When It Rains

by Joel Shaw

  Amber’s mind wandered. What it would be like to live in one of those mansions. She thought of the double-wide trailer that she grew up in. It had seemed like a palace compared to the neighbors single-wide trailers. It had been home; adequate and comfortable. Why did these people need such large homes? What did they fill them with? How could it be that some needed so much and others...she looked at Sheila... others rode on grain cars and ate protein bars.

  "What do you think these people eat?" Amber whispered.

  “They should eat shit and die." Sheila huffed.

  They remained in veiled silence for hours as they waited for the train to proceed north. Trains came and went, laden with cargo containers from Brazil, China, Germany, and Mexico; unloading some and taking on others.

  "These assholes don't want for anything," Sheila blurted, not caring about the men presumably readying the train for the next leg of the journey. After what seemed like hours, they heard the diesel locomotive rev its engine and they were jerked into motion once again, climbing out of the river valley, into Missouri. Again, the perpetual clickety-clack of steel on steel lulled them to sleep until mid-afternoon when they were awakened by clanging couplers. The trained slowed before the gates of Dubuque, Iowa.

  #

  (May 10) Dubuque was a gated Outpost, far less opulent than The Colony of Kansas City. The security fence encircled the heart of the industrial area and the center of town where tracks from the east, west and north converged, mingling cargos at the switching yard.

  Mountains of international cargo containers were stacked along both sides of the gigantic yard. As their train slowed to a stop, a train loaded with blue forty-foot cargo containers squealed to a halt on the rails beside them. Amber and Sheila studied the attractive containers. A large white logo resembling waves was painted over the brilliant sky-blue. ClearWaters was stenciled in navy blue across the waves. Below that, in black, was stenciled Kansas City, Kansas.

  "That is a beautiful color," Amber said, peeking at the containers from under the veil.

  Sheila peeked, too, then looked at her companion as though she were out of her mind, yet she couldn’t suppress her laughter. She was happy to pause her litany of conspiracy theories. Amber's rose-colored observations kept her in the moment.

  Amber studied the container doors; they were not locked. The large galvanized latches that held the doors closed had a small strip of metal looped through a hasp. The ends of the strips passed through a crimped staple. It would take mere seconds break into one. She was restless and bored. She pinched Sheila to get her attention. “Look, those doors aren't locked. Should we go see what's inside?"

  Sheila was cautious, not wanting to take unnecessary risks. “I don't think we should move. We've been lucky so far. I'm sure there are guards on duty. Let's stay put for now."

  Amber jumped off the grain car before Sheila finished her sentence. With knife in hand she scrambled aboard the car adjacent to them. She twisted the metal strip securing the door with her knife blade until the strips snapped. Slowly raising the latch lever, she opened the door and slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind her. She took her headlamp from a pants pocket and turned it on, illuminating the contents of the container. Stacked two high, front to back, were large cardboard boxes on pallets wrapped with transparent film. Amber turned sideways, squeezing between the pallets as she maneuvered toward the rear of the container. She cut the film wrapper and then the box with her knife and and reached inside, withdrawing a flat plastic wafer about eight inches long. Odd. She pulled a large bag from the box and slit it open.”

  "Handles?" She pulled another envelope from inside the box and tore it open. "Labels." She tore a label from the roll and stuffed it in her pocket. Sheila would want to see this. She turned to backtrack out of the container just as the door was pulled open.

  “Sheila?” Her voice wavered.

  “I ain’t no Sheila.” A brilliant light blinded her forcing her to shade her eyes. All she could see was a black silhouette standing at the door.

  "Watcha doin bitch?" The voice was male. The figure moved his light up and down Amber's body.

  Amber was sandwiched between the boxes, unable to rotate, she moved sideways toward the door while attempting to loose her Tazer from its holster. She couldn't reach it. She couldn't get her had between her body and the cargo. She tried to twist her body. Her boot caught in the pallet. She struggled in vain to free her boot.

  "Let me give you a hand," the male voice offered.

