End of the Line by Nicky James

SIX

Killian

The tiny gasp was what made me turn around. It was a noise of alarm, and it caught my attention.

Green faced away from me, looking at himself in a mirror hanging on the wall of the changeroom. He wore a tight pair of white briefs with a black band advertising a brand I’d never heard of. It wasn’t English. Part of my brain registered the gorgeous round globes of his ass and how they fit perfectly inside the briefs, but it was the miles of skin he’d unveiled that called my immediate attention.

The guy was black and blue like he’d been recently beaten to a pulp. Deep bruises littered his body, some more prominent than others. The one on his hip sent a twinge through my belly, the echo of his pain radiating in my own leg. An inflamed line about an inch wide crossed his lower back at an angle from left to right. It too was an ugly shade of deep red. His upper arms. His legs. His chest. One on his left shoulder. More around his neck. I’d seen the one on his chin.

They were everywhere.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell happened to you?”

Green lifted his head and met my gaze in the mirror. All the color drained from his face as he made a failing attempt at covering his body and the marks.

An impossible feat.

I forced him to turn around so I could study him properly. Gaping, unsure what to say, I took it all in. I could make out fingerprints where he’d been grabbed on his upper arm. The ones around his neck might have been the same. They told a story, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the narrative.

It was ugly.

“It’s nothing,” he stammered, still working to hide behind his arms. “We fell pretty hard at the train yard. Y-you landed on top of me.”

“This did not happen at the train yard.” My retort came out sharper and with more bite than I intended. “And you landed on me when we fell, so nice try.”

Green shrank away. His chin quivered once before he tightened his jaw. His wary eyes—a glacial silver-blue—filled and swam with unshed tears before he ducked his chin, staring at the ground. “I fell a few times getting to the train station. I was in a hurry. It’s not a big deal.”

Well, that was a lie. I could hear it in his voice. The evidence spoke for itself.

Whatever his story, it was bad. I spent another minute examining him head to toe, despite his insistence on trying to hide. There were no gashes or cuts, so the blood on his face must have come from his palms when he’d skinned them. Or the scratch on his cheek—which seemed less likely since it was on the opposite side and superficial.

Or the blood belonged to whoever had done this too him.

That thought stuck out more than the rest, and I filed it away to consider later.

Either way, the bruising—however nasty—seemed to be the worst of his injuries. He was moving all his limbs, so nothing was broken, but it did explain why he’d been limping and why he struggled jumping on and off the train—fancy shoes notwithstanding. It also explained his need for Tylenol. He must have been in agony.

I had a code to adhere to, but if I could get him to talk and tell me what had happened, maybe I could help.

I took his face between my hands and forced his head up. His skin was cool under my palms. I kept my touch light. I didn’t want him to feel trapped or cornered. I only wanted his undivided attention.

Guarded, wary eyes met mine. He was so pale. Skin like porcelain. So utterly beautiful under all the cuts and scrapes and bruises.

“What happened for real?” I asked.

He opened his mouth a few times, but no words came out, then his shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Okay, never mind that. Are you in trouble? Is the person who did this after you?”

Another look of anguish was coupled with a low whine. He cut his gaze to the ground. He didn’t deny the wounds were inflicted by another. It was clear, and he knew it.

A shiver racked his body, and he drew his arms tighter around his waist.

“Look, man. I know you don’t know me, but I’m telling you, you can trust me. The world is a fucked-up place, and no one knows that more than I do. Whatever your story is, whatever happened to make you have to split town is your business. If you want to, you can tell me about it. I won’t tell a single soul. On my honor.” I held up three fingers like I was some glorified boy scout even though I’d never joined as a kid.

Green spent a solid minute pressing and rubbing his lips together, deep contemplation marking grooves on his forehead. When he still wouldn’t talk, I drew up a smile and patted his cheek. “It’s okay. You can be whoever you want to be while you’re with us, and I promise I won’t press you for answers. No one will. Your history is yours alone.”

Doubt and suspicion stared back at me, but under it all, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe the beginning of trust? I hoped so. “Okay,” he mouthed. “Thank you, Killian.”

I cringed. “Ouch, man. Is that necessary? You can call me Killer.”

He made a weak attempt at smiling. “I prefer Killian. It’s a nice name. You should embrace it.”

“Are you sure I can’t know your name? Just between us. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

In that moment, in the changeroom of an old thrift store in downtown Toronto, it felt important. This guy, whoever he was, was adrift at sea. I didn’t know why, but it didn’t matter. All I knew was, I wanted to be his life preserver.

