End of the Line by Nicky James

EIGHTEEN

Leopold

Our train didn’t stop like we’d hoped. We ended up having to catch on the fly as it came out of the Moose Jaw yard. I still wasn’t a solid enough rider to help search for an appropriate car. With my pack weighing me down, it took all my concentration to stay on my feet while running alongside the train as Tyler, Killian, and Willow did the looking. The best car we were able to grab was what Killian called a piggyback car. It wasn’t one he’d mentioned in our initial train car lesson.

I learned a piggyback car was a flatbed carrying a semitrailer. “Not the best choice,” Killian explained. “But it will do.”

We rode underneath the semi, which left us exposed on all four sides. The wind was cutting and bitter cold, the noise worse somehow, and we were in the open for anyone to see. It was close to impossible to stay hidden on a piggyback car. Willow explained we had to stay low and flat until we were away from the city. Our dark clothing and masks would help. The semi’s wheels provided the smallest barrier, but it was better than nothing.

“It’ll be fine,” Tyler explained once we were on. “It will be countryside for the most part, and we’re traveling at night. The dark will keep us hidden.”

“If the train stops for a shift change somewhere along the tracks, we can always look for a better spot,” Killian said. “But we don’t have too far to go.”

Sleep felt impossible. It was cold, colder than it had been since Montreal, and I couldn’t get warm. My teeth chattered incessantly, and my muscles ached as much from tensing against the wind as from the steady vibrations running through the metal frame of the train underneath us. I was sure my bones were going to shatter apart and disintegrate into dust. It felt worse than usual. I was uncomfortable and exhausted.

We dug out our sleeping bags, and I climbed in, seeking any warmth I could get, zipping the zipper as high as it would go. Killian laid his bag next to mine. We rested under the semi-trailer, using our rucksacks as pillows as we set off into the night.

Killian stayed beside me, his hands wrapped around mine, rubbing them when I shivered and shuddered. Talking was difficult, but every now and then he’d slink closer and peck my cheek, shout-whispering words I couldn’t make out. It didn’t matter what he said. The sentiment was clear. We were both riding a wave of elation after our time on the warehouse rooftop. My cheeks hurt from smiling, and Killian’s grin was just as brilliant.

I worked to ignore my discomfort and focus on those good feelings.

Inside, I was full and happy for the first time in a long time. My life was my own. My choices were my own. Freedom was something I’d longed for since I was old enough to understand how constrained my life would always be.

And Killian was better than all the fantasies I’d been harboring since I was a teenager, dreaming of my Prince Charming and who he might be. His ideas, his hopes and dreams, his reckless abandon, his spontaneity. I cherished every part of him. I wanted to be by his side as he traveled through life, riding on the current of the wind without a care about tomorrow.

What we’d shared already was more special and thrilling than all my life experiences combined—and I had done a lot of things thanks to my family’s wealth. I wasn’t a novice when it came to other men, but the feelings I had for Killian were new and precious. They warmed me inside and out.

Barrett had given me my first taste of a relationship, but it had been toxic, and there was nothing positive about what we’d shared. All the other men I’d known intimately had come and gone. They had helped me discover who I was, so I didn’t regret anything. But none of it compared to Killian.

Killian was important. Killian saw beneath the surface to the person I really was.

I couldn’t stop replaying the moments we’d shared in my head. In a half-awake fog, I relived every kiss and touch, every blistering sensation of our bodies together. My world spun with images of Killian. My chest swelled with emotion. Would he think I was insane if I told him I was falling for him? Was it too fast? Too soon?

We’d known each other a few short weeks, but we’d spent every waking second of every single day together. Killian knew me better than the people who’d known me my whole life.

In the end, I kept my feelings to myself and let the memories encase and surround me, lulling me into a fitful sleep.

Tyler said our ride to Calgary was approximately seven hours long. By the time morning arrived, we would be there. We would find a place to eat and lay low for the day and take the next freight out to Vancouver the following evening. Another ten or so hours on that train and we would be at Killian, Tyler, and Willow’s first intended destination.

Killian had said we would travel south after that, aiming for San Diego, but I got the sense he wanted to take a break in Vancouver and recharge. He knew people and had connections.

I trusted him.

I tossed and turned in my sleeping bag, unable to get warm. The tangled images of Killian morphed and shifted. I thought of Barrett and my escape to the train yard in Montreal. I thought of men chasing me. Hands grabbing me.

My bones ached. My chest grew tighter and tighter. I thought the air was getting too cold to breathe. My lungs protested. I moaned and thrashed, skating the edges of sleep, fighting a battle of racing thoughts that wouldn’t calm or stop as they battered the inside of my brain. It was like riding a carousel. They spun faster and faster, flashing at nauseating speed.

I had a vague sense of Killian beside me, stroking my hair, kissing my forehead, but I wasn’t awake enough to acknowledge it.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep. My nightmares were worse. I fought faceless monsters and demons. I ran from dangers I couldn’t see, knowing if I were caught, I would die. The exhaustion in my joints and muscles was unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life. I couldn’t keep going, but if they reached me…

I didn’t know how long I was under, but it felt like eons, like I’d been at war for centuries, when Killian shook me awake several hours later.

“Hey, Leo? Leo, wake up. We’re almost at the yard. You need to get up so we can get off.”

I moaned and opened my eyes to a pale, washed-out dawn. A thick fog covered the fields in the distance beyond the train, and it was frigid. It was beyond frigid. It was like bathing in the arctic. The cold air paralyzed my lungs and made me cough uncontrollably when I tried to take a deep breath. Everything ached. Even my eyelids.

I shivered as I crawled out of my sleeping bag on trembling arms and legs. I sat for a moment, confused and exhausted as Killian handed me the mesh carrier for my sleeping bag.

“Come on. We have to pack up.”

My teeth clacked together, and my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Under my clothes, my skin was covered in a slick of sweat.

Willow and Tyler tugged their masks down and surveyed the tracks in the distance.

“Are we close?” I asked, finding my balaclava and working it on.

“Yeah. The fog will help us stay hidden.” Killian studied me with a frown. “Are you okay? You’re red around the eyes and pale.”

“It’s cold, and I’m tired. What time is it?”

“Almost seven thirty. You thrashed all night.”

I shrugged.

I didn’t have anything to say to that. The shadowy images of my nightmares were still pressing in on me, looming in the dark corners of my brain. My chest ached, and I coughed, trying to pull the cold air into my lungs again without success.

Coughing hurt.

Everything hurt.

Killian pressed his lips together tightly and waited until the fit calmed. He helped me get my rucksack on, and we joined the others where they hid behind the semi’s massive wheels.

The train was slowing. It wouldn’t be long. The wind cut through my jacket and stung my eyes. I wrapped my arms around my middle and whimpered. How was it this cold? It zapped my energy and made me want to find my sleeping bag again and crawl inside.

The grass growing alongside the tracks was covered in frost and glimmered in the morning light. I didn’t know if it was the briskness or the heavy diesel fumes lingering in the moist air, but the incessant tickle in my throat and pinching in my chest wouldn’t cease.

I coughed again, and it slashed like knives through my tender lungs. I groaned. Killian smacked me on the back when I couldn’t stop. Willow and Tyler glanced back, assessing me with matching frowns.

“Is he okay?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t think so,” Killian said. “Before he put his mask on, he was pale as a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I tried to say, but I couldn’t stop coughing. It was phlegmy and barking, which I didn’t think were good signs. I hoped when we got off we could find a place to rest. I didn’t think I could walk for hours today. There was no way. Maybe we could get a motel room and sleep until we had to get back to the yard. Paul had given us money. I had some leftover. I would suggest it once we were off.

My chest spasmed, and I bent over, coughing, saliva dribbling through the small mouth hole in my mask.

Willow exchanged a look with Killian. I tried to stifle the cough and hold it inside, but it didn’t work. Once again, I was a burden. I didn’t want to be that person anymore.

Luckily, Tyler announced it was almost go time, so the attention shifted back to our jump.

Only when I balanced on the edge of the moving freight car did I realize how badly I was shaking and how weak my body was. Killian must have sensed it. He took a firm hold of my jacket and wouldn’t let go like he feared I’d fall.

The train yard was lost in the distant fog, so Tyler had his phone out to gauge our distance. The train’s speed was coming down to a reasonable level, and I ran through what I had to do in my head. Hit the ground running. Go as fast as I could, or I’d face plant and knock my teeth out. Worse, I could roll under the moving train and die.

My body protested the idea of jumping and running, but I ignored it. I didn’t have a choice.

The moment arrived too soon. I wasn’t prepared. I’d been lost in my head, pep-talking my way through the motions, and must have missed what was going on. Tyler and Willow were peeling my rucksack from my shoulders while Killian kept me upright.

“What are you doing?” I managed to say between labored, painful breaths.

“We’ve got ya,” Tyler yelled, patting my cheek. “Killian will toss your bag after I jump. You focus on landing on your feet. Can you do that, Green?”

I wanted to tell him it was impossible, that I didn’t have an ounce of strength left, but he was moving to the edge of the car, preparing to go. Killian’s face was a picture of concern. He took my hand and squeezed.

With his face close to mine, he shouted over the train. “Don’t fall. Land on your feet, and we’ll find somewhere to lay low. I promise. You can sleep this off. You can do this.”

I nodded when he seemed to be expecting a response. Don’t fall.

Tyler jumped and ran when his feet hit the ground. Like a seasoned pro, he made it look easy. Willow tossed my bag over the edge then followed, landing with the same grace.

“We go together,” Killian said. “You jump, and I’ll be on your tail. Don’t fall. Please don’t fall, Leo.”

Killian kept me steady until the moment I took that frightening step off the train. I didn’t think I had the energy to stand, let alone run, but when my feet connected with the ground, my survival skills kicked in, and I ran like my ass was on fire. Adrenaline gave me the boost I needed, and I didn’t fall.

Killian was behind me in a flash when I came to a jogging halt beside the train. I bent over with my hands on my knees, coughing and choking on thick phlegm. In the end, I vomited onto the rocky ground.

Where had this come from? What was wrong with me? I was fine last night. Now I felt like death. How did I get so sick so fast?

“Come on.” Killian wrapped an arm around me and guided me through the morning mist to a line of trees that hadn’t been visible from the train. Willow and Tyler were there, crouching out of sight and waiting. I collapsed beside them, my energy zapped, my lungs like shredded paper.

“Jesus,” Willow said, wrapping me in her arms to keep me from face-planting in the dirt. “He’s burning up. I can feel the heat radiating off him even through his layers. He’s drenched in sweat too. He’s going to be hypothermic in this weather if we don’t do something. Look at him.”

“We need to find somewhere to lay low,” Tyler said. “A motel or something. Get him some cough syrup and let him sleep it off. Green, don’t you rich kids have immune systems? What the heck, man?”

He was joking around, but I didn’t have the capacity to play along. I groaned and let Willow hold me. Killian dug out the money from Paul and picked a few bills from the pile.

“Here. You two go find a drug store and get more Tylenol and Buckley’s and whatever else you can find for colds.”

“Dude, do you really want to subject him to Buckley’s? That’s almost cruel. He doesn’t have Canadian blood. Are you sure he can handle it?”

“Yeah, I thought you two were, like, in love or something,” Willow chimed in. “Buckley’s is the equivalent of poison.”

I blinked at Killian, not understanding what the fuss was about.

Killian held out the money, a deadpan expression on his face. “It’s the best stuff for coughs that you can buy over-the-counter. Tell me it’s not.”

Neither Tyler nor Willow disagreed.

“Now, please go. We’ll head to a motel. I’ll text you where we’ll—” Killian made a face. “Dammit. Give me your phone.” He waved a hand at Tyler.

Tyler frowned but handed Killian his phone. Killian messed around with it for a minute before handing it back. “We’ll head to this motel and get a room. Meet us there.”

Tyler nodded, and Killian tugged me to my feet. Willow helped me get my pack on. “Are you going to be able to carry this?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

She pushed my balaclava up to my forehead. I’d forgotten it was down. Her hands were cold when she touched my cheeks, and my teeth chattered. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel so good.”

“We’ve run you into the ground. You’re not used to this.”

“I’m okay. Just need that Buckley’s, I guess.”

Willow snorted and shook her head. “Oh, boo. You have no idea. I won’t blame you if you hightail it back to Germany after Killian shoves that down your gullet.”

I glanced at Killian, a wobbly unease growing in my belly.

“It’s not that bad,” he said.

“No, it’s a thousand million times worse,” Tyler said. “Come on. Let’s move.”

