by Brad Cook
With all that in mind, he still couldn’t correctly produce it on paper. Bob Ross could create a mind-blowing picturesque landscape in just a half hour, and Leroy couldn’t even get a simple logo right. What hope could he have of ever creating a legitimate work of art?
“What are you working on?”
Leroy hadn’t noticed Ant’s face peering around the metal divider. He stuffed the pad of paper back in his backpack and said “Nothing.”
“Hm… Okay,” Ant said. “Are your ears popping from the elevation?”
“That what it is? Thought I was getting an ear infection.” Leroy wriggled his finger inside his ear as he opened and closed his jaw. He didn’t know why he was embarrassed for Ant to see him working, but he was. He justified it as simply wanting privacy.
“The skyline has changed over the years, but it still feels the same,” Ant sighed. “Lucky for us there were no stops overnight. We made fantastic time, and got a good night of sleep, to boot.”
Leroy craned his head toward the front of the train and saw fog-obscured buildings, irregular like jack-o-lantern teeth, against a mountainous backdrop. He considered how similar many of the large Western cities he’d seen looked. There were insignificant differences in the design and size of the buildings in each city, but overall they looked the same. Must be a reason, he concluded, disappointed. A city could be so much more. He knew it.
Turning back to Ant, Leroy said “You been here? Where are we?”
“We are outside Denver. I was awarded my Ph.D. here.”
“Hope you don’t plan on staying long,” Leroy chanced.
“No,” Ant responded, settling back, “that is a trip for another time. I am curious to know what you plan to do once we stop, though.”
Leroy cursed himself for not having considered the question. Planning the next move was essential, but so was planning beyond. He had to work on that. “You sure we’re gonna stop?” he asked with timid hope.
“Positive. It is illegal for a crew member to work for more than twelve hours, which is why crew changes are necessary. I would guess we have been riding at least ten hours, and given that we are under an hour away from Denver Union Station, a stop is inevitable.”
“So lame. Computers can look people up across the country but they can’t run a train on a track.” As soon as he said it he realized he’d broken his vow not to complain. That was fast. He had to try harder.
“I have unique experience with Denver Union,” Ant said, a fond nostalgia shimmering in his eyes. “It was there I first caught out. I rode straight through to Sacramento. It was gorgeous, back then…“ He rubbed his scalp. “Of course, that was twenty years ago. It is a highly populated area, and the station is used more for passenger trains than freight these days. Those are bad conditions for persons illegally hitching a ride. I am of the mind that we should jump before we arrive.”
Once again, Leroy had to refrain from complaining. He needed to look for the positive, find a way to move forward. “We’ll be right outside the yard. Any chance we could hop a different train?”
“It is possible, I suppose,” Ant started, “but the risk is too great. We would arrive at incoming and have to cross the entire station. And any time passengers are involved, security is abundant.”
“It’s what?”
“There is too much of it.”
“Just tell me when we gotta jump,” Leroy uttered as he sat back against the warm iron, beyond ready for this trip to come to an end.
* * *
Ant and Leroy stared toward the front of the train, each on their own end of the platform. “Ready yourself,” Ant yelled, turning back to Leroy, the words echoing through the corridor of firs and cottonwoods. “Do not forget your bag. The boundary is quickly approaching.”
“I can see that,” Leroy replied, turning back to Ant.
“Come over to my side.”
Ant held his hand out but Leroy grasped a ladder instead and crossed the platform, the wind shoving him around like a gang of phantom bullies. The grass below blurred as it flowed past, crippling Leroy with apprehension.
“You sure we can’t just wait? Get off in the station?”
“Unless you would like to be shipped back to California, I am sure.”
The wind howled nearly as loud as the train’s horn. Waiting for the impending jump, Leroy started to suspect the train was speeding up. Leroy raised his voice and said “Shouldn’t it be slowing down?”
Ant glanced at the open gate the train advanced toward. “Brace yourself for a rough landing. Try to roll,” Ant urged over the commotion.
