When It Rains

by Joel Shaw

  "Three gallons." Sheila stood her ground, her free hand rested on the hilt of her knife.

  She held the clip high for display. Suddenly, Skinny pushed her into Big usher who tried to grab the clip from her with a sweep of his arm. He underestimated her speed and agility. She danced backwards two steps, knife in one hand and the clip in the other. She said nothing. She had expected him to try something. He failed. She passed the test. She glared at skinny scarlet, who was calculating now. He could see she was on fire. He didn’t want to get burned.

  "Two gallons." skinny scarlet said, stroking the wreath of gold chains around his skinny neck with skinny fingers.

  "Two and a half gallons." Sheila replied.

  Skinny caressed his empty 9MM. "Deal. Gimme.” He held out his hand.

  "Fill these first," Sheila demanded. “Two and a half gallons.”

  Usher snatched the HydroPack and canteen from her and tossed them to the tap manager who pulled the tap's handle, filling the flexible containers to the mark. He returned them to Sheila and the trade was complete.

  Sheila backed away before taking a long drink. What a relief. She hoisted the precious cargo onto her shoulders, cinching the straps so the HydroPack wouldn't slip if she had to run. She could see she had nothing to fear, now. The deal was done. She was old news. Skinny scarlet was investigating the GPS's functions and big usher was motioning the next in line to come forward.

  "Whatchu got?"

  Sheila turned her back on the scarlets. She recovered the veil and pistol. She knew it wouldn't be wise to perform a disappearing act out in the open. Her ordeal had assured her that she was just part of the landscape. No need for the veil. No one took any interest in her. She returned by way of the streets keeping an eye on the windows and doorways, ready to dash for cover. She remained cautious, walking in this foreign land. The few people she saw didn't speak to or even acknowledge her. It was as if everyone had something to loose, avoiding confrontations with strangers was the best way to keep it.

  She knelt near the hole in the fence and studied the railroad yard. Nothing had changed since her departure, save the fact that the blue train was gone. She was taken aback...blinking and thinking. What now? Just as she was about to holler for Amber, a familiar voice spoke from behind.

  "Psst. Sheila. Over here."

  Sheila turned. Amber was signaling from the interior of a nearby garage. She ran to join her companion, squatting behind a stack of threadbare tires. “Here, have some water.”

  Amber quenched her thirst with a long pull from her canteen. “Ahhhhhh...I needed that. How much did you get?”

  Sheila told the story about the Scarlet gang without embellishment.

  “What happened to the train? Where’s the dog?”

  "The train started to leave a half hour after you did. I panicked. I lost Red Wing.”

  “What do you mean? How can you lose a crippled dog?”

  “I grabbed all our stuff and threw it off the train, then jumped. I tried to get Redwing to follow me, but he was afraid to jump. He laid down on the deck and watched me disappear. I mean really disappear. It made me sick...but what else could I do? If I had stayed on, I would have lost you.”

  "Redwing is still on the train. You're not kidding, are you?”

  "I'm not kidding." Amber dropped her head, ashamed that she had lost the suffering dog.

  Sheila gave her arm a squeeze. "Don't worry, we'll get him back. We know where the train is going." Her forehead wrinkled like damp cotton in a cold dryer. She was thinking the unthinkable.

  "We have to catch the train."

  Amber's head jerked like a bobble-head doll. "Catch it? How? How are we going to catch that train?"

  "We know that train doesn't go fast, right? I'd guess it was doing about forty most of the time, it slows down when it passes through towns and might stop to let other trains pass. If we can find a car or motorcycle, we could catch it."

  "Now who's kidding," Amber scoffed. "Did you see any cars or motorcycles on your little hike?"

  "No, but I met some guys that might be able to help us find one, and they have fuel." Sheila briefed Amber about the guy with the gas can.

  "Are you sure? That doesn't sound like such a good idea to me."

