Authors: Norman Dixon
Bobby stared
into them like a mouse staring up at a starving cat. “Ecky was right . . .
you’re fucking crazy,” he said without a hint of sarcasm.
Baylor’s eyes
narrowed for the briefest of seconds, as if he were about explode in anger, but
instead, the dark-skinned man erupted into laughter. “Kid, for that you get one
night in our star suite with Jamie,” he said, putting the gun into its holster
at his waist. “Welcome aboard, kid.”
Bobby didn’t
know what to do as hands patted his back and tussled his hair. It felt strange
to be accepted. Almost as strange as hearing the voices of the dead.
Most of the men
filed out of the narrow car to go about the business of the train. They went up
through hatches and out doors that, to Bobby, didn’t seem to lead anywhere.
“I still don’t
like him. But you’re the boss,
boss.
”
“Go see to our
other passenger, Hoss.”
Hoss gave Bobby
a hard stare before clambering up through the hatch.
“Kid, we’ll have
words, me and you,” Baylor pointed, “later, but first get cleaned up. You look
like shit. I really would like to know how the Jesus freaks are faring this
year." Baylor swept into a bow and spun on his heel, vanishing like some
sideshow pitchman, but not before saying over his shoulder, “Go easy on him,
Jamie. A few good years have put the thickness back in your hips." His
wild laughter followed him to the front of the train.
“He’s a good
man, an asshole, but a good man.”
Up close she
looked very much like a
she.
Her long blonde-gray hair poured over her
shoulder in loose curls. Her hazel eyes were soft and much easier to look at
than Baylor’s lunatic orbs. She wore a dirty apron that covered the massive
swell of her motherly breasts, cleavage plunged down into her green sweater, a
shadowy canyon. Her hands rested on her wide hips patiently. She was clearly
worried and intrigued by him.
“I just. . .
." The sheer exhaustion of his journey shattered the fragile glass of his
focus. And as the pieces of his sanity crumbled to the ground the voice of the
dead man roared back into it once more. He opened his mouth to scream but it
died in the darkness that enveloped him.
“Oh dear."
Jamie removed the heavy gear from Bobby’s limp body. She picked him up without
much effort. “Poor, child, you’re nothing but skin and bones. The roads a harsh
mistress she is. But I’ll have you better in no time. Fatten you right up, and
who knows, maybe even make a man out of you.”
* * * * *
He stood outside
the fence. Numb limbs carried him around the Settlement’s perimeter. But his
eyes were . . .
broken
, somehow, smudging everything in a liquid gray.
The barracks mere dark brown bricks while the Folks were vaguely humanoid
shadows, a glimpse of their true forms, perhaps. He drifted more than he walked
around the fence. Watching the Folks move about their business made him angry.
He wanted to peel back the steely sky to reveal the sun and burn them all away.
The rage seemed
to shock some sense into his limbs for, he could feel the contraction of his
cold muscles, and with that, the sounds returned as well. At first, they were
just snatches of voice caught on the wind, then they became another horror
entirely.
Behind him,
lining the whole of the Still Water Road, were the rocking forms of thousands
of Creepers. They came on rotten limbs, on stumps; they climbed on top of cars,
some even slipped off the narrow road, tumbling in heaps far below. They surged
forward until they threatened to topple the fence and flood into the
Settlement.
The Folks
scattered. Children screamed for their parents. Shots rang out. But Bobby knew,
watching it all unfold, that they were helpless to stop the flood . . . they
would die, all of them.
“Please, stop!”
he shouted, trying to stop the press of dead bodies, but they ignored. Even
though he could hear their every word, they could not hear his, and they surged
forward again. The fence held for a moment then broke.
Bobby
jumped up, finding that he couldn’t move. He began to panic. Something warm and
heavy pressed against his face. Opening his eyes revealed the ample bosom of
Jamie.
“There, there,”
she said, patting his back and pressing him into her soft flesh with a mammoth
hug.
Bobby went rigid
at her touch. What should’ve been a comforting act, to him, was something so
foreign, Jamie might as well have held a knife to his throat.
“What’s wrong
with you, boy. Didn’t your mother ever hold you?” she asked, holding him at
arm’s length.
“My mother died
before I was born,” he said coldly. He twisted from her grasp.
“Whatever do you
mean, child?" She dabbled at her flush cheeks with a plump hand. The heat
of the room almost unbearable.
“I mean she’s
dead. Where is my pack?" Bobby looked around the cramped space that was nothing
more than a very small mockery of a closet. Jamie sat on the thin bed amid the
rumpled blanket. A long thin slit, that served as the only window, allowed a
knife of afternoon light to darken the wrinkles on Jamie’s face. There was
little else of note in the awfully hot space. His things were nowhere to be
seen, and he suddenly realized he was completely naked. Embarrassed, he covered
himself meekly with his hands. “Where are my things . . . where are my
clothes?
”
Jamie chuckled.
“Relax, child, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Your clothes were filthy,
not good for your skin, causes rashes and such. So I cleaned them, thank you
very much. They are drying, won’t take long in this traveling toaster oven,”
she said, fanning herself with her plump hands.
“Stop calling me
child,” he demanded.
“What should I
call you then?” she pressed.
“Bobby,” he
said, tentatively.
“Well then,
Bobby,” she licked her lips, “I’m hungry, and I know you’ve got to be. Your
bones are showing. How about I bring you your clothes and we get something to
eat?" She stood with a grunting effort, pressing on her lower back
to ease the strain.
“I want all of
my things,” he said, sounding very much like a spoiled brat, a tyrant of the
toy box.
“Making a lot of
demands for one in such a vulnerable position." Jamie pulled her sweater
aside, revealing a long gash on the top of her left breast. “Only if you
promise to keep your knife where it belongs. Nearly cut my titty off,” she said
with a hoarse laugh. She made no effort to avoid contact with him as she
passed. Her massive breasts sent him tumbling to the bed. “Had that knife in a
good place. I picked you up and got a nice little gift for the effort.”
“I’m sorry,”
Bobby said awkwardly.
“No worries. Now
I’ll be back with your things in a jiffy. It’s best to have food in your belly
before you get to talking to Baylor. He has a way of not shutting
up.” Jaime inclined her head and squeezed her way out of the cramped
cabin.
Bobby pulled the
blanket over his naked body. He didn’t know what to make of the strange place.
It certainly wasn’t what he expected. Could he trust these people? What would
they want from him? So many questions and none of which he could even begin to
form an answer to. The noise in his head prevented any rational thoughts.
The second he
had his things back he planned to change that, then and only then, would he
take Jamie up on the meal. Bobby sat on the edge of the bed and waited. For the
first time he noticed his feet no longer dangled above the floor. It really had
been a long strange winter.
Jamie handed
over the bag with a grunt. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you had a
body in there.”
A pang of guilt
and worry sent a shiver through him.
Had she seen the journal? Did she read
it?
“Don’t
worry.” Jamie wrung her storied hands. Too many tales gave birth to those
wrinkles she displayed so proudly. “Your secret is safe with me. I don’t quite
understand it, but at the same time . . . I know it wasn’t right of me, but
if—if that is true—do you know how special you are?” Her smile broadened.
Her eyes were wet.
Bobby pulled his
pack close and didn’t say anything. Would these traveling train people want him
dead next?
“Forget what I
said, Bobby. It was a rude thing to do, but when I got to cleaning, it just
fell out and well—curiosity got the better of me is all." She looked away
from his accusing eyes. There was a measure of power in them that she didn’t
quite understand, and the words in that journal only added to her unease about
the boy. But it wasn’t a fear in the sense that he was a danger to her, it was
a fear of what he had to endure during his short life.
“I’m not one of
them. . . .”
Jamie put out
her hand but pulled it back as Bobby flinched. “I-I didn’t say that." She
paused and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “How about we have that meal
and forget about what’s in that book?”
