End of the Line by Nicky James

TEN

Killian

Tyler had no luck in Carman. Deep down, I knew he was hurting, but he wasn’t the type of person to show too much emotion. He packed his disappointment away and refused to talk about it, plastering on a fake smile and acting like it was just another day.

We hitched a ride back to Winnipeg and found a seedy bar to hang out at for a couple of hours before we headed to the rails. The pub was one we’d frequented before. They served cheap nachos, so we ordered a massive platter to split between us. None of us drank beer since we were catching out that evening and wanted clear heads.

We crowded around a small table near the back of the room beside the long bar. Leo remained glued to my side, his wide eyes taking in everything with curiosity and wonder. It was the type of place where the questionable people of society hung out. The hints he’d dropped about his past led me to believe it was the type of place Leo would never have stepped foot in in his old life.

The lighting was low, and the tables were dingy and sticky. Most of them sat unevenly on the floor despite the wads of napkins or folded cardboard people had stuffed under the legs years ago. A cloud of body odor mixed with the scent of hops and grease hung in the air. Two men in leather jackets with bellies that made them look nine months pregnant shot a game of pool at the only table. They both had long silvering hair tied back in ponytails and beards that were worthy of ZZ Top. A guy in a tattered suit with his shirt untucked and mud on his trousers looked to be having a particularly bad day.

There were a few TVs mounted in the corners. Two of them were set to the same football game—Tampa Bay was down by three, and Kansas City was about to kick another field goal, increasing their lead. The other TV played one of those twenty-four-hour news broadcasts. The murmur of customers’ voices drifted over the dated music—Harry Chapin crooning about cats in the cradle.

Tyler and Dodger were debating what time our train was anticipated to roll through, while Leo unwrapped yet another candy and popped it into his mouth.

“He’s going to have a mouth full of cavities at this rate,” Willow said, leaning in and talking by my ear.

I grinned and watched Leo as he watched the burly men shoot pool. “He’s been deprived. Leave him alone.”

“Deprived? Um, Killer, your would-be boyfriend is the furthest thing from deprived. We might not know where he’s from, but wherever it is, he comes from money. A lot of money.”

“So? That means nothing.”

I remembered Leo’s story about McDonald’s and how he’d been raised by nannies who weren’t always nice instead of a mother who had other obligations that didn’t include a child. This was a guy whose father held monthly game nights with cigars and expensive liquor. Who went to Portugal for vacations and attended private school. Yes, I knew Leo had come from money. It was obvious in the way he spoke and carried himself. But I’d also seen the look in his eyes when he’d ordered a cheeseburger Happy Meal for the first time. I’d seen the smile on his face when he learned how to work the Transformer toy that came with it. And if he wanted to stuff his face with Jolly Ranchers until his tongue was raw and teeth rotted out, who was I to take that simple pleasure away from him?

Something told me just because Leo had grown up privileged and well-off didn’t mean he’d grown up happy.

His words after I’d asked if his father knew about his sexuality rang through my head. It’s… unconventional for him. Father told me it’s a phase. He was happy to ignore it while I was in high school, but when I continued my endeavors in university, he told me it was time I ‘got over myself.’

“We should get tattoos,” Leo said, apropos of nothing. He was still watching the men at the pool table, his candy clinking against his teeth as he rolled it around in his mouth. The men had removed their leather jackets, showing off tight T-shirts that clung to their round midsections. Their arms were covered with tattoos.

“Tattoos?” Dodger shared a confused look with Tyler before cocking a brow at me like I had something to do with it.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Leo spun back to the table, grinning. “You know, like, to symbolize your community. Rail Riders, or whatever you want to call it. Motorcycle gangs do that. The mafia too, I think. I’m sure lots of select communities have similar practices. Why not yours? You four could start the trend and post it online in your forums. I bet others would follow suit.”

No one said anything. They all stared at Leo like he’d lost his mind. When no one jumped with excitement, he flushed. “Or not. It was a dumb idea. Forget it.”

“You want a tattoo, Green?” Willow asked.