  "Do you have a better idea? Do you want to walk? These guys are businessmen. They won't be interested in a couple of dirty, stinking women, believe me. If I look as bad as you do, and I do, I wouldn't touch us without a glove.”

  Amber was offended momentarily, then reconsidered after a quick self appraisal. She was as dirty as Redwing. “I...uh..am pretty dirty, huh? I forgot that dirt could be so comfortable.”

  "Now that we've eliminated our bodies, what else do we have? We have to come up with something they want. Let’s do a quick inventory.”

  "We have a few maps and some water ration cards. We have food; not much though. We have one pistol and some ammunition. I have the Tazer with three cartridges... And...seeds."

  "They might be interested in the maps. They won't be interested in the water ration cards. I tried that one. They hacked into the dispenser; water ration cards are useless. I'm not about to give up our weapons; no way. That leaves food and seeds. We need the food. That leaves seeds. Maybe Jordan was right about that. Maybe seeds are better than gold. Let's find out. We'll stash our stuff right here and pay the scarlet gang another visit. Let's take half our seeds. No, wait, let's take a quarter of our seeds. If we need more, we can come back. We'll take the canteen.”

  "Sounds like a plan. I have my doubts, though. Trading seeds for cars...well, I have my doubts."

  "If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”

  “No? Here, drink as much as you can. I’ll see if we can get a refill.”

  They divided the seeds and hid their gear behind the tires.

  “Holy shit. I forgot I had this thing.” Amber was holding the Glock by the barrel as if it was a popsicle. "What about this thing?"

  “Holy shit is right. How could you forget that? Holy shit, Amber. Bring it. Stuff it in your waist and cover it with your jacket. You might need it."

  "I'll probably shoot myself with it."

  Sheila thought it best to ignore the comment. She had faith in her partner; she had seen Amber in action.

  "Ready?"

  Amber nodded. "Ready." The sun is set. The fire is banked. Security is darkness.

  #

  They retraced Sheila’s return route, stopping in the same location at the edge of the field. Several individuals were seated around a small fire near the dispenser. Laughter and Scarlet speak echoed over the hard-packed earth followed by a breeze flavored with what smelled like roasting sausages and peppers. Their mouths watered.

  "Smells like they're having a barbecue," Amber whispered.

  "Sure does. Smells like ass on fire. I wonder where they got the meat?"

  "I'll bet they're eating dog meat, it smells like it.”

  “You eat dog?” Sheila was surprised.

  “When I have to.” Amber didn’t blink.

  “Really...Well, Let's go find out.”

  Sheila pulled Amber to her feet, then yelled. “Hello the camp...can we come in?”

  “Sure...come on in...” That sounded like skinny, Sheila whispered.

  As they approached they were greeted with unexpected courtesy. Every member of water dispenser gang rose for the occasion. They weren't gentlemen, they were dirty, desperate, water-pirates clutching their junk with one hand and a weapon in the other.

  “I wonder what there’re thinking,” whispered Amber. She probed for Sheila’s hand to hold but was rebuffed.

  “Be strong. And, keep breathing.”

  They marched toward Skinny Scarlet who brandished an empty sawed-off shotgun, in one hand, resting the business end of the barrels in the dirt like a crutch. His freshly loaded pistol was visible in his belt. Usher guy brandished an old M-16. Sheila could see that the clip was missing. He might have one round in the chamber, maybe none. These guys are
a pack of posers. I'll be damned. Her demeanor instantly changed.

  "How you fella's doing tonight?"

  Greeter stepped forward. "Whatchu want?"

  "We want to do some trading."

  “Whatchu got? More ration cards?"

  "No. We have something of great value. Something you probably haven't seen in a long time."

  "What? We seen everything. We got everything."

  "You don't have what we have. I'm sure of that."

  "Whatchu got bitch?”

  "Before I tell you what we got, I need to know if you got what we want."

  "Hurry up bitch. We don't play no games. What's up?"

  "I need a car and some fuel."

