw an ordinary quilt. He tossed it aside, and stared at a soiled, bloodstained army blanket. The growing crowd of railway attendants leaned in. As he pulled away the blanket, the attendants gasped and covered their mouths. Doubled up in fetus position was the naked corpse of a young woman, her thin shoulders draped with thick, golden curls. Her body had been crushed into the trunk, her head forced over her breasts and her limbs drawn in tightly. Her mouth hung open in awkward distortion and her bright blue eyes stared blankly from their pale, discolored sockets. The pelvic area was bloody and decomposed. In minutes, railroad officials rushed up and down the tracks in search of the trunk's owner. Police questioned onlookers. Voices rose across the station, as a frenzied chaos spread. Young Alexander Potts, known as "Paddy," spoke up. The twelve-year-old boy helped passengers with their bags, making a living scrambling for spare change. He had helped check the trunk just a half-hour before. According to his testimony, an 18- or 19-year-old woman arrived at the station at 2:30 p.m. in a one-horse coupà ©. She wore a common calico dress and a thin shawl. She beckoned Paddy, saying "Sonny, can you tell me where the ticket office is?" When a truck arrived with the trunk, she paid him to help lift it. She urged him to be careful - it contained glass. She would never be found. Earlier that day, she'd hired the truckman to transport the trunk. Paddy had young, keen eyes. He remembered the small inscription on the truck's cab - "Tripp" - which became, for a brief time, a holy grail of sorts.