by Dan McNeill
Chapter 5
Raymond's head was pounding as he led Salome across the street to the old train station in downtown Lake Geneva. It was the same kind of deep headache he'd get when he'd wake from his nightmares. Of course Raymond never dreamed. But nightmares was the only name he had for the Wonderland-like state he withdrew into when the howls from across the lake would blow. Being so close to that sound when the men on horseback appeared left a residual effect much worse than the blow to the skull he suffered when Salome tackled him.
The train was parked on the tracks. But it wasn’t just any train. This was like a gigantic version of the black locomotive that used to circle around the train set in their Grandpa Lou’s basement. Steam curled out from the locomotive’s smokestack near its front. The steel side rods connecting the giant silver wheels were splattered with grease and mud but enough of them were visible to shine back a reflection of the rising moon. Behind the locomotive was a coal car. On its side, in fading white lettering, was “SANTA FE”.
Behind that coal car however, nothing made any sense. No sense at all. Hiding along the side of an old minivan sitting in the weed-filled parking lot in front of the station, Raymond looked out in horror.
Behind the coal car stood connected a line of freight cars that looked endless. Drones with rifles raised guarded the cars. Muscular work-hands dressed in ragged clothes, their heads covered in black ski masks, were loading pallets stacked with crates. Behind them, in cars further down the line, more drones were supervising the loading of animals, horses, cattle and other livestock. Behind this line, the freight cars seemed to appear older, like a book that was read too much. It was these cars that held the cargo the Chosen cared about the least.
Scores of drones and men in white robes were leading masses of disheveled passengers on board. As best as Raymond could tell, all of them had Down syndrome.
Raymond could also make out a variety of quite unsettling sounds - screams, barking dogs, punches – accompanied by gunshots and more screams. There were more than fifteen freight cars, with people being forced onto each one.
Raymond’s eyes were drawn now to a portly man dressed in red sweat pants and a Wisconsin Dells sweatshirt. He was smiling, carrying a sleeping bag as if he were going to a slumber party.
Raymond turned away. “The people,” he said. “So many people.”
Salome stared ahead, her dark eyes fixated on the hordes of people being led on by gunpoint. “Yep. That train goes all the way past Chicago and on up to Canada I hear.”
Salome must have sensed the disgust in his voice and grasped his hand. It was a soothing grasp, holding him tight as her pinky caressed his inner palm.
But it only lasted a few seconds. As the drones began systematically closing the freight car doors, she dropped to her haunches while one of the Chosen guards signaled the conductor.
“What happens to them?” Raymond asked, squatting besides her. A horn blew and the train began to belch more gray smoke.
"You'll find out all too soon," Salome said ominously. Staying hidden behind the weed-choked cars in the parking lot, Salome rose slightly and began running in a crouch.
"Follow me! Quick now!"
The whistle on top of the train clanged and steam began to gush from its stack. Slowly, the side rods began to churn and the ancient locomotive started lumbering forward. One-by-one, the freight cars began to creak along behind it. With the cars secure, the drones retreated into a guardhouse setup near the station. Peeking around quickly, Salome made a run for the last rail car. “Move! This is our only shot! Let’s go!”
Bolting forward, Salome stepped onto the metal footing of the rusted out boxcar. Grabbing hold of the door latch, she swiftly lifted herself up. With her other free hand, she unlatched the door to the freight car and slid it open.
“It's empty!” she shouted to Raymond. "Get in!"
Sniffing first, Rowdy was the first to leap in. The cars were starting to pick up speed.
“OK,” she said, pointing at Raymond, “you next.”
The train was moving quickly now. But Raymond was faster. Throwing Remmy into the freight car to buy him some speed, he grabbed hold of Salome’s hand.
But something else had seized Raymond from behind. Something that smelled like road kill left out in the summer sun. By now, Raymond knew what it had to be.
Startled, Salome momentarily released her grip and Raymond tumbled back onto the gravel, the tumored hands of the moaning rager holding firm. As they continued to roll into the dark underbrush, Raymond could hear Rowdy howling from the car as it moved away.
