A Tale from the Hills

by Terry Hayden

  He was about to reach a crossroads in the tracks. He would have to decide the direction and location of his future home. Did he want to see the seasons change in a northern climate, or did he want to be spoiled by the warm southern Sun? He sat down in the morning sunlight to make up his mind.

  He had not been sitting there very long when the dream popped back into his thoughts. He tried hard to shut it out but the more that he tried, the more realistic that the dream became. It seemed to him that the old man was forcing him to think about things that would cause him great distress. He saw Alex sitting in the chair with his throat cut wide open. That vision would stay with him for the rest of his life. He could hear the old trolls whispering and sniggering in the background. Even though in his mind he knew that he was a grown man, he had no idea what he was going to do after darkness fell. He knew that he would have to be settled in someplace that was safe and secure. That fact was going to add an extra burden to his life, and it was something else that he could on the dreadful old man. He would be looking over his shoulder every time that he heard a strange noise. And he knew for a fact that he would never trust anyone again, ever.

  He wished that he had stayed at Eunice’s. At least if he was there he would not be alone. All of a sudden he missed his family in Virginia. He wondered if his daddy wasstill living in the same old house. He thought about each one of his brothers. He wished that he had kept in touch with them. He felt guilty about leaving them, but deep down he knew that he had no other choice.

  He was the black sheep of the family and nothing was going to change that fact of life. And there was another fact that was not going to change either. If he did not get off of his sorry for himself ass and get going, he would be sitting there for the rest of the day. That bit of information snapped him back into the real world, real fast.

  He opened the old suitcase to double check its contents. He was glad that he remembered to pack the food that was in his room. He certainly did not want to take the time to buy more. He had wasted too much time already. Everything appeared to be in place except the picture in the old metal frame. It must have been dislodged when he almost dropped the suitcase. The old man was staring up at him with his all too familiar smirk. William snatched the picture from the suitcase and threw it with all of the force that he had built up in the muscle of his arm. He did not see where the picture landed but he heard the crunch of the glass that covered the old couple’s faces. Now he was ready to begin his journey, South. He decided that he did not want to have to deal with cold weather along with his other problems.

  ************

  Chapter Five

  For the first time in his life William was going to ride the train. Not a luxurious train with porters and elegant sleeping quarters. He was going to hop a southbound freight train. He saw the way that hobos did it because he used to hang around the tracks on weekends in Wilkesboro. Since there was not a lot of things to do during the day, he entertained himself for free and he learned a few things at the same time. He knew exactly where to hide while he waited, and he thought that he knew just when to jump onboard the train. Lucky for him there were no other people waiting for a free ride. He craved solitude. He would have surely walked away if anyone else had been at his designated spot. He hoped that the train that he was going to hop would also be free of human cargo. He hid the pistol inside of his pocket as an added precaution.

  His wait was not for very long. He heard the familiar whistle only minutes before a freight train approached. It must have been bypassing Wilkesboro because it did not even slow down at the station. In the past when he watched the hobos jump into the fast moving trains, it looked kind of easy. Now it looked pretty damned scary. He had never seen a hobo jump with a suitcase in his hand, and he hoped that it would not prove to be a disaster for him. He did not want to lose the contents of the suitcase, especially the food, but at least he would still have his money and his pistol if he lost everything else.

  The only person that he saw on the train as it passed was the engineer. Before he had a chance to think about it and change his mind, he jumped into the open door of a freight car. He landed with a violent thud but everything was intact. He quickly regained his balance and tried to focus his eyes into the darkness of the freight car. The car was practically empty. There were some large wooden crates stacked into one corner. Stenciled on the side of each of the crates was :

  WILMINGTON SHIPYARD

  WILMINGTON, N.C. Property of the U.S. Navy The train was obviously headed to the coast. William remembered that his former teacher Mr. Rosenbaum, the bastard, talked about the Wilmington Shipyard from time to time. Rosenbaum said that Wilmington was a big city. William hoped that it was bigger than Wilkesboro. Even though it was not quite as far south as he really wanted to be for the Winter, it might just be a good place to get a job and start a new life. At least it would be a long ways from the mountains, and besides if he did not like it there, hecould move the Hell further south or maybe even stowaway on a ship to a distant land.

  William managed to move some of the boxes enough to make a secure hiding place for himself. The only way that anyone would find him was to completely empty the freight car. He was sure that would not happen until the train reached Wilmington. Pangs of hunger were coming on by the time that he settled down for what he hoped was the duration of the trip. He barely had enough room for the suitcase in his new cramped quarters that he had created for himself. But he decided that he would much rather be cramped than be discovered, so he adjusted to his temporary home. He dined on dried beef and crusty bread before he settled down to go to sleep. He was concerned about going to sleep because of the dreams, but the rhythm and motion of the train rocked him to a peaceful rest. He must have slept for hours.