Leroy watched as the locomotive unit passed through the fence.
“Hold it,” Ant said with his hand up, tilting his head.
Leroy noticed it too—the hiss of air brakes. “‘Bout time.” A slight pressure slowed the train, but not enough for Leroy to feel safe. He watched three more train cars pass through the gate of the fence.
“Is there anything fragile in your bag? Any glass, or electronics?”
It wasn’t easy for Leroy to concentrate standing on the edge of a train rushing through the woods toward a well-guarded train station, but he managed to squeeze out an “I don’t think so.”
“On my word, we are going to toss our bags. Do not jump yet.”
Leroy nodded. He didn’t want to let his bag out of his sight, but if he had to roll, the backpack would definitely be in the way. Another two cars passed through the fence. Theirs was only fifteen or so away. “Should probably hurry up,” Leroy said, getting antsy.
“Not yet,” Ant said.
Leroy waited, watching anxiously as the fence hurried to meet them.
“What are we waiting for? It’s not gonna slow down, let’s go!”
“Not yet!”
Ten cars from the fence.
If the train was slowing down, Leroy couldn’t tell, but it might’ve been due to the adrenaline seeping its way into his bloodstream.
“This is crazy!” he shouted. “I’m getting off!”
Seven cars away.
“Bags, now!” Ant swung his rucksack over the ballast and onto the ground between the tracks and the trees. Leroy did the same.
Five cars away.
Leroy placed his foot onto the edge of the platform. “I’m jumping!”
“Wait!” Ant said.
Leroy had already shifted his weight and was pushing off the ledge when the brakes kicked in, jolting him off balance. His arms flailed as he toppled and landed awkwardly on his ankle, then felt a stiff pop as the rest of his weight came down. He collapsed and clutched his leg, gasping for breath. Nausea seized him, and his pulse throbbed in his head.
A moment later, Leroy heard a thud. He opened his eyes and glanced up as Ant successfully completed a somersault then staggered to gain his balance. Yet again he couldn’t live up to Ant. What a surprise. The train squealed to a protracted stop a few hundred feet inside the gate, which closed automatically. He felt like a fool, even through the stabbing pain.
Ant sat in the grass beside him.
“Don’t even—”
“I was not going to say anything,” Ant said, “but now I will. I understand why you jumped. It is instinctual, when you feel deep fear such as just then, to do irrational things in order to survive.”
“But it wasn’t even—”
“I know, the brakes tossed you off. It was not your fault.”
“Great, sarcasm,” Leroy said as he stretched out and tenderly rotated his ankle, wincing each time it hit a certain spot. “Mature.”
“That was sincere. What makes you think I would blame you for an injury?”
The only response he could think of was ‘I’m just used to it,’ but the embarrassment he’d endure upon the utterance was too much. He kept his mouth shut, and within a moment the full ache of his ankle flooded back to him.
“We can wait here as long as you need,” Ant assured him. “At least we know it is not broken, if you can move it like that.”
&
nbsp; That was a relief. His lifelong broken-bone-free streak remained intact. At the same time, the inconvenience of the situation was not lost on him; a sprained ankle might as well be handcuffs for a traveler.
“Would you like to try standing?”
“Gimme a minute,” Leroy said. He needed to recover mentally as much as physically. His thoughts were still muddled and the breathlessness hadn’t yet diminished. He slid his arm over his eyes and tried to relax.
“Take your time,” Ant said, favoring his lower back, until he became distracted by a scent and sniffed at the air with deep, full breaths. “I smell a fire. There is a jungle somewhere around here.”
“Could be campers.”
“Bedside rail service is not a preferred amenity on camping trips.”
Leroy cracked a begrudging smile, dampened by discomfort.
“We should rest there until you are ready to leave.”
“You just love the jungle, huh?”
“For someone such as myself who often has nowhere to sleep, a jungle is practical. I am not exactly a beggar, but rest assured I have been on the receiving end of many an insult and a great amount of ill will. For many, it is only in the jungle they may be treated with dignity. It is a sad sign of the times. It was not so long ago that hobos were seen as regular people like you or I.”
“It sounds like a great place, Ant, but how can I get there?” Leroy said, mocking the infomercial hosts he’d laughed at during nights of insomnia.
Ant chuckled, but didn’t respond.
“No, really, you gonna carry me if I can’t walk?”
“If that is what it takes, I will, indeed,” Ant said.
“That being the case, forget trying to walk. You can just carry me.”
Ant got to his feet, brushed his dark slacks off, then offered a hand to help Leroy up. This time, he had no choice but to take it.
* * *
“Maybe… that way?” Leroy pointed. He rode piggyback atop Ant’s shoulders, with the dual purpose of staying off his ankle and searching for the jungle. Mostly, he was getting whacked in the face by branches.
“Watch out!” he called down.
“Exactly how am I to avoid what I cannot see?” Ant grunted. “The onus is on you, my friend, to either avoid the obstructions or notify me of them.” He tip-toed around stones and roots and puddles.
They’d been wandering the woods for ten minutes and found nothing but the elusive odor of burnt leaves, a shattered TV, and a lot of poop. Leroy was beginning to think they were chasing a forest fire, miles off.
“If people don’t catch out here anymore, why’s there a jungle?”
“I said it would not be smart, not that people do not catch out at this location, although I must admit I had assumed as a result that nobody would bother to try. I suppose I was wrong.”
No grown-up had ever flat out admitted they were wrong to him. It was like finding out one of those Unsolved Mysteries was just a hoax.
Leroy scanned the wilderness. Patches of light spilled from the leafy canopy, making the ground shimmer like water. Under the tree cover, the day’s heat dampened, leaving Leroy almost cool, but for the renegade rays warming his skin. With the breeze, it was the fairest weather he’d felt for months.
Content atop Ant’s shoulders, Leroy basked in the zephyr until it died down, and a distant crackling tickled his eardrums. “Hear that?”
“Indeed,” Ant said. “Can you distinguish the direction?”
Leroy focused, but another gust of wind picked up and he lost it.
“Wind’s too loud.”
Ant drew a large breath, then shouted “Calling in!”
The rustle of leaves, both dead and alive, answered him.
“Calling in,” he hollered again.
Then from somewhere ahead, a hesitant voice that sounded more boy than man floated toward them on the breeze. “What?”
For a moment, neither of them were sure of what they’d heard.
“Somebody there?” Ant asked.
“I am,” the voice said.
“Where might you be?”
“Over here.”
“That is not helpful.”
“Well, where are you?” the voice responded.
“Stand up so we can see where you are,” Leroy called out.
Fifty feet in front of them, a head popped up above ground level. Leroy busted out laughing at the sight. Something about it cracked him up.
Ant continued toward the head of the man, and as they approached they found him standing in a ditch. His stringy hair laid flat on his back, a folded bandana hugged his head above his sunken eyes, and his short sleeves made his long arms look lankier.
“Brother, it’s good to meet you, brother!” He jumped, grabbed the rock ledge, and lifted himself out of the ditch, then held out a dirty hand. “Chad,” he said. When Ant didn’t shake it, Chad glanced at his hand, wiped it on his jeans, then replaced it in the air.
Ant briefly shook it. “Antoine Bevilacqua. The child atop me is Leroy.”
“Nice to meet you, brothers,” Chad said, and reached up to shake Leroy’s hand. “Been a good minute since I found anyone out here.”
“I can imagine. I had doubted there was a jungle here, at all.”
“Wouldn’t be one if it wasn’t for me,” claimed the man, more of a kid, actually, the closer Leroy looked. “Chad’s jungle, at your service.”
Ant and Leroy walked around the ledge and into the ditch via a path that rendered Chad’s climb out of it completely unnecessary. The so-called jungle consisted of a modest fire, a couple large stones and stumps surrounding it, a few upturned pots, and a single sleeping bag.