Willow and Tyler headed off into the morning mist, vanishing from sight. Killian gave me a minute to gain my strength and took my arm. We walked at a much slower pace through the trees toward a road. I was starting to see a pattern. Train yards were often on the outskirts of cities in more industrial areas. It meant we had to hike a few blocks to get where we were going.

“Where’s your phone?” I asked.

He didn’t answer for a long minute. “I can’t find it.”

“Oh. That’s not good.”

“No. I’ll have to get another one. In Vancouver. We’ll both get one.”

“What about Dodger’s number?”

Killian tapped his temple. “I have the important ones stored up here.”

“Good. I told him I’d keep in touch. We’re going to smoke more joints together.”

Killian chuckled. “Maybe wait until you can breathe a little better.”

“Weed was fun.”

“I know.”

“You ever smoked it?”

“A couple of times.”

“Swimming in the grove was fun too.”

“It was.”

“It was cold.”

“It was.”

“Killian?”

“Yeah, Leo?”

“I’m really sick.”

He squeezed me tighter. “I know. I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed my temple, and for as awful as I felt, that simple gesture made me smile.

We stumbled along together, Killian taking some of my weight as I worked on putting one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t long before we emerged onto a road. Like I’d guessed, it was a less populated area with vacant lots, run-down houses that needed to be condemned, a few warehouses, factories, and storage facilities. In one direction was the train yard, in the other the train station. We crossed the road, and Killian veered down a side street.

Old, rusted cars were parked along one side. The asphalt had been patched so many times it looked like a giant shattered mirror pieced together with tar. Dried leaves lined the gutters, the bare branches of trees reaching for the gray sky. It was then I noticed the fog was lifting.

“It isn’t far. Do you need to stop and rest?” Killian asked when I stumbled over my feet for the third time.

“No. Let’s keep going.”

We walked along the road for a while in silence. There was little traffic traveling in both directions, not like in the heart of the city, but a steady enough drone it hummed in the background. Killian had explained that we needed to go about five blocks to the motel.

I was only half paying attention, relying on Killian to be the guide, when a blip blip sounded behind us.

Killian’s fingers dug into my arm, and I stumbled when he came to a stop, frozen.

Killian glanced over his shoulder. “Oh fuck.”

Lifting my head and turning around to see what he was looking at took effort. When I saw the two police cruisers and several officers piling out of them, fear eclipsed my illness, and a shot of adrenaline flooded my veins. At the same moment, a third cruiser turned down the street in front of us and pulled to a stop, blocking the road. We were surrounded.

My heart cantered like a runaway horse as it dawned on me that I’d been found. I’d been caught. My greatest fear since leaving Montreal was being realized.

One of the officers—the first one out of his cruiser—placed a hand on the butt of his gun and glared at Killian. His words were also for Killian, not me, which boggled my soupy brain.

“Son, I need you to let go of that man’s arm and step away. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Killian?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. This is my fault.”

I didn’t understand. What was happening? Why was he sorry? And why were these men focusing on Killian and not me? A crippling burst of coughs made it impossible for me to ask questions. I clung to Killian’s arm as the fit passed. The weakness seeping through my body was getting worse.

The officer stepped forward when Killian didn’t act. His words when he spoke again weren’t as kind. “Step away from Leopold and keep your hands where I can see them. Now.”

Killian still didn’t listen. I was leaning too heavily against his side. I think he feared I’d fall if he released me.

I tried to speak, but my voice was rough, and a coughing fit took me again before I got a single word out. I wanted to cry. My legs wobbled, and Killian held me tighter, keeping me on my feet.

The officer didn’t like that.

“Step away from him and put your hands where I can see them.”

“I can’t,” Killian yelled. “Are you fucking blind?”

“Do… what he says,” I said between labored, gasping breaths. “Please.”

I didn’t want them to hurt Killian.

Killian held tight. “He’ll collapse if I let go. He’s sick.”

There were more officers behind us, and they’d moved closer. Killian glanced around and back to me. “I’m so sorry, Leo. It’s all my fault.”

“I’m okay.”

His face pinched with worry. He let go of my arm and stepped aside, putting his hands up, fingers splayed. “What did I do?” he asked the officer.

“Drop the bag on the ground.”

Killian dropped the bag.

