End of the Line by Nicky James

FOUR

Killian

I took a minute to let the cool night air blow against my cheeks as the freight train moved beyond the yard and picked up speed again as we soared off into the night. There was nothing quite as thrilling as catching on the fly. The intensity of the moment was richer still when I’d made myself responsible for a greenhorn. Not just a greenhorn, but one who was wholly unprepared to ride. How he hadn’t slipped off the rail with those fancy-as-fuck shoes, I had no idea. Part of me had been prepared to watch the guy kill himself.

Glancing at the man beside me, I couldn’t help laughing. The look of sheer terror hadn’t left him. His mask was still over his face, but the whites of his eyes stood out, displaying his lingering panic.

I shoulder-bumped him when his wide eyes landed on me. “Glorious, my man. Glorious. You did well, newbie.” I tugged the balaclava up and off, displaying his face and the shock of blond hair underneath that glowed in the moonlight. “You don’t have to wear that right now as long as you keep your head down, got it?” I tossed the mask in his lap so he could use it later. “Breathe. You did good.”

He nodded and peered from me to the rest of the gang. Everyone else had rid themselves of their face coverings for the time being. So long as we stayed low, we were okay. If we wanted to poke our heads out and look around, it was best to blend in with the train so we wouldn’t be noticed.

After scanning the group, the man studied the small space we’d snagged on the train, a look of terrified wonder in his eyes.

Who was this guy? He didn’t have the makings of a vagabond. His clothing spoke volumes. Whoever he was, he’d wanted out of the city, and he was on his way. What I hadn’t asked back on the side of the tracks was why he was so desperate to leave.

People like us knew better than to poke into someone’s personal life. We all had our reasons for skipping town and hopping freights, and the general rule of thumb in our community was to ask but never push. If someone was willing to share, great. If they weren’t, we knew enough to let it go.

The guy was pale, even in the dark of night. His skin glowed porcelain white, emphasizing a dainty nose, perfect full lips, and model-like cheekbones and eyes. He had a distinct and shapely brow. His blond hair shone like a beacon under the moonlight. It was tousled and showed a hint of curl at his ears, but I would have bet it was ordinarily tamed with a mountain of product.

As he scanned us, he wiped his hands on his pants over and over, checking and frowning at them on occasion. His palms were scraped raw, but otherwise, I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe they itched.

Maybe he didn’t like being dirty.

Dodger, Tyler, and Willow stared intently at our new companion. There was no trust in their eyes, and I couldn’t blame them. We didn’t pick up strays. What I’d agreed to was outside our unspoken rules. What could I say? Money talked. And this guy spoke loud and clear.

“What’s your name?” I yelled. There was nothing quiet about traveling on a freight train. It was deafening and one of the reasons we all wore earplugs.

The man stared back, his lips in a firm line. We sat squished together side by side, and the constant jerking and rattling as we moved along the track threw us against each other, battering our bodies. He was only inches away, his face as clear as it would be in the dark, and I read the concern etched across his brow.

When he didn’t answer, I chuckled. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you a nickname.” I took a second to consider before grinning. “Butterfly. Delicate and too pretty for the hard life.”

Dodger snorted and kicked my boot. “You’re a fucking dork. Stop flirting. We should call him Green.”

“Come on, man. Look at his face. He’s definitely a butterfly. All right, Butterfly, let me make introductions. That asshole over there, the Johnny Depp wannabe, is Dodger. See? I don’t know his real name either, so we use a nickname.”

“His name’s Troy,” Willow said, earning herself double middle fingers from Dodger. “What? Don’t look at me like that. That’s what your mama called you.”

To our newbie, Butterfly, I said, “Best call him Dodger. You aren’t solid enough with us to piss people off. You might find yourself in the middle of nowhere because you were tossed from a moving train.”

Butterfly nodded warily. He clearly didn’t get the joke. “Why Dodger?” he asked.

Dodger grinned. “Because no one can dodge the bulls like me. Ten years hopping freight, and I have yet to be caught. There’s been a few close calls, but I’m fast and slicker than oil.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “And so full of yourself it’s disgusting.”

“A bull?” Butterfly’s face pinched as he glanced between Dodger and me. “Is that like the police?” The new guy had an accent, but it wasn’t French. I couldn’t place it.

“In essence. The railroad system has its own security. They have the power to arrest, so they’re just as dangerous to us. You know this is kinda illegal, right?”

He nodded, but I got the sense he didn’t know.