Raymond and the creature thudded against the base of a tree at the bottom of the hill and the muscled rager released his grasp. Raymond, his head pounding from the fall, shot up and stared blindly into the night. He could see nothing. The sound of the train seemed to be getting farther away.
Taking a calculated step back towards the hill they just tumbled from, Raymond was met with the shrill scream of a banshee as the rager's clawed hands pounced on Raymond from behind, wrestling him to the ground. With Raymond pinned on his back, the rager firmly clasped its gnarled hands around Raymond’s throat and began pressing in. Staring down at Raymond with blood red eyes, it grunted something and laughed as it tightened its grasp around Raymond’s neck. Raymond’s vision began to get cloudy and his thoughts began to drift back to Po and the giggly book and nights around the campfire. Thoughts of his brother gave Raymond hope as the clicking sound from the freight train's wheels trailed away into the night.
And hope arrived. Looking up, a bolt of golden lightning, Rowdy, his teeth bared, leapt onto the rager’s back. Sinking his sharp teeth into the tumors lining the creature’s neck, it howled obscenely, releasing its grasp on Raymond.
Raymond rolled away, trying to catch his breath while Rowdy chased the creature away. Looking down the tracks, Raymond could still see the last car of the freight train. There still might be time to catch it.
“Rowdy!” Raymond yelled. “Let’s go boy!”
They both ran, shooting off across the rocky ground alongside the tracks. Charging forward with only the light of the moon to guide them, Raymond did his best to keep his footing. While the train was picking up speed, so were they.
Salome saw them, excitedly extending her hand to Raymond. Grasping it firmly, she pulled Raymond aboard the train in one fell swoop.
Raymond immediately turned back towards the open car door to help Rowdy.
“Jump boy!” he yelled.
Rowdy kept running, and with a mighty thrust of his back legs, hurtled himself towards the open door, missing by just inches. He hit the ground at an angle but almost immediately was back running. Moving relentlessly towards them, his legs, like the steel side rods of the powerful locomotive, were a blur of light.
Raymond dropped down onto his stomach and leaned forward, stretching both of his arms out the freight car door. “Come on boy!” he shouted. He hoped the dog didn’t catch the tinge of panic in his voice. He knew that Rowdy was sensitive to such things.
Rowdy was close enough to them now that Raymond could see his jowls bouncing, his legs moving with purpose to reach his master. Once again, he leaped forward, this time, so high that Raymond was able to grab hold of his collar.
“Gotcha boy!” Raymond exclaimed. Salome was behind them, clapping her hands.
He looked down at Rowdy, who Raymond was still struggling to get into the car, which was now moving at full speed. Like Po used to always tell him, Rowdy was most definitely smiling. Holding the old leather collar firmly, he gave Rowdy a final strong yank towards him.
And he was gone. Raymond stared dumbfounded at his hands, which held only half the collar. Worn and weathered, the old collar had torn in two. Rowdy had tumbled backwards landing hard on his side. He appeared motionless, a tiny diminishing blur of moonlit gray as the train pulled rapidly away.
“No!” Raymond got up from his stomach holding back tears, scream
ing. Confused. So confused. The train kept moving, the moon blinking between the slits of the wooden planks. He turned around and ran towards the open door of the rail car as Salome’s cold hands grabbed him by the shoulders.
“It’s too late!” she shouted. “No time!”
“Get out of my way!” Raymond yelled back. “I’m going after him!”
“No you ain’t! There're Ragers out there! Screechers! More drones! A whole mess of shit that will just whack you hombre! You understand?” Salome looked furious.
Raymond tried to break free, struggled and fell back. It was useless. Salome held him tight for a few more seconds before letting him go. She closed the rail car door and gave Raymond some space.
In the darkness, Raymond wiped away tears and crouched in the corner of the freight car. Anger, brutal anger. At Salome, at the Rager. Maybe even a little at Po. He thought about Rowdy, hurt and alone in a wilderness of wild beasts and mechanical monsters. He only hoped that Rowdy was able to recover while he still had a fighting chance.
But it didn't matter. The clicks from the train wheels grinding over the rusty tracks caused him to feel anxious and alone. But the repetition centered him. It wasn't a peace though. Not in this place. Raymond's only constant was his anger. He knew he needed to keep that anger stockpiled. Keep it ready. Ready for a destination he knew nothing about. Ready for a fight.
After many long minutes, Raymond felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to it.
“It's ok Raymond,” Salome gently whispered. “It wasn't your fault you know.”
“Sure it was,” Raymond replied coldly. He'd forgotten he wasn't alone. He rubbed his eyes and continued to stare into the darkness as he hunched over into the corner.
“I don't mean the dog. I mean everything.”
Raymond remained still while the train continued along. Through the narrow slits between the wooden planks, he could occasionally make out some piece of scenery. He wondered just where they were right now. Wherever it was, it was far from Lake Como. Far from the quiet of the lakeshore, the tranquility of staring up at the stars with Po, the peace of listening to one of his stories. He missed that blessing. That blessing that meant things would stay the same. That they wouldn't go back to the emptiness of the past. But Raymond knew that blessings really were. Blessings were bullshit.
"So, it's Christmas time in post-Rap Chicago," Salome says. Me and the Jake-Man are out trying to find a present for someone. Some young kid that started tagging around with us." She laughed, shaking her head just enough to make Raymond know all she really wanted to do was cry. She put her hand on Raymond's knee. He didn't care enough to push it away.
"The kid was maybe seven or eight," she continued. "A real wild one. Probably alone since the Rap. When we found him at that factory outside of Melrose Park, he was living on chocolate chips and Doritos. But the little shit knew the terrain. Found us a place to hide when we were ambushed by a drone squadron. The Prophet called him a blessing."
"There's no such thing as blessings," Raymond grumbled.
"What-ev's," Salome said. "The little shit became out mascot. Our good luck charm. So that's who me and Jake were out trying to find a present for."
Raymond shook his head.
"Me and Jake, we're up on State Street!" she laughed again. "Man, nothing like how it used to be back in the day, right? Not a sign of any rich bitches from the burbs, you know? Outside of wolves and the occasional bandit, me and Jake, we had all the stores to ourselves. The Chosen hadn't taken Chicago yet, you know. But they were close."
Raymond continued to squint out at the moonlit landscape, finding solace in the desolation. But not everything was so desolate.
"So we find a big ass panda bear. Seriously, this thing had to be bigger than me. The little shit, he likes stuffed animals, you know? In the warehouse where he was holed up he had a whole mess of them. They were like his little plush protectors. So like we take the big ass panda. Figure that'll be the kid's Christmas."
Raymond thought he saw what could have been lights and people passing in the streets. Salome was crying.
"We get back to the camp and everything's just red," she sighed, rubbing her face. "The little shit, he's gone. But not gone, you know. Not gone. Just blown away. A big fucking chunk of his chest just blown away."
She started crying now, hard. Raymond put his arms around her, wrapping them tight as the train passed over a bridge. She was shaking.
"Jake's freaking out, running around the camp. There were more of us then. Me, Jake, my brother Jose. A few others. Jake's trying to find the Prophet. Me, I'm there trying to bandage up the kid. Trying to bandage up blown out fucking intestines knowing fully well that the little shit's dead. I mean how stupid!"
Raymond held her tight. "I'm sorry," he said to her.
Salome leaned into Raymond, laying her head on his chest.
"So a few minutes later, Jake comes back. The Prophet's hurt, but not dead. The others though. All of them. All gone. Everyone was trying to save the little shit. I mean of course they were, right? He was a child! A kid, man! You don't see kids no more! They had to try to save him!"
"Of course they did," Raymond said slowly. He closed his eyes. “So nothing's changed then,” Raymond said matter-of-factly. Without knowing why he found himself soothingly rubbing his fingers through Salome's hair. She looked like she needed it. Contact.
"Yes?" she said to him.
“The children...”
Salome frowned for a moment, looking down at the splintered floor of the old freight car. In the darkness, she looked up at him with a look that could have been a smile. “You know what the Prophet told me Ray? Do you know what he told me when I was burying what was left of the little shit? God's holding all the children until we're ready for them again.”
"So the virus," Raymond said softly. "It's still out there."
"Course it is Raymond. It's everywhere. Barren. No one can have kids."
"So what's the point then?"
"The point is Raymond, we can bring it all back. We just need to find the 19. That's what the Prophet believes. And that's what I believe."
Raymond let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "Fuck, you know, I just can't..."
"What?" Salome snapped.
"Process this!" Raymond yelled, punching his fist against the side of the freight car.
"Well process this, hombre. Your brother Po? He's in danger. No matter how big Po became after the transformation..."
"The what?" Raymond interrupted.
"The transformation! You know? People with Down syndrome, they all survived the Rap, right. But most of them beefed up like pro-wrestlers. Why do you think the Chosen call them mules?"
"So that's why Po got so big? It was part of the Rap?"
"Yeah, a nice little side benefit, eh?"
Raymond looked to the ground, his mouth agape. "All this time I thought I was feeding him funny or something."
Salome shook her head, letting out a sigh. "This one's not your fault either Ray." Placing her hand on Raymond's shoulder, she stood up, carefully sliding open the door of the freight car a tad to let in a sliver of moonlight. She glanced outside for a moment. Leaving the door open a crack, she sat back down next to Raymond.
"Not much longer now," she said softly. She said it in a way that made Raymond think she was ready. Like she was always ready for things to go wrong because they always did.
“So Po," she said as she took a seat back next to him. She spread her legs out along the splintery boxcar floor and leaned in close to Raymond. "That’s an interesting name. What is it? Like Welsh or something?”
"Welsh?' he said back with a laugh. "Nah, Po's not his real name. His real name is Peter. Po's just what everyone used to call him. Came from our Grandpa Frank. Used to call him Topo, after some puppet mouse that gramps used to watch on TV when he was a kid – you know, because he was as quiet as a mouse I guess. Anyway, when Po
was like six, his kindergarten teacher asked him to tell the class his name and he apparently yelled out, 'Po'. Those were the first words he spoke and it stuck. No one’s ever called him anything different.”
Raymond looked at her from the side while she continued to stare intently at him. Her eyes wouldn't let him go.
"It's been a while since I had to trust someone," Raymond said. "But just so you know, I trust you. And that doesn't come easy for me. Don't let me down."
"I won't," she said, turning around now to check the supplies in her bag. "Trust doesn't really come easy for me either." She turned to him and smiled, putting her hand on Raymond's knee.
"Before the Rap, my life was..." She stopped now, shaking her head. "Well it was no Lake Como, that's for sure."
Salome stopped and smiled, her dark brown eyes taking Raymond in. "But the Prophet, he told me different Raymond. He trusted me. Trusted me despite all my shortcomings and past transgressions. It's a new world he'd tell me and all of that shit from before is just plain washed away. He gave me hope Ray. And he told me about the 19."
"Tell me about them," Raymond said.
Salome laughed. "Really?"
"Sure," Raymond replied. "Why not."
Salome took the daisy out from behind her ear. Leaning closer to Raymond, she gently drew the daisy's soft white petals lightly across his cheek. The daisy's caress gave Raymond goosebumps and he looked back at Salome with a wide grin. Salome smiled back, holding the daisy to the sliver of moonlight before letting it go to the wind gusting through the cracks.
"That's the 19 Raymond," she said.
"What is? A tickle?"
"No Ray, a fleeting moment of bliss in a world that doesn't give you any reason to expect it."
She pulled her arms inside the sleeves of her camouflage hoodie and crossed them, resting her head on Raymond's chest.
"Fleeting," she said softly. "In the months after the Rap, when us survivors sat shivering alone, wondering when it was our turn...In those times," she continued as if trying to remember a dream, "the 19 made themselves known."
Salome put her arms back into her sleeves, pushing out her hands and placing them on Raymond's arm.
"Fleeting," she repeated. "I have trouble remembering them, it was so long ago. But it happened. They happened."
"What happened?" Raymond said, trying to be respectful.
"Spectacular stories. All over the place, when we started coming out into the light again, you'd hear stories. Everyone seemed to have a story about the 19 heroes."
"Did you?"
Salome paused for a few seconds as the train rumbled across a rough section of track. She nodded her head.
"Fire. Raging fire and smoke all around me. I was in my foster mom's house. I'm alone. All alone and had been for awhile now. I'm too tired to run and even if I could, there was no where to run to. I don't even want to run."
Raymond reached over and put his arm around her back.
"Then, the weirdest thing happened," she said. She started to cry. "I wake up outside and there's someone with me."
"These 19?"
Salome shook her head. "No. It's my brother Jose."
"So he saved you from the fire?"
Again Salome paused. She shook her head. "He couldn't of. There wasn't a burn mark on him..."
"So, maybe he just was quick."
"Well handsome, he'd had to have been Speedy Gonzales to have pulled that off. Jose was in Puerto Rico when the Rap hit."
"What?"
"Visiting my Aunt and Uncle. I figured he was dead like everyone else. Even if he wasn't dead, how in the hell was he gonna make it back to Chicago, right?"
"How did he then?"
Salome looked up at him, shrugging her shoulders as if to concede she didn't know all the answers. "He just did Ray. The one second, he's alone on a beach, the next, he's in our front yard. Me, I'm starving in a pit of fire. Then I'm saved. At the time, we were both terrified. We just didn't know. We felt their presence though. Yep, we both did. Our minds were too terrified still to let them in. It wasn't until we started venturing out, meeting others. Joining up with the Prophet. It wasn't until then that we learned it was the 19."
"So you're calling it a miracle," Raymond said.
"I grew up a gang banger from Pilsen, Ray. For me, a miracle was a weekend without someone you know getting stabbed or shot in the head. The 19 were no miracle Raymond. Now, the Prophet has his theories about the 19. How they came to be and all. But for me and Jose, it didn't matter. All we knew was that we were part of their plan and it was a good one."
"What then?" Raymond asked. "If these 19 could do all you claim, why are we still in the mess we're in? Why's my brother still gone?"
"I don't know Ray," she said, looking away. "About the time the Elected appeared, the stories of the 19, they stopped. No more sightings. Fleeting. Like everything else, fleeting."
"Sounds like your new gods are pretty selective," Raymond shrugged. "But I'm sorry you lost your brother."
"And I'm sorry about yours Raymond," she said. Slowly, she crawled up onto his lap. "I know you're your brother's hero Ray," Salome said to him. "Can you be mine too?" She leaned in, closed her eyes...
Raymond felt the small of her back arching. Gently, he rolled her over to her side. It was something he didn't think he'd ever feel again. Sure, back in high school, he was a player. At least he thought he was. But that was easy. So easy. And the women back then? They were just as stupid and carefree as he was. Kids playing grown-up in a pop culture world.
But Salome was no kid. With the jet black hair that fell along her bronze cheeks. Those eyes. Those dark eyes that saw life and death. This one was a woman. And she wanted him more than anything.
Undressing, Raymond could hear the train's wheels clicking over the tracks. She ran her hands over his arms and over his chest and brought him inside of her.
Raymond felt a different kind of Wonderland now. He was gone, for sure. But here. There. He felt her. He consumed her. Took her in. It was fleeting too. Not the act, of course. No, Ray knew how to keep it going. But the love. The simple knowledge that there was a connection there that meant something. Raymond felt it. He wondered if she did? It didn't matter in either case. Raymond would soon be gone. And he would never see this one again.
The train's horn let out a blow and Salome screamed out. She gave Raymond a peck on his bare chest, stood up and began to get dressed.