  The slowing down of the train, followed by several long blows of the whistle, signaled to William that the train would be stopping soon. He knew that he needed to be out of the train before it was completely stopped. He was sure that he would be arrested if the authorities caught him on the train, and he did not want to pay a fine or go to jail, or both. He grabbed the suitcase and moved quickly toward the open door. He jumped from the train into an open field.

  After brushing himself off and straightening his clothes, he looked around for a landmark that would indicate that he had finally reached Wilmington. Off in the distance he saw the backside of a water tank with the letters INGTON written on it. He was sure that the other side of the sign would spell out the rest of Wilmington, but he was disappointed to find BURL, instead. Where in the Hell was Burlington? He assumed that he was still in North Carolina, but he had slept so well that he was not sure of anything. He had no idea what time it was or how far the train had traveled while he was asleep. He suspected that the old man was playing tricks with his mind.

  He soon found out that Burlington was still in North

  Carolina, but that he was still several hours away from the coast. A map at the railroad station showed a detailed route to many destinations and Wilmington was a relatively straight shot from Burlington. The next major city was Raleigh, which was the Capital of North Carolina, and Wilmington was a few hours away from Raleigh. William had never realized before that North Carolina was such a large state. Of course everything was huge when compared to the tiny community of Jewel Ridge Mountain.

  Dusk was approaching rapidly and he was sure that a cheap room could be found somewhere in the city. He did not want to be out of doors after dark so he hurried from the railway station to the downtown section of Burlington. He met several people as he walked along but none of them even looked at him. His first impression was that the citizens of Burlington were not as friendly as the citizens of Wilkesboro. And that suited him just fine. He did not want to speak to anyone except long enough to get a room and maybe something to eat a little bit later on. His decision to go out for food would depend upon how safe he felt in his temporary surroundings.

&
nbsp; Finding a room was relatively easy but it cost him a buck for the night. He thought that the price was too high, but it was dark by the time that he reached the old hotel. Even if the price had been more than a dollar, he would have had to pay it. There was not enough time to look for another room without risking who knew what kind of ungodly evil after dark in a strange place, and the room was grand compared to his room in Wilkesboro. There were some nice pieces of furniture and even pictures on the walls. Of course the furniture was bolted to the floor and he suspected that the pictures were likewise bolted to the walls.

  All that he really was interested in was a place to feel safe and to sleep in peace and quiet. He bolted the door and double checked to make sure that he was safely locked in. He did not even bother to unpack. He placed the pistol under a pillow and settled down for a quick nap before supper.

  Bright morning light was beaming through the window when he finally woke up. He must have slept for hours and hours, and without a single dream. He felt very well rested, but he was starving. He quickly dressed and made his way downstairs to check out of his room.

  “I thought that I was going to have to come in your room and wake you up.” the desk clerk announced. “Its almost ten o’clock.”

  “I was very tired.” William answered. “Where can I get something to eat around here?”

  “If you came here from the railroad station, go back the same way. About halfway between here and there is a pretty good diner.”

  “Thanks.” William replied.

  “Come back and see us.” the clerk said with a North Carolina drawl.

  “Not likely.” William said as he closed the door behind him.

  The desk clerk watched him as he walked quickly up the sidewalk. William turned every few steps to see if anyone was behind him. The clerk thought to himself that he had seen a lot of people come and go during his career in the hotel business, but the guy who just left was one of the strangest to darker his doorway. Cute as Hell, but strange with a capitol S.

  As he stepped into the small cafe’, William remembered the first time that he ever ate in a restaurant. He remembered that the town was named after a President, but for the life of him, he could not remember which one. He ordered the breakfast special and the waitress winked when she told him that he was getting the very last one. He half smiled back at her but that was the full extent of his flirtation. All that he wanted to do was to eat and then be on his way.

  When the food finally arrived he ate like he had not eaten for days. After seconds and thirds of the toast and coffee, he paid his tab and made his way back to the railway station. There was much too much activity for him totry and sneak on board a train, so he began walking in the direction of Wilmington. He was so well rested and his stomach was so full, that he decided to exercise himself by walking for a while. Besides he was glad to get away from the crowded city and be all by himself for a while. He felt ill at ease and vulnerable among strangers now more than ever.

  He had time to think about his life up to that moment. It seemed to him that every time that he got settled into a new location and tried to make some kind of a life for himself, bad things always happened. And the bad things were getting worse too. The events in Wilkesboro were the worst ones yet, and he dreaded what the future might bring his way. He wished that he had some way of knowing what was going to happen to him next. Sometimes he wished that he had joined little Alice in the murky water when she disappeared on that terrible Monday morning. He realized that he could always step out into the path of an oncoming train, and that particular thought had crossed his mind on more than one or two occasions. But his survival instincts naturally kept him from destroying his own life. It was either that or a fear of seeing the old man face to face that did it.