His throat bobbed. He pinched his eyes shut, his lips trembling. When he met my gaze again, he whispered, “It’s Leo. Please don’t tell your friends. Not yet. I… The fewer people who know who I am the better.”

“Leo.” I tested the name on my lips, rolling it over my tongue, unable to stop the smile from filling my face. “I like that. It suits you. Are you a model, Leo? Because you’re gorgeous, and if you’re not, you should be.”

Leo’s cheeks burned pink at my comment. He ducked his chin, shaking his head. “Not a model. Not even close.”

I could tell he was uncomfortable with my bluntness. I released him and stepped back. Bruises notwithstanding, he was something to behold. A warm tingle surged under my skin at the sight of him, and it took everything I had to keep my eyes from drifting places they shouldn’t.

Stunning. He was absolutely stunning.

I cleared my throat and grabbed the cargos I’d handed him earlier. “Here. Put these on. Make sure they fit.”

He accepted them with a wary smile and turned back to the mirror.

Ten minutes later, we had two fully layered outfits, extra hoodies, an all-weather jacket, and a functional pair of boots. We needed gloves, a hat, and a balaclava or bandana to cover his face.

Leo stayed dressed in one of the outfits. I tore the price tags off and collected them in a pile for the cashier to ring through. The rest of the clothes I piled in Leo’s arms, keeping my joggers separate so I could return them to my rucksack.

When I grabbed the stack of clothing he’d worn into the store, Leo shouted, dropped everything I’d given him, and snatched them from my hands. Raw panic filled his eyes and drained the color from his face. “No!”

I held my hands up. “Whoa. Calm down. I was just going to carry them for you.”

“They’re garbage. I’ll throw them away.”

The look on his face warned me not to argue.

Leo hugged his old clothes to his chest. I collected the ones he’d dropped on the floor.

At the counter where the man held my rucksack, Leo asked if there was a garbage where he could get rid of his old clothing. The man gave him an odd look but pointed out a bin nearby. Leo raced toward it like a squirrel in a frenzy.

He glanced back, scanning the store once before shoving his clothing—wool peacoat and all—as deep into the bin as he could get them.

I wasn’t a fashion expert, but I had the feeling that coat cost more than I’d made all year. His oxfords followed. Again, I guessed the price tag on those leather shoes was steep. Leo didn’t flinch. For the hundredth time since we’d met, I wondered what his story was. Why was some rich kid more interested in taking to the rails than reporting to the police? Someone had messed him up. Where was that person?

We spent less time at the outdoor shop. Leo was quiet as I collected everything he required and tossed it into a basket. “Not to be nosy, but what’s our budget look like?”

He’d already spent money on lunch and close to a hundred bucks at the thrift store—and that was after padding my pocket with five hundred before we left Montreal. There was another five promised when we got to wherever we were going.

If his cash was low, we could eliminate certain items, condense his gear.

“I have enough.”

He wouldn’t look at me, so I shrugged and kept going, wondering what enough meant.

“Are you opposed to sharing my tent? It’s only a single man, and it would be squishy, but it seems dumb to buy one if you’re only going to use it a few times.”

“A tent? Um… sure.”

Was he expecting a five-star hotel?

“The sleeping bag is a must. It gets too cold to go without. You saw that last night.”

He nodded as I picked a proper bag from the shelf, one intended for cold weather but also light in weight so it wouldn’t weigh him down.

While I pondered headlamps, I caught Leo picking his nails and wiping his hands on his pant legs, a deep furrow in his brow. He’d washed his hands twice at McDonald’s, but he didn’t seem any more satisfied with their cleanliness. When he noticed me watching, he jammed his hands into his pockets and focused on the ground.

By the time we left the outdoor shop, I set about turning Leo into a proper freight hopper. We commandeered a patch of sidewalk and spent the following ten minutes filling a new rucksack and discarding the shopping bags into a nearby wastebasket. When he lifted the pack to his shoulders, he grunted and swayed on his feet.

“Holy crap. It’s heavy.”

“And we haven’t added food yet. You’ll need to compensate for the shift in your balance. Will you be able to do it?”

It had been one of my concerns before I knew he was littered in painful bruises.

He adjusted the weight on his shoulders and nodded, but he didn’t seem so sure. “Yes. I think so. I’ll figure it out.”

“Let me know if you need more Tylenol. I have lots.”

The wariness I was becoming familiar with returned. “Thank you. Could we… Would it be all right if we didn’t tell the others about…”

Leo didn’t finish the sentence, but I was fairly certain he was referring to the multitude of injuries hiding under his clothes.

“No problem. Between us.”

“Thank you. And my name—”

“Is Green as far as they’re concerned.” I grinned and untucked Leo’s hood where it had gotten caught in the pack. “You look like a regular rail rider.”

He glanced down at himself, a soft smile touching his lips. “Do I?”

Unable to help myself, I took his face and lifted his head to meet my gaze. His skin had warmed with time inside. A faint bit of scruff speckled his chin. Not a lot. I got the feeling he was like me and struggled to grow anything resembling a beard.

“You’re one of us now. The past is the past. Don’t look back. Keep looking forward. I’ll teach you everything I know. We’ll ride together until the end of the line, okay?”

Leo’s lips parted as he stared at me with a flicker of wonder shimmering in his irises. My heart pitter-pattered, and for a brief moment, my gaze slipped to his mouth—his perfect, full coral lips. Leo’s cheeks colored with the attention, but he didn’t pull away, and I wondered…

I wondered if…

A horn blared at an intersection a block away, and we jolted apart.

A man stuck his head out a car window, fist shaking as he yelled at a guy on a bicycle who’d woven in front of him. It wasn’t English or French—the only two languages I was proficient in—so I didn’t catch what he said.

The moment—whatever it had been—was lost. When I glanced back at Leo, his attention was on a stray dog across the street that was eating from an abandoned Styrofoam takeout container. The busy and bustling city surrounded me once again.

I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was close to four. “Why don’t we hit up a grocery store and grab a few food items for you? Then we can make our way to the meet-up location. We’ll find a secluded spot out of sight and sleep some. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

I expected Leo to wrinkle his nose at the suggestion of sleeping on the ground, but he nodded absently, his mind far away.

At the grocery store, I helped Leo pick a few appropriate snacks. We wandered the aisles, Leo’s gaze flipping every which way. He seemed mesmerized. It was weird. Who was mesmerized by a grocery store?

At the checkout counter, his face exploded into a wide grin when he saw the massive display of candy. He added six packs of Jolly Ranchers to the conveyor belt and sized up the other choices before I touched his arm with a laugh. “Easy there. Remember, we can replenish supplies in the next city.”

We added the few items to his pack. Leo kept two packages of Jolly Ranchers in his pocket, unwrapping one and sticking it in his mouth before we headed down the road.

“Want one? They’re sour cherry.”

“I’m okay.”

“Would it be inappropriate to buy a proper meal to share around? Takeout or something from a restaurant? I want to thank your friends for letting me tag along. I know I’m an inconvenience, and they don’t like me much.”

“They don’t hate you, Leo.” I chuckled. “But they will like you even more if you buy them food.”

He smiled a real smile and hitched his pack higher on his shoulders. “Then let’s do it.”

It was strange. Everything we did seemed new to Leo, from clothes shopping to eating at McDonald’s to pushing a cart in the grocery store. It made me wonder what kind of life he’d left behind.

We stopped at an upscale pub where he ordered an assortment of deep-fried delights, chicken wings, and three signature pasta dishes. When he asked if we should get liquor or beer, I explained it was a major faux pas that inexperienced riders tended to make. The last thing we wanted was to be drunk or high when hopping a train. That led to disaster or death.

Leo’s eyes bugged wide, and he apologized no less than ten times while we hiked to a nearby bus stop. We had a solid half dozen miles to travel to get to the spot beyond the train yard where we would catch out, and I could tell Leo was in agony, even though he wasn’t saying so.

Leo was enthralled with the experience. I didn’t have to ask to know it was his first time on a city bus.

We arrived at the meet-up location around six. It was nothing more than a dense area of bushes and trees that ran along a ditch about fifteen yards from the tracks. It was a good half mile outside the train yard and behind a section of ten-foot-high fencing—one without razor wire, thank goodness.

We were out of sight from every angle, so it was a good place to hunker down and rest before leaving. I unclipped my sleeping bag from my rucksack and rolled it out. “Might as well get comfortable. We have a lot of time to kill. Sleep if you can. Our next stint on the train will be about thirty-five hours or so. It will feel long, especially for you since you haven’t done this before.”

Leo watched and copied my actions, flicking his new sleeping bag out alongside mine in the packed dirt under a small tree with low-hanging branches. It wasn’t too cold, so I lay on top of my bag, arms cradled behind my head. Leo lay beside me, knees up and falling together. It was a quiet spot. In the distance was the steady clanging of train cars coupling. There were birds singing from somewhere high above. The air was about as crisp and clear as it got. The takeout food wafted delicious smells, and my stomach growled, but we’d decided to wait for the others before eating.

“How long have you been doing this?” Leo tilted his head toward me.

“About nine years. Since I was sixteen.”

“Wow. That’s a long time.”

“Long enough.”

Leo rolled to his side and propped his head on an upturned palm. “Where do you call home?”

I grinned and met his gaze. “You’re breaking the code, boy.”

Uncertainty crossed his face. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

I chuckled. “It’s cool. Us rail riders are kind of our own community. Our own family. We have rules we adhere to. One of the main rules is to never pry into another person’s life.”

“But you asked me about mine.”

“True. But you’ll notice, when you didn’t want to share, I didn’t push.”

He considered that, staring at the ground between us. There were only a few inches separating our bags. “I didn’t know. I won’t ask again.”

I rolled to my side, matching his posture. “Here’s the thing. I don’t mind telling you. I’m from Halifax originally.”

Leo’s forehead scrunched. “Nova Scotia, correct?”

“Yep. Born and raised. My parents didn’t take it well when I told them I was gay, so I left.”

Leo lifted his gaze, and a world of understanding stared back at me. He didn’t express his sympathy for my situation like most might, but he didn’t have to. I read it in his eyes. There was a knowing pain.

For the second time, I wondered…

“Have you been… What did you call it? Rail riding? Have you been rail riding ever since?”

God, he was too cute.

“On and off, yes. It’s how I travel.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Wherever the wind takes me. Wherever my feet land. Everywhere. Nowhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t put down roots. I move coast to coast across North America. I know people all over the place. Some of those people let me work for cash. Some let me crash on their couch if I need a place to stay short-term. I head south in the winter and come north in the summer. If I get restless, I catch out and hope I feel better when the train stops.”

“That’s incredible. But why not find a place to stay and work to sustain yourself?”

I chuckled. “I’d go crazy. Freedom is addictive. It’s hard to go back to a sedentary life after you’ve had a taste of another.”

Something passed in Leo’s eyes. Sadness? Despair? Loneliness? I wanted to ask him about it, but I’d pushed hard enough. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.

“Did you finish school?”

“Nope. High school drop-out. I bet you did. You seem pretty smart.”

Leo pressed his lips together and studied the ground a moment before shrugging. “Yes.”

“University?”

He nodded but didn’t elaborate. It was like everything else. He wasn’t willing to share.

“How many languages do you speak?” I asked, figuring it was a less invasive question.

He didn’t hesitate. “Five. Well, six-ish. My Mandarin isn’t perfect.”

“Jesus, six languages? What ones?”

He took a long minute to consider his answer. Maybe he saw through my question. One of the languages would give me an idea of where he might be from.

He met my eyes before looking down at the ground again. “I’m proficient in English, obviously, French, Spanish, Russian, and German.”

It was impossible not to gape. “That’s amazing. I can manage English and French fluently, but that’s it.”

“It was a requirement,” he mumbled, not looking up.

The urge to press for more information was almost too strong to resist. What kind of life did you live before this? Why are you running? Who are you, Leo? What happened to you?

I asked none of them, even when they burned on the end of my tongue.

“How about you lie down and try to sleep some? The others will probably show up around dusk, and if you don’t sleep now, you’ll miss your chance. We can fill our faces once they arrive and be ready for our train. I’ll go over some basics with you then.”

Leo rolled to his stomach and laid his head down in his folded arms, still keeping his eye on me. I moved onto my back and stared at the branches overhead. The sun dappled my face where it peeked through the colorful fall leaves.

I thought of home for the first time in a long time, an old ache resurfacing. It didn’t bother me as much anymore. Too many years had passed. But every now and again, a familiar dull pain radiated through my chest. There was a reason Montreal was the end of the line for me when I traveled east. When I’d left Nova Scotia, I’d sworn never to return.

And I never had.

I checked on Leo a few times. He seemed insistent on staying awake, but it was a losing battle. In time, his lids fell, his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. When I was sure he was asleep, I rolled back onto my side and watched him. He was close to my age, but we were worlds apart. I thought of the bruises covering his body, the blood on his face, and the lie on his tongue when I’d asked what had happened.

Maybe he didn’t belong on this side of the tracks, but I had to give him credit. He was determined to make it work.

I napped off and on over the following few hours. Leo crashed hard, soft snores passing through his parted lips as he breathed. The poor guy must have been running on steam. A few times, whimpers and unintelligible words passed through his lips. He threw his head side to side with the makings of a bad dream. Then he settled again.

Twice I got up and wandered to the fencing a few yards away, studying our location and getting a better feel for the land. I’d caught out in this spot before. It would be a good place for Leo to learn the ropes. The freight we wanted to be on should stop at the yard, which meant we wouldn’t be catching on the fly. We could spend a minute and find a good spot to hunker down. Ideally, if we could snag a boxcar or a stacker with a door that opened, we’d be set. We’d have protection from wind and rain. Also, the bulls would be less likely to catch us.

I took a leak by the fence before returning to our spot. Movement in the distant trees called my attention, and I crouched low, peering into the grove. Someone was approaching. I stayed quiet until Willow pushed her way through the brush.

She took one look at Leo and rolled her eyes. “Asleep like a baby. How’s Green doing?” She kept her voice low and moved toward my sleeping bag. Plunking her pack on the ground, she sat beside me.

“He’s geared and set to go. Be nice. He bought us all dinner.” I gestured to the brown takeout bags we’d set aside. “A feast for a king.”

“Nice.”

“He’s not a bad person, chica. There’s a story there. A bad one, and I think we need to cut him some slack.”

Willow studied me for a second then tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Killer…” Her voice ended with a knowing inflection. “What’s going on? Why do you have a stupid look on your face?”

I waved the comment off. “Whatever. I do not. I’m just saying. Be nice. He’s had a rough go.”

“Yeah, whatever. We’re talking about your face right now.” She caught my chin, holding my head stationary as she squinted and studied me. “Why do you look like that? What is it? Tell me.” She almost grinned, which was annoying because Willow would rather glare than smile at anyone—even me—and we were pretty close.

I batted her hand away, glanced at Leo, then buried my face in my palms when my cheeks blazed with heat. I hated that it was so obvious. “It’s bad, okay. Bad, bad, bad.”

“Oh boy. Here we go. Bad like what bad?” She nudged my knee, but I could tell by her tone she had already guessed and was having a wonderful time teasing it out of me.

I glanced at Leo once more to ensure he was still asleep. Sighing, I lowered my voice. “I may have accidentally developed a teeny tiny crush on the new guy.”

Willow snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I didn’t mean to.”

“I knew it. I freaking knew it. I saw it when you were mending his hands on the train. You get this look on your face, Killer.”

“I do not. Shut up. I hope you know you’re smiling right now, and I will never let you live it down.”

She shook her head, not even trying to hide her grin. “Nah, this isn’t about me. This is about your face.”

“My face is boring and dull. It tells you nothing.”

“Oh, you poor misguided child.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Is he even—” She waved a hand. “You know.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We come from two different worlds. Besides, I have a feeling once I get him far enough away from Montreal, he’s going to split.”

Willow patted my cheek. It was condescending but exactly what I expected from her. “Poor baby. Can you keep it in your pants for a couple weeks? Resist the urge to freak out the greenhorn, even if it’s hard. Contrary to what you believe, you do not have a magical dick all boys want to ride.”

“I hate you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

“I don’t have a choice. But seriously, look at that face. It should be a sin to be that gorgeous. He’s, like, an angel.”

Willow groaned and glanced at Leo. “I guess if you like them rich and privileged.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you know his story?”

“No. And I’m not pushing, but I get the feeling he’s been through a lot.” I thought of the bruises marring his milky white skin. The haunted look in his eyes when I’d asked about them and he’d told me flat out he couldn’t share.

Willow took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s a good thing we found him then.”

I sighed and stared at our sleeping companion. I’d get Leo wherever he wanted to go. If he chose to leave after that, so be it. Whatever life he found for himself had to be better than the one he’d left behind.

“How’s Billie?” I asked, needing to change the subject.

“Going through a rough time. Figuring shit out or trying to. One of these days, I’ll convince her to come with me.”

“Are you two—”

Willow held her hands in a T. “Code. No more.” She implored with her eyes.

I nodded and zipped my lips. None of my business.

Willow lay across my sleeping bag with her head in my lap. I rubbed my fingers against the shorn patch of hair on the side of her head as I admired the stainless-steel jewelry surrounding her ear. Before long, she was out cold.