“Okay, next up. That fine lady over there is my girl, Willow.”

Willow’s face scrunched. “I ain’t your girl, Killer. Don’t tell him that. I’m not his girl,” she told our new friend. “He wishes.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“Killer doesn’t swing that way,” Tyler said. “He wouldn’t know what to do with Willow if he had her. Do you know what a vagina is, Killer?”

I gave Tyler the finger and smacked Butterfly on the shoulder. “I do know what a vagina is, for the record, but he’s right. I don’t swing that way.”

The new guy was suddenly far more interested in studying my face than meeting the gang. Maybe he was a bit thick and didn’t understand what we were alluding to. Or maybe he’d never seen a queer boy up close and personal and was regretting following us onto the train.

I leaned over and spoke teasingly in his ear. “Don’t worry. It isn’t contagious. I won’t make you gay.”

Butterfly didn’t seem to know what to do with that or where to look. It wasn’t like he could shift away from me. There was no room in the well of the car to go anywhere. We were jammed together like sardines in a can and would be for the next six or so hours.

When he glanced at Tyler and flicked his gaze at me, I continued with introductions. “That there is my friend, Tyler. Aunt Nona calls him Ronald McDonald. Show him.”

Tyler tugged his balaclava the rest of the way off and shook his head. His outrageously curly hair puffed out, standing several inches from his head. Even in the dark, the orange glowed. Tyler’s grin was dynamic. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Green.” He was the only one who held a fist out for our new friend to bump.

It took a second, but the guy leaned over and obliged. Never had a gesture looked more awkward. The others must have thought so too. We all laughed. All of us except the newbie who glanced around, looking more and more unsure.

His attention settled on me, his gaze flicking all over my face as though noting and memorizing every detail. “And your name is Killer?”

I gave him a devilish smirk and wiggled my brows. “At your service. I’m who the myths talk about.”

“He wishes,” Dodger said. “His name is Killian, and he’s nothing special, so don’t let him fool you.”

I scowled, pinning Dodger with as much animosity as I could despite the smile wanting to crack my face.

“Hey, don’t give me that look, Killian. My real name came out. Yours can too.” Dodger met Butterfly’s wary gaze. “He hates his name just like me. So we adopted new ones. Call him Killer, call me Dodger, and you’ll be fine. Now, seriously, we either call you Green or Butterfly or you share your real name. What will it be?”

The guy wiped his hands on his pants over and over as his attention moved among all of us. “What’s Green mean?”

“It’s short for greenhorn. It means you’re a newbie rider,” Tyler said. “Take it. It’s better than Butterfly.”

“I like Butterfly,” I said. “Unless you have a real name for us, pal. What will it be?”

The new guy slumped a little, his face a picture of resignation. “Green’s fine.” The apologetic look he gave me was priceless. “I don’t think I like Butterfly. Sorry.”

“Damn, but you’re so pretty. Isn’t he pretty?” I asked the others.

“Keep it in your pants, Killer. You’ll scare him,” Willow said.

“Fine. Green it is.”

Willow, Dodger, and Tyler all hunkered down. It was night. We had a couple of hours until the sun came up and a solid six hours until we reached Toronto. They dug out warm hats, unearthed sleeping bags, and leaned on each other as the train jolted them every which way. We’d been up all night thus far, and we all knew it was best to take time to rest when we could.

Our new guy’s face grew more and more pained as we rumbled along. He cupped his hands over his ears and put his head between his drawn-up knees.

I dug through my pack and found the small container where I kept extra earplugs. Tapping his shoulder to get his attention, I held them out. “They’ll help. Put them in.” I pointed at my ears.

He stuffed them in his ears and gave me a pained smile, mouthing Thank you.

“Are you warm enough?”

He shrugged.

I tugged my sleeping bag out and unzipped it down the side so I could open it wider and use it as a blanket. It wouldn’t be as warm like that, but I couldn’t let the guy freeze to death. He’d paid me to help him out, and there was another five hundred bucks available if I got him wherever he wanted to go. A thousand bucks was pretty sweet cash considering it usually took me a few weeks to make as much in the city.

When the guy saw what I was doing, he helped me spread the bag over both of us. We held it up to our chins and got as comfortable as possible. I tossed my pack behind us to use as a pillow of sorts. The well of the car was small, and our legs wove with the others who were on the opposite side. Green was already close, but he shimmied that much closer until our heads were together and our bodies were touching all along one side.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone barely audible over the train.