  The landscape was almost flat in every direction that he looked. There was a gentle roll to the hills that gave him a sense of peacefulness and tranquility. Nothing could threaten him if it could not sneak up on him. It would be nearly impossible for that to happen here. He took that as a sign that better times were ahead for him. There would be no surprises to catch him off of his guard.

  He walked for miles before he felt the need to stop and rest. He had eaten so much that morning for breakfast that he knew that he would not be hungry again for hours. He did have to stop every so often to relieve himself because of the amount of coffee that he drank at the restaurant. But even then he stayed close enough to the tracks to keep an eye out for anything that looked suspicious.

  It was mid afternoon before he heard the familiar sound of a train’s whistle. He climbed to the highest point around him to look for the oncoming train. He hoped that it was going in the same direction that he was going, and lucky for him it was. The anxiety about jumping into a fast moving train suddenly returned, and for good reason. This train was traveling at a much faster rate of speed than the first train that he jumped into. He decided not to risk jumping with the suitcase. He took out as many things as he thought that he could safely carry, and he hid the suitcase in the bushes around the track. He figured that he would never be back to claim it, but he wasn’t all that keen on giving the stuff to a hobo either. He just could not picture a dirty hobo wearing that beautiful blue wool coat with the pencil thin black stripe. He was already carrying the gun, but he secured the bullets, some food, and an extra shirt under his shirt.

  The train looked like any of the hundreds of trains that he had seen in his lifetime. He waited until about half of the cars passed before he took the chance and jumped. This time he landed hard, very hard. He turned his right ankle and slightly cut his arm when he landed on the hard surface of the freight car. But even worse than that, he was not alone this time. There were three men hunched up in the corner. On second look he noticed that they were playing cards. Each man was drinking whisky from his own bottle. William also noticed several more bottles scattered around on the floor.

  One of the men looked up from the game and said, “Hey bud, you disturbed our game. Who said that you could ride in our car?”

  William was quite startled and in pain, but he tried not to show either affliction.

  “Excuse me,” he replied. “But which one are you Mr. Norfolk or Mr. Southern?”

  He had heard that line once in a bar and it seemed to be appropriate at that moment. His quick thinking seemed to ease the tension of his new surroundings. All three of the men laughed and then continued with their game and drinking as if he had not even interfered with their afternoon.

  William kept his distance from the men, but he never took his attention away from what they were doing. He had never trusted hobos and since the events in Wilkesboro, he never trusted anybody. He had made up his mind never to trust anyone, ever again. Man woman or child, he was sour on the whole damned world. He felt like screaming out in anger and frustration, instead he sat there in silence. The dormant volcano that was inside of him was on the verge of eruption. He knew that if he did not find a safe place soon, that he explode. Pity to anyone who happened to bearound when that time came to pass.

  **********

  It was not very long before the men grew tired of playing cards. William noticed that their bottles were empty too. There was something about the tone of their conversation that was starting to make him feel even more uncomfortable than he was before. He did not like the fact that the men were not amusing themselves anymore. He feared that they might focus their attention on him. He was right on the money.

  “Where are you from boy?” one of the men asked.

  “The other side of the state.” he replied.

  “And where might you be going?”

  “The other side of the state.” he replied.

  “I see that we got us a smart ass here.” he said to the other men.

  “And a right pretty one too.” another of the men replied as he winked in William’s direction. “I wonder if his
bottom half is as pretty as his top half?”

  All three of the men stood up, brushed the loose straw from their clothes, and began walking toward the boy.

  William did not like the look that was in their eyes. He thought about the look that Mr. Rosenbaum gave him as he brushed his over sized hands against William’s skinny butt. And all that the boy wanted was to be left alone, then aswell as now. He had not said or done anything to provoke these men, and he was not about to be their entertainment for the rest of their trip either. He was sure that they meant him harm too.

  Without saying a word or showing any emotion, without even changing the expression on his face, William pulled the pistol from under his belt and shot the hobo that he perceived to be the ring leader of the group. Even though he was not an accomplished shot, he did not bother to aim the gun at any particular section of the man’s body. It was a lucky shot because it struck the surprised man at the midpoint between his eyes, and just above the bridge of his nose. Bits of bone and cartilage and blood splattered the men on either side of the intended victim. One of the other two men jumped out of the fast moving freight car, but he did not escape by any means. He landed hard on a bed of jagged rocks much like a baseball played would slide into home plate. He suffered unspeakable pain on a desolate section of North Carolina’s landscape before he finally died. Wild dogs nibbled on his nose and ears before and after he died.

  The third man raised his arms into the air and began to cry. He knew that he was facing death and he was not ready.

  “Please don’t kill me.” he pleaded. “I’ll do anything that you say. Just let me live. I’ve got a wife and three small children.”

  The boy turned a deaf ear to anything that the man had to say. His movements were mechanical and methodical. He marched the lone survivor of the hobo group over to the sliding door.