Bobby wished it
was that easy for him, but he couldn’t fault this woman, not yet at least. He
could hear Ecky in his head,
‘Trust no one, Bobby. We are creatures born of
lies.’
But he had no choice and he was out of options. If he needed to bail
. . . he supposed jumping wouldn’t be too hard, after all, the train moved at a
snail’s pace.
“Okay, but first
I want to go up top." Bobby took his neatly cleaned and folded clothes from
the top of the pack.
“Why would you
want to do such a thing?”
“I want to see
the Creeper stuck outside.”
“I told them to
get rid of that thing the second we hit it. But the fellas need a good laugh
every now and again, need to blow off steam . . . so I suppose there’s no harm
in it. But why you would want to look at it . . .” Jamie closed the door
over and said, “I’ll be waiting out here for you.”
“Thank you,”
Bobby said, as he pulled the fresh smelling clothes to his face. They were soft
and warm, and they carried a sweet scent he’d never experienced before. Bobby
quickly slipped into them. Dressed and fresh, he laid the CAR-15 across his lap
for inspection.
Everything
seemed okay. They hadn’t removed the bullets in either the CAR or the
Remington. These train people kept their word so far, but Bobby wondered how
long that would last. With the CAR-15 bouncing on his back he stepped out of
the cabin and into the train proper.
“You sure you
want to see that . . . that
thing
?” Jamie asked again.
“I’m sure, and I
need some air." Bobby nodded for her to lead the way.
The train
lurched along, clanging metal, belching steam, a laboring mechanical animal. He
still wasn’t used to the motion, such a strange sensation for him, but he
managed to at least keep his stomach under control, though, there really wasn’t
much in it to part with. He couldn’t even think about eating until he silenced
the cries. They’d slowed somewhat, but they had not stopped. His head ached
beyond measure.
Jamie lead him through
the narrow hall. The train car was filled with cabins on both sides. Most were
dark, or covered by privacy curtains, offering not a glimpse of who, or what
resided inside. Except the last. Electric lights burned bright to reveal a man
sitting in front of a small notebook computer. Had he not seen several of the
Folks using such devices he would’ve thought it some kind of magic. The man
wore a battered gray cloak and a dark black hood with matching gloves. Shrouded
in secrecy the man’s face was a black mask. The man studied Bobby for a moment
and then returned to the lighted screen.
“Strange one he
is,” Jamie said as she opened the sliding door at the end of the car. If the
gritty racket bothered her ears she showed no signs. “Mind the gap." She
picked up her apron and stepped daintily across the swaying platforms.
“Who is he?”
“Passenger like
yourself. Weird, too, doesn’t talk much. He’s heading to the coast. Paid his
fare in spices." Jamie helped Bobby across, clutching the railing she
said, “You sure you don’t want to go eat first?" She gestured towards the
door behind her.
“I am sure.”
She sighed over
the clatter of the track. “Very well then, up you go.”
In the shadows
between the cars Bobby almost missed the black iron ladder. He hesitated.
“What? I can’t
be going first. Wouldn’t be proper of a lady wearing a dress. Up you go, but be
careful. Hold on tight and wait for me when you get to the top.”
The train
swayed, leaning hard to the left as it took a curve. Bobby held on even though
his hands were weak and he felt shaky all over. Crisp spring wind erased the
burning heat from his cheeks and tickled coolly on his brow as he climbed. The
freshness of the air seemed to transport his nervousness far away.
“Not bad for a
newbie. Just don’t let go,” Jamie called from below.
Bobby giggled as
he knelt on the roof of the train car. The breeze rippling his wild hair,
filling his nostrils with earth and pine and a hint of fresh dew. The mists of
morning still clung to the rolling green in the weak, early light. Far to the
east the sun remained hidden behind a range, an explosion of orange rising up
to meet the stark blue. Bobby was so transfixed he almost forgot about why he’d
come up to begin with. Riding on top of the car was unlike anything he’d ever
experienced. He wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, watching the
land roll by clean and untainted in slow motion.