I tipped my mouth so it was near his ear. “You really don’t want to tell me your name?”

He studied me for a long moment. Something passed in his eyes. Sadness? Hurt? Despair? “I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to call you Green.”

A trace of a smile crossed his face. “I don’t want to call you Killer.”

I laughed. “If you call me Killian, I really will toss your ass off this train.”

My comment earned me the first real smile from the stranger, and it was breathtaking. It made his eyes crinkle. “I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

“I’ll sort you out, Green. Give me time. You have an accent. Where are you from?”

The smile faded, and the haunted expression he’d carried with him from the train yard returned. Again, he shook his head.

“All right. How about this? What’s your first language?”

He glanced around, shuffling to avoid eye contact, and I knew under the sleeping bag he was wiping his hands again. What was up with that?

“I speak many languages. My native tongue doesn’t matter. I’m fluent in English, so it won’t be a problem.”

Another wall. “Okay. I assume this also means you don’t want to tell me why you’re running from the city.”

He shook his head. More hand wiping. Lots of hand wiping.

A long minute passed. The steady rattle and clang of the train filled the space between us.

“How far can you take me?” he asked, worry pinching his brow.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. The farther the better.”

“My destination was Vancouver, but it was only going to be temporary. I plan to head south to LA or San Diego in November or early December. Do you want to go that far?”

He frowned and wet his lips. “How are you crossing the border?”

“Just like this. Under the radar.”

“No one will know?”

“Not unless we’re caught, and we won’t be. I know what I’m doing. I’m careful.”

Again, he took a minute to digest before nodding. “Yes. San Diego would work. Can I go that far with you? Did I give you enough money?”

“Dude, I’ll tell you what. You give me the promised thousand, pay for all the food and drink when we stock up, along with whatever other expenses come up, and I’ll take you to the end of the line if you want.”

It was a euphemism for wherever he wanted to go, but I didn’t think he understood it that way.

He bobbed his head as he met my eyes in the dark. “Deal.”

When I considered his lack of gear and the distance we had to travel, I added, “When we hit Toronto, we have about ten or fifteen hours to kill before we catch out again. We need to gear you up. You can’t travel like this. Are you sure you have enough cash?”

The guy looked like money wasn’t an issue, but I had to wonder how much he was carrying or had access to.

“It’s fine. I have some. If I need more… I’ll figure it out.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask for more information, but the guy was locked up tight, and my rider’s code forbade it. So I let it slide.

It was hard to chat over the thunderous rumble of the train, so we fell quiet after that. Noise and shaking notwithstanding, the stranger fell asleep. He drooped heavily against my side, head on my shoulder, his hands still for the first time since we’d met.

Tyler and Dodger slept too.

Willow and I locked gazes. I read the concern in her eyes. She was worried this guy would be trouble. He was dead weight and would slow us down. One wrong, dumbass move and we could end up behind bars or with a steep fine none of us could pay. Willow wouldn’t ditch on me, that much I knew. The other two might if they felt it was too risky having him along.

Her worry was valid.

“I’ll teach him. We have a handful of hours in Toronto. He’s gonna get a crash course. Freight-hopping 101.”

Willow rolled her eyes and studied our unexpected passenger. “What’s his deal? Something’s up with him.”

I glanced at the man sleeping on my shoulder. With his face relaxed and fret lines smoothed out, he was even prettier. Under a layer of sweat and something else I couldn’t identify, I caught the scent of expensive cologne. Whoever he was, I got the feeling someone would miss him come morning. Who that someone was was anyone’s guess.

“No idea,” I said almost to myself. “Maybe he’ll open up once he feels safer.”

“He’s running from something.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Willow didn’t say anything after that. It was the truth. Not a single person in the well of the grainer car wasn’t running. We all had our reasons, some more personal than others, but there was always a launching point, a crux that set us on this path. Maybe this was Green’s launching point.

Willow fell asleep a short time later. I was the only one awake, but I had too much on my mind. Dawn arrived, and the sky began to lighten a couple of hours into our journey. It was cold, so I stayed buried in the sleeping bag. Green shifted on my shoulder. He turned toward me in his sleep and cuddled closer, mumbling incoherently under his breath. I didn’t think he had a clue what he was doing, but I didn’t mind the extra body heat.

And he was cute in a well-to-do sort of way.

