Crowam 281 (25 page)

Gradually, I heard the ground beneath me tremble. I knelt down and placed my hand on the tracks, the cold steel of the tracks vibrated. I looked behind me and in the distance; a train lumbered its way toward me.

The sound of the train horn chorused through the forest like a battle cry. The smoke from the engine plumed into the sky like smoke coming from a factory chimney. I got off the tracks and awaited its arrival. I figured I’d hitch a ride. I didn’t want the conductor to see me, afraid that he’ll throw me off before I even got a chance to get on. I hid behind some shrubs until the train arrived. The train slowly rolled past me. The engine chugged forward with methodical brute strength.

The train cars were just as rusty as the tracks they rolled on. What the cargo contained inside was a mystery to me. They could have been carrying manure for all I knew. I aimed for one of the cars with an opened side door. I ran toward the open gate, tossing myself inside. I became startled when a pair of stony eyes stared at me. I lurched back as a defensive reaction. “Jesus, you scared me,” I said.

The man looked like a hobo. His clothes were threadbare and dirty. He looked like he hasn’t taken a shower in weeks. “Sorry if I startled you. I saw you running from them bushes. Pretty fast. I was young like you once. You should have seen me run then. I was faster than a race horse.”

“What’s your name?”

The hobo seemed to get excited, as if nobody had asked him his name before. This might have been because he didn’t get to talk to too many strangers. The consequence of living the life of a lonely traveler. “Herald. What’s yours?”

“Jake Hudson.”

Herald dived into his can of beans, the spoon scraping the bottom can as he scavenged for whatever beans were left. He tossed the can away, putting the spoon in his pocket for his next feast. He leaned back against the metal wall of the car, licking his lip, savoring the leftover flavor of the beans.

“Do you know where this train is headed?” I asked Herald.

“Not sure. Anyplace is better than where we are now.” He stared at me.

“Looks like you’ve been through a great ordeal.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s that look. I’ve seen it before. I was in the war, you know? Damn tragedy. I’ve seen enough death to last me a lifetime. I was a paratrooper with the 6
^th
Airborne Division. We were part of the first wave of the Normandy invasion. Bloody mess, I tell you. We were supposed to land near the eastern flank near the City of Caen to capture a bridge, but they bloody scattered us all over the place. It was a sight to see. Young boys getting shot and blown up before they even hit the ground. Death plays no favorites when the bullets start zipping past your head. We eventually captured the bridge, but what a funny thing, to die for a bloody bridge. The ones who made it, they got that look just like you. I have it, too. It just stays with you, gives you a different look of the world.”

Herald could only smile, exposing his rotten teeth, whatever was left of them, anyway. I pitied Herald. He looked alone, a weary traveler, searching for something, maybe something as simple as somebody to talk to.

Yet I feared him, wondering if I too would end up just like him. I began to hate him a bit, only because I feared being like him. I wanted to jump off that train. Or maybe get on another car. But I was too tired to do anything. I felt a bulge in my back pocket. I forgot it was there. I pulled out the copy of
A Tale of Two Cities
that Thomas gave me. He was bugging me, even from the grave.

I flipped through the pages, looking for the creased page marking where I left off. Instead, I noticed a handwritten message on the back of the book I never noticed before. I’m not sure when Thomas wrote it. His handwriting was elegant and effortless, each word standing on its own with such ease, allowing you to absorb the message. Thomas had a way with words, a way of moving you. I guess you could say he was a true romantic.

I wished Thomas was with me. I missed him dearly. But somehow I knew he was somewhere greater than this world, where glory was commonplace and love was as real as flesh and bone. I smiled, caressing the page.

“Dickens, huh? You like to read?” Herald asked.

“Yea, I guess you can say I do.”

“Looks like we got company,” Herald said, nodding his chin to what was outside.

I peeked through the car door. They were running as fast as they could, nearly tripping over themselves on the gravel beneath them. “Come on, run faster. Hurry!” I yelled.

The train seemed to accelerate the faster they ran. “You can do it, come on!” They inched closer and closer. I reached out my hand. “Take my hand, come on.”

I gripped his hand, pulling him inside. I reached out my hand again, pulling the second would-be passenger inside. “Run faster, Charles!” I never saw Charles run as fast as he did that day. You would think he got a new pair of legs. Charles made his way closer. I leaned outside the car, with Owen and Felix holding onto me so I wouldn’t fall out. Once again, I reached out my hand. “I know you can do it, Charles. You’re almost there.” Charles extended his hand. Our fingers grazed at the tips.

“Damn it, man, move!” Felix yelled. Our fingers touched again. Charles was running out of breath. His face was flushed and red with sweat beaming down his face. I reached out once more. Our palms finally met, my fingers clutching every bone in his hand. Charles grabbed on to the handle on the side of the car. With all our weight, we pulled him inside, rolling over each other and the can of beans Herald finished off.

We nearly lost our breath from all the laughter. They were the last ones I expected to see. “What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

“We didn’t want to let you have all the fun,” Owen said.

“Is that right?” I said.

“We’ve gone through too much to just end so abruptly. There is a whole world to see out there. Why not see it together?” Charles said.

“Was this your idea?” I asked Felix.

“Not just mine. What we have here is a brotherhood. A bond, something that can never be broken. We owe each other our lives, and with that, a friendship that will last until our final breath. In fact, I will call our brotherhood the brotherhood of adventure.”

“You’re a damn poet.”

“So, what shall we search for?” Owen asked.

I looked down at the note, then looked up at the sky from the rustic car and smiled. “Fortune and glory, gentlemen. Fortune and glory.”