“You just… made this?” Ant asked. “As if it were a build-by-numbers play set for children?” Ant’s face was darkened slightly by contempt for a moment. “A jungle is born of necessity. It is born of deprivation, of desperation, not of—”
Leroy ground his good heel into Ant’s chest. This guy could be a serial killer for all they knew. Best not piss him off, Leroy thought, just in case.
“Still, it is better than nothing, I suppose,” Ant said, gritting his teeth. “Thank you for having us, Chad. It is good to meet you, too.”
“You can put me down, now,” Leroy said.
“Ah, right.” Ant leaned over.
Leroy dropped onto his good ankle, keeping his left ankle raised, then hopped to one of the stumps and sat. He glanced at his ankle. It was starting to darken and swell. He put his fingers to it, and the skin was hot.
“Dang, what happened?” Chad inquired.
“Just sprained it.”
“Ouch.”
“So do you live out here, Chad?”
Chad leaned on the stone ridge beside him. “Basically. I uh, I’ve got a place in the city, but I only go there when I’m bored or to shower.”
“Is that right?” Ant asked flatly.
Chad said, “Brother, I just can’t tear myself away from the jungle. It’s so peaceful out here. Also, it’s a great place to make friends.”
Ant’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? I was under the impression few riders come this way these days due to the copious security.”
“Believe it or not, probably five or six times a month I find someone out here. Or someone finds me,” he laughed. “Gotta admit though—the people I’ve seen jump the fence, they got caught.”
Ant threw Leroy a glance as if to confirm he’d been correct. So much for the goodwill he’d gained from admitting he was wrong.
“Just for future reference, when somebody says ‘calling in,’ they are looking for permission to safely enter the jungle,” Ant informed Chad. “It is one of many unspoken guidelines of the jungle. Perhaps you should look into them.”
Oblivious, Chad said “Okay, brother, I hear ya. Sounds interesting. Jungle guidelines!” He struck the pose of a hunter holding a spear. “Thanks for the tip,” he said, and launched the fake spear, then looked them in the eyes, waiting for a response. “Like the tip of a spea
r?”
Ant looked away. He opened his bag and found bread and peanut butter, put one inside the other, then put both in his mouth.
“So you guys just passing through, or… ?” Chad trailed off.
“Y-yeah,” Leroy stammered and shot Ant an awkward glance.
“That’s cool, that’s cool,” he said, as if it was decidedly uncool.
“Yep. As soon as my ankle feels better we’re gonna head out.”
“I could drive you somewhere if you guys need a ride.”
Ant shot upright and said “You have a car?” through peanut butter.
“Yeah, about a mile from here in a parking lot. Got no gas, though. If you’ve got the money, I’ve got the time!” he grinned.
Leroy said “We gotta talk about it.”
“You got it. Hey, wanna hear something funny?”
“Sure,” Leroy said to humor him. The guy seemed harmless enough. Ant nodded facetiously, chewing the mush with his mouth open.
“Okay so couple weeks ago this guy ended up here, real dumb, like something was probably wrong with him. He was talking to himself, didn’t really know where he was, oh man it was great. Anyway, somehow I convinced him to piss on the electric fence around the corner,” he pointed with glee in his eyes, “and, like, his wang totally got zapped!” He waited for them to laugh, and did it himself when they didn’t. “He was rolling all over the place, it was a riot.”
“Wow,” Ant started, cleaning his teeth with his tongue. “That is funny.”
Leroy had to close his dropped jaw not once, but twice. He expected Ant to be the first person to protest a story in which there was human suffering, but he might as well have laughed at it.
Before he could say anything, Ant popped a question: “If we provide the money for gas, you are willing to give us a lift?”
“Hold on,” Leroy said. “I gotta talk to you in private.”
Ant widened his eyes and sighed in frustration as he stood. He helped Leroy hobble out of the ditch and behind the robust trunk of an old Oak tree, its leaves yellow-tipped in anticipation of summer’s passing.