His eyes blew wide. “No. I meant for you, not me.”

Tyler snorted. “A tattoo. Do you hear this guy?” he said to Dodger. “He wants us to get tattoos.”

“I could design it. An emblem or logo or something. I’m pretty artsy. It wouldn’t be hard.”

His suggestion was met with more silence.

“Never mind.”

He rooted around in a pocket and came up with a new candy. I took it from him before he could unwrap it and tucked it back into his pocket. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”

He sulked and didn’t seem to know where to put himself.

I kissed his temple and whispered in his ear. “I like the tattoo idea, but only if you get one too. You’re one of us now, remember?”

“My father would kill me.”

I didn’t have a chance to ask if his father’s opinion mattered anymore. Our waitress, a wide-shouldered woman with a thick neck who some might describe as butch, delivered our nachos. She had the upper body of a linebacker, and yet her legs were like toothpicks, fading off into nothing. I didn’t know how she remained balanced. She was so disproportionate it made it hard not to stare. She had a sharp brow that sat at a hostile angle, and her voice was that of a longtime smoker. Her hair was short and spiked, dyed black. Her skin was weathered and rubbery.

“Anything else?”

“More water?” Willow asked, tapping her empty glass.

“Me too, please,” Tyler and Dodger chimed in.

“I’m good.” My glass was still over half-full.

Her hard eyes turned to Leo, whose mind was elsewhere as he watched the men across the bar again.

I kicked his foot to grab his attention. When he swung around, I thumbed at our waitress. “Do you want another drink?”

“Oh.” He smiled at the woman, whose frown deepened. “No thank you.”

She remained focused on Leo for a beat, staring and squinting before looking back to the TV in the corner by the bar. Her attention went back to Leo, then to the TV. She shook her head and wandered off, grumbling something under her breath.

Willow distributed small plates, and everyone stacked piles of nachos on top, strings of cheese dangling and stretching long before breaking. Dodger and I fought over the jalapenos, and Willow hogged the sour cream. Leo sat motionless at my side.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

He glanced at the TV on the wall, and I followed his gaze. The broadcast showed two news anchors, a professionally dressed Black man and a pretty Latina woman, who were discussing something with exaggerated hand movements. The volume was off, but the closed captioning told me they were talking about the history of some pharmaceutical empire in another country. The man nodded at whatever the woman said.

I nudged Leo’s arm.

He turned, a shaky smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You okay? You look pale. Did you make yourself sick on Jolly Ranchers?”

“No. I’m fine.” He flashed his gaze at the TV again and back, sitting straighter. “Let’s eat.” He used two forks to transfer some of the nachos to his plate.

All during our meal, I caught Leo sneaking glances at the TV. He didn’t eat more than a few chips before his focus shifted. The obsessive hand wiping motion that had been tapering off returned in full force. It was more excessive than before and included picking at his nails and scratching at his palms. When I was about to ask what was wrong, he shoved away from the table, announcing he needed to pee before scampering to the bathrooms at the other side of the bar.

“What’s up with Green?” Tyler asked, watching after him. “Is he gonna puke?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s all the candy he’s been shoving in his face,” Willow said.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

Willow nudged my shoulder. “Well, maybe go find out?”

I was about to rise from the table when the television near the bar, the same one Leo had been glaring at, drew my eye. A picture of Leo filled the screen. I almost didn’t recognize him. The man on the TV wore navy slacks, a silky, baby-blue dress shirt with a complementary tie and a long wool coat that wasn’t buttoned up. He had a hundred-dollar haircut, and the backdrop was of a massive nineteenth-century building surrounded by large trees. Under the picture were the words, If you have information on the whereabouts of Leopold Van Eschen, 23, please contact local authorities immediately.

“Holy shit. That’s Green.” It was Dodger who spoke, but his voice was a muffled haze inside my head, barely audible under the steady thrum of my heart beating in my ears.

The picture of Leo vanished, replaced by a newscaster who was standing outside a familiar building in Montreal. A smartly dressed man and woman in their fifties stood beside her. The woman was stoic, but the man wore his emotions on his face.