“Move away from it and lie down on your stomach. Keep your hands spread to the sides.”

“I’m not armed,” Killian said. “I didn’t do anything.”

“What’s going on?” My words were gravelly and weak.

As Killian moved to follow their instructions, a male and female officer approached me, taking me gently by the arms and guiding me to one of their vehicles. I stumbled along, glancing backward the whole time. Tears filled my eyes as I watched the officer pounce on Killian.

“What are they doing? Why?”

“Have a seat, Leo,” the female officer said. She spoke kindly but with an edge of authority.

I expected handcuffs. I expected to be read my rights and told I was being arrested for murder.

What I didn’t expect was a team of police officers doting on me, fussing like I was a fragile child. They stripped my rucksack from my shoulders and lowered me to the ground to sit. I fought to see what was happening with Killian, but there was a swarm of people around me.

“He needs an ambulance,” someone said.

“Is he injured?” another voice asked.

“Jesus, look at him. He’s a mess.”

The first glimpse I got of Killian was of him in cuffs being shoved into the back of a cruiser. Our eyes caught, and the overwhelming sadness directed back at me sent tears down my cheeks. None of this made sense. I should have been the one in the cruiser. I was the one who’d killed a man. Not Killian. He’d done nothing wrong. He’d taken me under his wing and cared for me without knowing a thing about me.

Now this?

“What’s going on?” I managed to ask as another coughing fit crippled me and stole my focus. Every muscle in my body screamed with agony. Crying wasn’t helping. I choked and sputtered, gasping and coughing more. “Why are they arresting him? I’m the one you want.”

A female officer with nice teeth and worried eyes pressed a cold cloth to the back of my neck. “Shh. Calm down, hun. You’re making yourself worse. Leo? Your name is Leo, right?”

I tried to focus on her face. She had a nice face.

“Why are they arresting Killian?”

“Are you hurt, Leo? Are you injured?”

“No.” I tried to peer around her, but she blocked my way, insistent on looking into my eyes. She dabbed a tissue to my cheeks and nose. “You don’t look so good, kiddo.”

“I’m sick. Where are they taking Killian? Why did they arrest him? He didn’t do anything.”

“We’ve been looking for you. A lot of people have been worried. We have an ambulance coming. Can you tell me if you’re hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine.” Tears burned my eyes, and I hiccupped and sagged against the cruiser.

The woman rubbed my arm and helped me blow my nose like I was three. “There you go. Calm down. You’re safe now.”

I wasn’t in danger, I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a single plea. “Killian. I want Killian.”

The world faded into a mishmash of noise and blurred images. Exhaustion took over the longer I sat. No one would answer my questions. The bustle of police officers all treated me like a child who somehow needed to be rescued. It made no sense. Why had they arrested Killian? Why wasn’t I in trouble too? What was going on? How had they found me?

An ambulance arrived, and my protests went unheard as two paramedics got me on a stretcher.

“I’m just sick,” I tried to explain.

“Lie back and rest, bud.”

As they fussed and fiddled with their machines—one person running an IV into my arm, the other announcing my temperature was 103.6—a team of black cars squealed to a stop at the perimeter of the area the police had blocked off.

A needle pierced my skin, and I sucked in a surprised breath at the pinch.

“Just something to bring down your temperature faster.”

A cacophony of noise erupted down the road. Police in a heated conversation with whoever had arrived. It lasted a minute or two before a blur of men dressed in black suits pushed through the crowd of officers.

I knew those men. I’d spent years with them shadowing me.

Stefan and Harlan emerged and raced to my side. They spoke in fast German, shoving the paramedics out of their way so they could get to me. The two police officers who flanked my stretcher refused to budge, and they earned nasty glares.

“Christ, Leopold,” Stefan growled, his words clipped and angry as he scanned me head to toe. “You about gave your father a heart attack. What were you thinking? Stupid child.”

A protest was on the tip of my tongue, but I’d used the last reserve of my strength, and my fight was gone—or maybe they’d given me something to knock me out. My eyelids fluttered, growing heavy as a thick, muddy cloud pressed in from all sides. I had a vague notion of Stefan getting shoved aside by one of the paramedics. Then I was moving.

I was inside an ambulance.

The two police officers were there. Maybe I was under arrest.

Then it all faded away to nothing.