  The man climbed on top of the pallets and quickly hopped from one to the next crushing the cardboard with his weight until he was hovered over Amber like a hawk, head down and panting. He placed his black boots on top of the lower row of pallets and lowered himself, straddling Amber's head. He reached beneath her arms and pulled, extracting her like a tooth.

  Amber shook herself free from his grip and made for the exit.

  "Get along honey." The male patted her ass as she scrambled toward the doors of the container. "Hurry up honey, I'm hungry."

  Amber was more agile than the large male. She quickly hopped from pallet to pallet in an attempt to reach the doors before he did. As she neared the doors, her hopes plummeted, the doorway was blocked by another tall silhouette.

  “I didn’t know this train was haulin’ pussy?" Laughed the silhouette.

  Amber placed her hand on the Tazer.

  "Yeah, man. Check it out. Looks like some pretty pussy, too." said his companion.

  Amber withdrew the Tazer and flipped away the trigger guard. The man whom had extracted her from the cargo was on her. His large hands moved around her waist to her breasts. His legs were dangling over edge of the last pallet. He picked her up and let her drop to the floor. He scooted forward to jump down behind her. The man near the door moved closer. Suddenly his face twisted with surprise, then agony. Sheila's hand snaked around his head, covering his mouth as her knife blade pierced his liver. Amber spun, planting the barbs of her Tazer in her assailant’s groin. She pulled the trigger and jumped back as the writhing heap of human flesh fell to the steel floor. She jumped on his chest and planted her right boot on his nose, hard, breaking his jaw and driving his splintered Philtrum into his frontal lobe. He no longer squirmed like a deviated worm; he lay motionless on the floor. She released the cartridge from the Tazer before stumbling from the container gasping for air. She doubled over, head against the door and vomited.

  Sheila spit on the men; one black, one white, both wearing the Black Swan insignia on there lapels. She tore the Glock from the black man's velcro holster and relieved him of his spare clips of ammunition. She tried to get the headset free, but it was woven beneath the body armor. She grabbed his ID card and badge then kicked his feet inside, closing the doors and latching them. She picked up the twisted metal band that Amber had removed, straightened it as best she could and hung it on the hasp.

  They had to change trains. She knew the men had been riding the grain train. She had seen them dismount from the locomotive, strolling along the train, smoking cigarettes and talking until... She was glad she had ruined their day. She retrieved their gear from the grain train and threw it on the car ahead of the bloodied one.

  “Amber. Listen to me."

  Amber was clutching the top rung of the ladder, heaving bile.

  “Amber,” Sheila hissed, “get down from there. Now!”

  Amber looked like death warmed over. Her eyes were wide. Her face was flush. Her hair was matted with perspiration. She was looking for her innocence; it was gone.

  "Amber. Goddammit. Get down here." Sheila was jumping up trying to pull her pant's cuff.

  "Shit." She climbed onto the car and hauled the retching girl to the side of the car and pushed her overboard. "Come on girl. We have to hide. I mean it. We have to hide, now."

  They made their way forward and clambered up where their gear was strewn. Sheila immediately broke the strap on the doors and tossed their gear inside and pulled Amber into the container befo
re closing the doors. Once she sat, she began to tremble. The epinephrine that had kept her motivated and moving, now left her drained. They held each other until the train lurched forward moving toward an unknown destination. Providence once again led the way. The train was rolling north, up the Mississippi River Valley.

  #

  Amber was in shock. She lay in the fetal position on the floor of the container while Sheila sat outside near the rear of the railroad car, sharpening her knife, looking across the river at Wisconsin. She scrubbed the blood from the blade with saliva. Every so often she would stare at the trickle of water running in a gully near the center of the once mighty Mississippi River. Boats and barges rested on the river bottom, some broken, others appeared to be waiting, waiting for water.

  The train passed a switch that sent the train across the river. As the blue train rumbled onward, she felt certain they were Northbound. She unloaded the Glock and familiarized herself with it's components. She reloaded it and chambered a round, slipping it under her jacket. She hoped to persuade Amber to carry it. Tomorrow was a new day. She moved into the container, pulled the door closed.Amber was asleep, breathing normally. Sheila stroked her matted hair. Her companion had shown quick wits and raw courage; they might make it after all.

  #

  (May 11) Amber awoke stiff and sore from her night spent on the cold steel floor. She pushed the container door open and crawled outside. The sun had not yet topped the river bluffs. The wind was cold. Stars overhead, sparkled still in the blackness of space. She drank a quart of water and peed on the rolling steel platform watching her urine advance like a flash flood tower the edge of the car. She pulled her mylar blanket from inside the container and wrapped it around her shoulders, sitting on the rolling steel platform. She pulled a protein bar from her pocket. Stuck to it was the label she had pulled from the box. It fell unnoticed in her lap. She nibbled at the bar, wondering what this new day would bring; hopefully nothing as horrific as the preceding day.

  She thought about the man she had killed. He was evil; no doubt about that. He was intent on doing her harm, but she hadn't intended to kill him, just disable him. In retrospect, she figured it was better that it happened the way it did. If she had tried to run, she would have been caught. If she had to finish him with a knife she wasn't sure that would have happened. She shook her head in an effort to dismiss the unpleasant thoughts.

  The label in her lap caught her eye. Squinting, she tried to read it in the red light of her headlamp. The center of the label depicted a mountain stream rushing over rounded rocks. In the background, an evergreen forest carpeted the foothills below a snow-covered range of mountains. A slogan adorned the label: ClearWaters - Pure Spring Water from the Heart of Kansas.

  Amber sneered. "More like stolen from the heart of Kansas." She listened to her voice that had been her sole companion during the first leg of her journey. Not so long ago either. It seemed like months; so much had happened. Her voice had changed. She had lost the old voice, the innocent voice. It had died with Jamie, and Robert, and the two Black Swans. She shuddered, knowing that the two bodies were traveling in the car behind them.

  "How are you?" Sheila called from inside.

  "I guess I'm good. I was just thinking about what has happened the past few days and how much it has changed me. I feel different."

  Sheila crawled through the gap between the container doors and snuggled up to Amber. She didn't want to talk. They sat together, watching the sun rise over the Wisconsin bluffs. A large bird with white tail feathers swooped over the dried river bed, diving, clamping it's talons around a small rabbit, flying away.

  "I think that's an eagle," Sheila said watching the bird carry its catch to a far away dead tree.

  "It is an eagle. I recognized it right away. Eagles used to fish in Cedar Creek Lake. I loved watching them when I was a kid, I would sit in my swing and pretend to fly like an eagle. They didn't come around after the water level dropped. I wondered where they went. I’m glad they didn't die, they just moved to...wherever we are. Where are we?"

  "I think we are in Minnesota. If I'm right, that's Wisconsin over there."

  "Wisconsin? We used to get cheese that came from Wisconsin. My dad used to say cheese-heads made the best cheese. I would love some cheese right now."

  Sheila laughed."I would love some chicken fried steak right now, with biscuits and gravy."

  "Mmmm. That does sound good, too. A tall glass of milk and some OJ to go with it. Mmmmm. Some day. Maybe." They lost themselves in a fantasy meal.

  “I’m hungry.Do you have another protein bar?"

  "I do, and I can also find out for sure where we are." Amber disappeared inside and returned with the GPS, handing a bar to Sheila.

  "Another gift from your brother." She smiled, holding up the device for inspection "Jordan said this is old school. He said we won’t have to worry about being tracked or something. I forget. I just remember that he said we should use this instead of the GPS function on our Id cards.

  She pressed the power icon and waited for the device to acquire geosynchronous satellites. Toggling the page, they waited for the map to load. As it did, they watched the green cursor move across the grid toward the town of Red Wing, Minnesota. Amber toggled 'Zoom Out'. They could see that Red Wing was a few miles south of St. Paul.

  Sheila breathed easier. “Awesome. I wasn't sure we were headed in the right direction."

  Amber stowed the GPS. They sat quietly, listening to the rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels. They no longer regarded the sounds of the train as noise, it was calming in its regularity. Sort of hypnotic.

  They passed the empty lock and dam, below Lake Pepin. A small white sign posted beside the tracks let the them know that they were entering Red Wing.

  Red Wing appeared more interesting than most towns they had passed through. Pressed against the base of a cliff , it looked like an urban-planners after thought. A tiny park bordered the tracks, flanked by tall, dilapidated, red-brick buildings. Replica paddle-wheel river boats, still tied to the docks, lay on their sides, sunk into the sands beneath a arched bridge which spanned the shrunken river.The small town revealed no signs of life save for an emaciated german shepherd limping along the tracks.

  "Look." They both watched the dog stutter-stepping, almost in time with the slowing train. Amber ducked inside the container and fished another protein bar from her pack. She tore it open as she ran to the end of the car, throwing the morsel in the direction of the dog.

  “There you go, boy. Have some breakfast."

  The dog smelled the gob of grains and soy, then ate it with two bites.

  The train was grinding to a complete stop. Sheila leaned over the side to get a better view. She could see the headlight of another locomotive approaching.

  "I think we're stopping to let another train pass." She turned around just in time to see the top of Amber's hat disappear over the opposite side of the flatbed car.

  "Oh no. Not again." Sheila ran to where Amber had bailed. She was on her way back carrying the large, skinny dog.

  "He's only got three legs. I couldn’t leave him. Here, Help me get him up." Amber lifted the dog as high as she could, being careful not to bang the dogs drooping head on the steel. Sheila reached down and hoisted the dog to the platform. Amber clambered up the short ladder, smiling.

  "What the hell did you do that for?" Sheila was perplexed by the spontaneity of her traveling companion. "You might have been seen. Or worse, you might gotten hurt jumping off like that. You need to think before you act."

  "Sorry. I get that way. I just wanted to help the dog. You think anybody saw me?"

  "How the hell should I know? I hope not. Come on, let's get out of sight, another train is coming."

  Using a large piece of whole-wheat bread as bait, they lured the three-legged dog inside the container. He gave a slight wag of his tail and seemed happy to follow. Sheila pulled the door closed just as the the passing train rolled by. Amber turned her headlamp on
and rotated the filter from red to clear. The brilliant LEDs illuminated their cramped quarters now shared with the dirty, stinking, hungry dog.

  Amber began to examine the dog with her hands, speaking softly all the while like a mother to her baby. His left front leg was gone from the knee down. It was a clean amputation.

  "I'll bet he got caught under a train." She felt his other legs, probed his ribcage; they felt firm. His teeth looked good. She checked the pads of his feet. There were cuts in various stages of healing, but nothing serious.

  "I don't think he's hurt other than his leg. He must have lost it a while ago, it's scarred over. I think he's just hungry, and thirsty." Amber poured some water in her hand. The dog lapped it away, continuing to lick her damp hands. She laughed.

  "He's really thirsty."

  Sheila cupped her hands tightly together. "Fill them."

  Amber poured water into the cupped hands. The dog instantly lapped it away, licking the few spilled drops from the floor.

  "Do it again," insisted Sheila.

  They repeated the procedure until the dog's thirst was sated, significantly depleting their water supply.

  "Good boy. You want something to eat? Sure you do." Sheila dug in her pack for the last loaf of bread. "Here boy. Have some Kansas dog food." She placed the loaf in front of the reclining dog. He placed a paw on top of the loaf and began to chew. The girls smiled at each other with satisfaction. They felt a bit more civilized.

  "Looks like we have a new friend," Amber said.

  "Looks like it."

  The train lurched forward.

  "Here we go. Let's pack our gear and get ready to move. The next time this train stops, we're getting off. “ I’m serious. We’re getting off and getting the hell away from this train before somebody comes looking for the missing guards.”

  They busied themselves packing while the dog consumed the bread, his tail flopping every so often to show his appreciation. They moved their gear to the edge of the car, ready for a rapid exit. Sheila was about to latch the double doors, but stopped, deciding to inspect more closely the container's contents which she had ignored.