  The scarlets broke up, slapping each other and deriding the two women with scarlet speak and hand signs. Skinny put an end to the frivolity. The meat on the grill was almost ready to eat and he was hungry. He took over the negotiations.

  "We might be able to get a car. We might have some fuel, too. Depends on...”

  "We need a car that will ride on the rails."

  Amber was startled. What the hell was Sheila up to? Best wait and see.

  "Rails? You mean on the railroad rails? Them rails?"

  Sheila nodded. "And, ten gallons of gasoline."

  Skinny smiled. "You two some crazy bitches, huh. OK, say I got a car and ten of gas. How we gonna know if the car fits on the rails?"

  "You are going to help me figure that out. That's part of the deal."

  Skinny laughed again and his cronies laughed with him.

  "You out your freaking minds. We got business tonight. Take off bitches."

  It was time to deal or disappear. Sheila had to reveal the seeds. They would either laugh louder than before or they would shut up.

  "We have heirloom vegetable seeds.”

  Skinny translated her words for the benefit of the scarlets. They all shut up and for a few fertile seconds remembered what fresh vegetables tasted like. Then they began to plow the soil of conversation, jabbering intensely for several minutes. Sheila squeezed Amber's hand. The seeds had sprouted.

  Skinny wiped the surprised expression from his face. The goofy looking bitch had something of great value. He tried not to let his enthusiasm show. Could she know how much seeds are worth? Maybe. She acted confident. Be nice. Plant a seed.

  "You two hungry?"

  “Yeeees,” Amber said, as though she had been asked on a date to a five-star restaurant. She could see, hear and smell the meat simmering on the grill. She didn't care what animal was cooking, she wanted some. She was ready to beg.

  "We got the meat. You got the vegetables." Skinny translated his joke and his entourage erupted with laughter. He barked an order and moments later a small girl carrying two plastic plates with fist-sized pieces of meat approached Amber and Sheila. She stopped on skinny’s command, several feet away.

  “There’s your meat. Let me see the seeds," skinny demanded.

  Sheila grinned. He was clever, too. She opened the bag of seeds and dumped them on the ground. The silver, vacuum-packed envelopes sparkled like 16th century sterling-silver serving trays in the firelight. Skinny moved with the quickness of a hungry rat, hastily scooping them off the ground.

  "All of em?" Sheila asserted. “All of them...for the car and the fuel.”

  "I don't have to give you shit, now, I got the seeds, bitch.” Skinny sneered. He turned toward his posse, smiling widely, proud to perform a double-cross for the benefit of his boys. Taking them to school. Show them how it’s done. His student’s were distracted, however. He glanced at the women. The goofy looking one had drawn a 9mm, aiming at him. The cute one had followed suit, she aimed at usher. They were good. Usher let the M-16 drop in the dirt and backed off.

  Amber found her voice. "Do we have a deal, or do we leave some dead scarlet assholes laying on the ground?"

  Skinny decided to abandon ship. "Chill ladies. I was just playin’. "He motioned the waitress to deliver the meat.

  "Eat, go ahead. We have a deal." The seed packets disappeared as he barked a succession of orders. Several of his entourage left on their assignments. Other's joined in the meat fest.

  Amber took a huge bite, unable to suppress her hunger any longer. She tried whispering to Sheila with a mouth full of meat. "Have you lost you mind? You think we can drive a car on the railroad tracks?"

  Sheila winked. "I've done it before. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier." She laughed. "I suppose it was because we didn't have a car." She ripped another strand of meat from the bone. Damn, it was good. She looked at skinny.

  "What is this?"

  Skinny looked at her. "Dog. Purebred. From the city." He laughed, then translated. The pirates laughed.

  "I told you." Amber whispered. "They would eat Redwing if he were here."

  "Shhhh. This isn't Redwing, and we need the protein. Eat as much as they'll give us."

  "I'm going to save some for Redwing. He needs the protein more than I do."

