2

It went on like this for weeks. Ron would leave early and come back late at night drunk, sitting in my room was all I could do to keep him away. He didn’t used to be like this, sure we had our differences, but that was when Ma was still here.

            My burns healed after a while, but they left a pinkish red blotch from my palm to my elbow, he had tried to come at me with a broken beer bottle but I managed to get away. I once slept in the park just so I wouldn’t have to worry about him, it was freezing, but quiet.

            It must have been about 2 months before he came into my room one morning, “Rickey?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“You are.”

“What happened?” he asked pointing to my arm.

“I got burned.”

“You should be more careful.”

“Sure.” I said through gritted teeth.

“Look, since Natalie’s gone, I think it would be best if we went our separate ways.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Look, I called a boy’s home and-“

“What!? You can’t just dump me in some home! I ain’t an orphan!”

“Be reasonable.”

“I am! I still have a dad!”

“Your good for nothing father wants nothing to do with you.”

“Apparently you don’t either.”

“Pack what you need, you’re leaving in two days.”

“I’m not leaving.” Being here was better than being treated like an orphan.

“No you’re not!” he shouted.

            We were silent, as we glared at each other.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” He left slamming the door behind him.

“You can’t deal with this!?” I shouted at him, even though he couldn’t hear me.

            I pulled the letter from the dirty pair of jeans on the floor, maybe this would be the better option, I thought.

 

            I had no money, and Ron always had cash in his coat pocket except he didn’t know it when he was drunk. He forgets half the important things, like where he lives. Yeah, I had to go to the police station to get him cause he wandered in there thinking that, that was where he lived.

            All I had in my coat pocket was the letter and a couple of matches. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t care.

            I waited for that drunk to come home, I needed the cash for food. I sat on the bed in the quiet house staring at my reddened arm under the sleeve of my jacket. Why? I was in just as much pain as he was and I didn’t burn his arm (let’s just put aside the fact that if I tried I would fail, since I am not strong). I was taking care of him!

            I heard the door open and close, then his mumbled and slurred words that made no since to anyone but another drunk filled the empty house. There was a thump and after that, silence. I waited a good 10 minutes before I figured it was safe to go out and get whatever money Ron had left.

            I got up quietly and opened the bedroom door. I saw Ron sprawled out on the couch, his coat on the floor beneath him. I stepped out the door and quietly walked down the short hallway coming closer and closer to him, fully aware of the fact that he could wake up at any moment. Every noise I made seemed like it could be heard around the world. I was about three feet away from him and I could smell the booze that stenched his clothes. He turned over and I quickly snatched the coat from the floor. I held it up and dug through the pockets, only finding a twenty took it and stuffed it into my pocket.

            I gently put the coat back down so I wouldn’t wake him. The door was only a few feet away, what could go wrong? I took a light step and the floor board creaked, Ron turned over and sat up. I stood still afraid my pounding heart would give me away. He looked directly at me but didn’t say anything. I must have stood there for about five minutes staring at each other.

“Everyone’s leaving me.” He said finally, and he slumped over and went back to sleep.

            I stood there a few minutes before I walked to the door and stepped out.

            My hand was still on the handle, why wouldn’t I let go? I guess I thought if I let go, I would lose, myself. While the cold wind howled in my ear I stood on that porch. It was quiet while I stood there, I didn’t know why I wouldn’t let go. If I stayed I’d be put in a boy’s home. I was sixteen, two years didn’t sound too bad, but, I had a real dad.

“Go.” Someone said.

            I let go and turned around but found no one. I looked at our old beaten down house once more, before I ran.

 

            It was late and there was only one train that was on the tracks this time. Every night at 3am the train would blow its whistle before it took off for Utah. I knew a couple of kids who had taken it to get away from their abusive parents or an orphanage. That train was like a ride to freedom for us.

            I walked cautiously along the rails with little light to guide me. The faint lights from the train was what I was headed for. The air was so cold I could see my breath. As I got closer and closer, I kept to the shadows so as not to attract any attention to myself. About a dozen people were stacking and loading sacks of seed on the loading dock. They shouted to each other to hurry up. I snuck behind the ticket office watching. I had heard that the guards were tough. Once they had nearly beaten a boy to death and when he was well enough to leave the hospital, his old man laid a number on him. Eventually he made it to California and the rest of us never heard from him again.

            Then I saw him, the guard stood about six feet tall in a tan uniform, he had a holster for a thick foot long wooden stick. Every few cars he would stop and shine a flashlight inside. At one point he hopped inside found a kid, he pushed the kid out nicked him a few times before he ran off. When the guard looked my direction, I pressed up against the side of the ticket office almost certain he hadn’t seen me. After a few minutes I mustered up the courage to look again, when I looked he was gone. I stepped out a little further, he was definitely gone. When I stepped back into the shadows I came face to (almost) face with the guard (so much for being gone).

“Think you were gonna sneak onto my train?” he nearly growled.

“Well technically it’s not your train.” What was I doing?

            He didn’t want to hear it, he raised his club and before I could get out of the way he hit me so hard in the ribs I nearly keeled over. I missed his next swing and bolted towards the grove of trees expecting him to follow. When I looked back I saw he had found another kid to wail on, this time a girl. He got her by the collar of her coat and half dragged her to the ticket office while she squirmed to get away.

            The train whistle blew and people scrambled in and out. The conductor shouted for everybody to board (even though it was in the middle of the night). The whistle blew again, I needed to go now, but the guard was still outside with the girl trying to get her inside. He opened the door, the train began to move, he stepped in with the girl, I saw my chance and ran.

“Hey!” someone shouted, I didn’t care, I was running to the train and there was no way I was going to stop.

            The train went faster and faster and I tried to keep up with it. I stumbled and nearly fell. A car with a ladder attached to it passed by me, I jumped and caught it and held on. The car was open so I stepped off the ladder and onto the box car floor.

            I was on my hands and knees still catching my breath, then my side began to ache, I gently pressed down and flinched. The guard had gotten me good, but he was long gone by now.

            The steady rumble of the rail hummed throughout the box car like music. The full moon hovered above the tall pine trees. I fell asleep listening to the hum of the train and rush of the cold wind. I was on my way.

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A wild chapter.
"The steady rumble of the rail hummed throughout the box car like music. The full moon hovered above the tall pine trees. I fell asleep listening to the hum of the train and rush of the cold wind. I was on my way."
I liked the above lines. I like the need to escape and the good description leading to the strong ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote