More deafening noise, more spattering corn, more dust, more choking, more stinging. Breathing again became virtually impossible. Lou’s chest constricted. His throat closed altogether. They were suffocating—drowning in dust. Together, he and Cap were forced to their knees. They sucked air through their dust-coated shirts, but the maneuver was of little help.

Then, again, as quickly as it began, the rush of corn ceased.

The two of them coughed and gagged. Probably mercifully, George had again drifted into unconsciousness. Somehow, Lou and Cap had managed to hold on to him. Now, they hoisted him upright between them.

The corn was above their knees.

“Had enough?” Chester yelled down. “I’ll give you one last chance to tell me the truth and make me believe you. Who else did you tell about my corn?”

“Nobody knows about it,” Lou replied with no force behind the words.

Chester waved down to them. “This is it,” he said.

“It’s the truth,” Lou managed. “You’ve got to believe me.”

He could see Chester reaching again for the lever. But there was no noise, no waterfall of corn and dust. No suffocating air.

Instead, there was what sounded like the crackling of gunfire.

Lots of gunfire.

Lou closed his eyes, flinching with each crack, in anticipation of being shot. The gunfire continued in rapid spurts, but to Lou’s growing surprise, no bullets struck the inside of the grain car.

“What’s happening?” Cap shouted to Lou.

“I don’t know. Someone’s shooting. I thought they were shooting at us—some sort of a revenge game.”

More gunfire erupted, followed by explosions that shook the train.

Then there were helicopters swooping overhead. One of them hovered above the portal. Men, caught in the spotlights from the silos, seemed to be fast-roping down toward them.

More gunfire. More explosions.

Through the din, Lou heard Chester cry out. The silhouette above Lou clutched his shoulder and pitched forward, still holding the lever on the chute. Again, the corn kernels and dust poured down, but this time, William Chester became part of the deadly cataract, twisting in the air as he fell. He landed heavily on his back, not five feet away from where Lou and the others were struggling to stay upright and breathe.

Corn pelted Chester’s body and face. He struggled to sit up, but his efforts only drove him deeper into the feather bed of kernels.

The man’s mouth contorted in a silent scream.

Within seconds, corn had completely buried him. Briefly, Chester worked his head free and craned his nose and mouth toward the portal, but the level continued to rise.

With the corn already at Lou’s chest, there was no way he could even move.

“Help me!” he thought he heard over the rush of seeds. “Help me!”

Corn had covered Chester’s nose and eyes. His mouth seemed to suck in one final breath. A moment later, he vanished.