The female newscaster was interviewing them. Scattered in the background were several men in black suits who looked like security or bodyguards.

The captioning scrolled across the bottom of the screen, but I didn’t get a chance to read it. Movement behind the bar caught my eye. Our waitress had a phone pressed to her ear as she watched the news broadcast.

I darted from my seat, the legs of my chair screeching across the ground. “We need to get the hell out of here. Now! She’s calling the police.”

“What the fuck is happening, man?” Tyler hissed, grabbing my sleeve.

Willow stared slack-jawed at the TV.

Dodger was on his feet. “He’s right. Move it! Killer, go get Green and slip out the back door. We’ll get your bags and meet you behind the old Blockbuster down the road. Do you remember where it is?”

I nodded.

“Go.” He shoved me toward the bathrooms. I wanted to hug the fuck out of him for not asking questions.

Tyler pulled crumpled bills from a pocket as Willow shoved her arms through the straps of her pack, her eyes still on the TV. “Jesus Christ, he’s the fucking son of a billionaire. Are you guys seeing this?”

“Not now, Willow,” Dodger hissed.

“Someone help me pay for this. I don’t have enough cash.” Tyler glanced frantically among us.

I found a few extra bills in my pocket and added them to the pile, hoping it was enough to cover our meal. Dodger shoved me toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms. When I passed the bar, the waitress gave me a look. She said something to another bartender who caught my eye and moved to go around the bar and come after me.

I ran.

Bursting into the men’s room, I slammed the door behind me and engaged the lock. A chill shivered up my spine. No one was at the urinals. The heavy stench of piss and stale cigarette smoke choked me. A garbage pail overflowing with crumpled paper towels sat in the corner, and the floor was sticky, pulling at the rubber soles of my boots as I turned in a circle.

“Leo? Leo, where are you?”

There were three stalls. The door on the last one was closed. When I peeked underneath, there were no feet, but when I tried to shove the door open, it was locked.

“Leo? Leo, are you in there? We have to get out of here. Now.”

Someone tried to open the bathroom door, but the lock caught. Whoever was behind it jiggled it once before banging with a fist. “Open up.”

“Leo. Now! I told you, whatever happened in the past doesn’t matter. I’m on your side, but if we stay here, we’re fucked. I don’t know what you’re running from, and I don’t care, but you have less than five minutes before the cops swarm this place. We need to leave.”

I took hold of the top edge of the stall door and jumped, pulling my weight up until I could peek over the top. Leo was balanced on the toilet seat, face pale and fear swimming in his eyes.

“Leo, come on. Please. We’re running out of time.”

He glanced up, chin quivering.

“Open the door,” I pleaded.

His teeth chattered, and he pulled at his hands like he was trying to get something off them. He was out of his mind, barely registering anything I was saying.

There was more pounding on the heavy bathroom door. A man shouted from the other side, ordering me to unlock it.

I kicked my boot against the stall hard enough to jar Leo’s attention. “Leo! Listen to me. If you stay in there, I can’t help you. We’re on your side. All of us. You have to believe me.”

My fingers were slipping. I landed on the ground and glanced around the filthy bathroom. It was small. There was a window high on the wall by the sinks, barely big enough for an adult to fit through, but neither of us was bulky, and I had to believe we could make it.

The window was open a crack, so I climbed on the counter and heaved it open farther. It squealed in protest. Peering out, I found an alley on the other side. There was no one around.

The stall door opened behind me, but Leo didn’t come closer. His face was a blank slate as he blinked.

“If I go with you”—more hand wiping—“you’ll be an accomplice.”

I held out my hand. “I don’t care.”

“You’ll go to jail.”

“Only if we’re caught.”

His lower lip quivered. “But—”

“Leo. I don’t care what happened. Please come with me. I don’t want to leave you behind.”

He took my hand. I helped him climb onto the counter and urged him out the window ahead of me. He was halfway through, shimmying and wiggling, when whoever was on the other side of the bathroom door worked a key into the lock.