His nose was cold when it rubbed against my neck. I drew back and studied his slack face as he slept. As the sun rose, it highlighted things I hadn’t seen the previous night. What I’d thought was dirt or mud on his cheeks had the distinct appearance of dried blood. There wasn’t a lot. A smear next to his ear and a bit running along his jaw seemed to be the worst of it. It was dry and flaky. Also, bruising showed on his jaw and over parts of his neck. More vanished under his collar.

Had he hurt himself when I’d yanked him away from the passenger train and we’d fallen? Had he cut himself on the razor-wire fence at the train yard? Apart from a tiny scratch, there didn’t seem to be another mark on his face, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t sliced himself open elsewhere. Maybe that was why he was wiping his hands so furiously. Were they bleeding, and I hadn’t noticed? I made a note to ask him if he was hurt when he woke up. I had a small first aid kit. It wasn’t much, but I had ointment, alcohol wipes, and Band-Aids if he needed them.

It was another hour before the squeal of brakes jarred everyone awake. We were still a couple of hours from our destination, so if we were stopping, it was for one of a few reasons.

Everyone scrambled.

Dodger moved fastest and had a scanner in hand, listening as the rest of us worked to get our faces covered. Green looked… well, green. He didn’t know what was happening, but he’d picked up on our frantic movements.

“Put your mask on and stay down.” I pointed at the balaclava in case he didn’t hear me.

Dodger must have caught something on the scanner, but the piercing metallic whine was too deafening for any of us to make it out. He held it to his ear as we all watched and waited for an update.

I leaned into Green and shouted. “Probably another train passing. It happens often. No big deal. One or the other has to yield.”

Or it could have been an inspection. They happened at random too. Those could be bad for us. If that was the case, they’d stop the train, and rail security would sweep both sides, ensuring everything looked good.

We stood a chance at being discovered if we didn’t stay well hidden. I didn’t tell the new guy since I didn’t want to freak him out. Ordinarily, inspections happened if someone called in a problem. Like if we’d passed through a populated area and someone caught sight of illegal passengers.

“Another train,” Dodger yelled as he stuffed the scanner back into his pack.

A few minutes passed, and our train came to a full stop. The quiet and stillness that followed was surreal. After having been rattled around for hours on end with a deafening roar trying to burst your eardrums, a wave of peace descended over the group. Tyler kneeled and stuck his face over the top of the car, peering down the line in both directions. He pointed ahead. “It’s coming in now.”

He dropped down, and we all waited.

The whole time, Green’s eyes bugged out, but he copied us and stayed low.

The passing train was long. By the time it vanished down the line in the opposite direction, Tyler, Dodger, and Willow were on their feet, looking around. I encouraged the new guy to stand and have a look at the scenery too. It was one of the best things about traveling like this. We were in the middle of nowhere. Vast empty plains stretched out for miles on both sides of the tracks. The rising sun cast a soft pink glow on the horizon.

“Wow,” Green breathed. “This is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Wait until we get closer to the mountains. It will be a week or so, but if you think this is cool, it only gets better.”

The familiar hiss and ticking of a train gearing up to moved sounded.

“Hold on tight,” I said. “Brace yourself.”

No sooner had I spoken than the whole train jerked violently, tossing Green up against my side. A thunderous crash and clang followed as the shock radiated down the line.

The poor guy’s eyes couldn’t have grown wider. “What was that?”

“Slack tension,” I explained. “When the train starts and stops, it pulls on the joints where the cars are connected, eliminating slack. It can toss you around like a rag doll if you aren’t ready for it. Most newbies have no idea how dangerous it can get. Too many people have been thrown and killed because of it. So when the train is starting or stopping, you don’t mess around and hang off the edge or balance anywhere unsafe. You hold tight and get ready for it.”

He nodded.

Lesson number one and an important one too.

It wasn’t too soon for learning. If this guy was going to be with me a while, then he’d better be a quick learner.

The freight started along the track again, building speed a lot faster than most people thought. If we’d hopped off—which we sometimes did during stops in the middle of nowhere—we had to be ready to get back on fast or risk being left behind.

“About two more hours,” Tyler said, checking the time. “You ready, Green? Catching on the fly is one thing. Jumping off a moving train is a whole other ball game. It’s broad daylight, and the last thing we want is to still be on this bad boy when it moves into the yard in Toronto.”

Green glanced from Tyler to Dodger to me. Dodger gave him a nasty look like he didn’t trust our new friend not to screw up.

I smiled, offering him a bit of reassurance. “Just don’t fall, remember? Most important part of freight-hopping.”

“Don’t fall.” He wiped his hands down his pant legs the rest of the way to Toronto.