Several voices sounded from beyond. The minute Leo landed on the other side, I threw myself at the opening, diving headfirst out the window as the bathroom door swung open behind me. A hand grazed my foot, but I kicked it away.

I hit the pavement hard, my arms doing a poor job at bracing my fall. Somehow I managed to avoid breaking my face.

Leo helped me to my feet, and I took his hand tight in mine and ran. It wouldn’t take long before someone pursued us.

The Blockbuster Dodger had mentioned was a few blocks away. The old video store itself had long since closed, and the building sat abandoned. At one time, many years ago, a thrift store had occupied the spot beside it, but it had changed hands so many times in recent years, we never knew what to expect.

At the end of the alley, I peered around the corner to ensure it was safe, then darted across the side street, slipping into another alley to stay out of sight. The blip blip of a police car sounded from the main road nearby. In the distance, I was able to make out the tail end of a staticky radio conversation. The police had arrived.

We didn’t stop running.

At the end of the next alley, we cut down the side street to the main road where the bar was located. I hoped we were far enough away to go unnoticed. The video store was on the other side of the main street and down another block. Cautiously, I poked my head around the corner and surveyed the street while keeping a hand on Leo, urging him to stay behind me.

He hadn’t said a word.

The street was busy, traffic zooming in both directions, pedestrians on both sidewalks. Two blocks down, three police cars were parked in front of the bar. The light bars rolled, painting the buildings with splashes of red and blue. A pair of officers stood on the street, and a crowd had gathered to see what was going on.

When the light on the corner turned green, I grabbed Leo’s hand and walked at a brisk pace across the road, not wanting to break into a run and draw unwanted attention.

“Keep your head down,” I hissed. “Stay close.”

On the other side of the road, I aimed for the side street. Once we were out of sight of the police cars, I ran.

Leo kept pace, still silent.

By the time we reached the Blockbuster, I was convinced we’d gotten away unseen. I took Leo around back where Dodger, Willow, and Tyler were huddled out of sight beside a dumpster. We ducked down with them. Our rucksacks were waiting for us.

Leo’s face was flushed from running, but he was otherwise pale. He glanced among the group with so much fear in his eyes my heart ached. He didn’t trust us not to turn on him.

Dodger must have sensed it too. He patted Leo’s cheek and pulled him in for a backslapping hug. “Hey, Green. Chill out. We’re cool, man. Take a breath.”

“He’s right.” Willow’s voice was softer than I expected. “We have a lot to talk about, but we’re with you.”

Dodger released him, and I wrapped an arm around Leo’s shoulder, pecking his cheek. The terrified look in his eyes remained. He glanced at each of us in turn.

I ruffled his hair and smiled. “You’re a rail rider now. We stick together. We’re family.”

Leo burst into tears.

I took him in my arms and let him cry, hugging him tight and rubbing his back. “It’s all good. We’ll figure it out. You aren’t alone.”

“We’re sitting ducks here.” Tyler peeked around the dumpster. “We’d be better off getting to the tracks and staying low. It’ll be dark in an hour or so. It will help. We can catch out on the first freight through and be gone. Who cares where it goes? We can course correct later.”

“The owner of the bar knows we’re riders,” Willow said. “The police will be all over the tracks in an hour. It might not be wise to leave tonight. They might even stop the freights if they think we’ll be on them.”

“We can’t stay in town. His face is all over the news,” I said.

Leo sniffled and lifted his head. “I have money. I can pay for a cheap motel. We can stay there overnight. Will that help?”

Dodger jumped to his feet. “Yes. We can do that. We should head north. Closer to the rails so we can get out fast when we’re ready. There are some low-end joints that take cash and don’t require ID. One of us can get the room, and the rest can sneak in.”

It was agreed upon. The trick would be getting there unseen, but we were a team, and we worked together to make it happen. I got the sense Leo had never had so many people fight for him before.

And that made me sad.

Money could buy a lot of things, but you couldn’t put a price on friendship.