  “Shut up and eat, Amber."

  They chewed their way through everything that they were offered, all the while staying alert for any change in the mood of their hosts. Sheila was relieved to see that no alcohol or drugs were present. Eventually the lesser-pirates returned from their assignments. Several discussions ensued before skinny scarlet spoke to the women.

  "We got you some wheels on the rails."

  "Let's go check it out,” Sheila insisted.

  "Sounds good. Let's go." Amber stuffed a piece of meat in her pocket and followed Sheila, Usher and Skinny toward the railroad tracks. In the shadow of an nearby overpass, a dust covered 1963 Plymouth Fury rested with tires on the rails.

  "That's from my collection." skinny winked. “Whatcha think?" Skinny was thrilled. He was golden on this deal. The heriloom seeds were worth ten of the old cars. He would separate the seeds and sell them individually in the city for three thousand dollars each. Maybe more. Golden.

  "You like it? It's got a standard transmission, three on the column. Can you handle that?”

  Sheila nodded. "If the motor runs, I can drive it."

  "Damn right it runs. Listen." Skinny reached through the window and turned the key. The slant-six sparked to life and purred like a well fed kitten.

  "Nice." Sheila smiled. "Smash the brake lights," she demanded.

  "You joking?"

  "No, smash them. I don't want them coming on when I step on the brakes."

  "OK, you got it." Skinny ordered one of the pipe wielders to smash the brake lights; he did so with two efficient blows.

  "Fuel gauge work?"

  "Sure. Check it out. You got half a tank."

  "Good. That's it; we're done."

  Skinny studied the women for a few moments. "You two take it easy, OK? Don't go getting yourselves killed."

  "We'll do our best not to." Sheila motioned Amber into the front seat and slipped in behind the wheel. She gave the Fury a little fuel to sip and they purred down the tracks.

  Skinny trotted along for a few yards. "You get any more seeds, come talk to me."

  Sheila ignored him.

  Amber was compiling data. Was this really happening? Where they going to chase the blue train down the railroad tracks in this car?

  "Amber." Sheila shoved her. “Go get our stuff.”

  Amber whispered as if she were hiding in a closet. "OK, I'll be right back." She soon returned with all their gear balanced on or hanging from her body, still whispering.

  "I got it and I didn't have to kill anybody."

  "Cute, get in."

  "All aboard the Redwing clipper." Amber tossed the gear in the back seat and slipped in front beside Sheila. Sheila let the clutch slip jolting them into first gear.

  "Aren't you going to steer?"

  "Don't have to," Sheila grinned. "We're on autopilot."

  “What’s autopilot?”

  “We just sit here. We don’t have to do a thing...”

  "No kidding?”

  “No
kidding.” The Fury's tires folded like memory foam over the rails and they were soon rolling silently out of town.

  Amber was thinking again. "We should have the GPS running. Where is it?"

  "I traded it for water."

  "Oh no."

  "That's not all, I traded the Minnesota map, and a full clip of ammunition, too."

  "Oh no."

  "Oh yes."

  #

  Amber couldn't get over the novelty of riding in a car on railroad tracks. The ride was smooth and quiet. Much better than riding on the ass of a freight train. The only problem was figuring out where they were going. If the blue train was heading to St. Cloud and it went down these tracks, then the tracks must go to St. Cloud, right? The only problem was, there were two set of tracks, sometimes three. This brought another question to mind.

  She quit smiling and looked at Sheila. “What if a train comes from the other direction?"

  "We get off the tracks. That's not a problem; I turn the wheel and we'll be off the tracks. We might land in a ditch or a field, but we'll be off. That's not a problem."

  "How will we know if we are headed toward St. Cloud?"

  "That is the problem, isn't it? I've been thinking about that. Federal Identification Cards have a GPS function, right? I took a FID off one of the dead Swans. We could use it to navigate, right? The problem with that is, like Jordan said, if we activate the FID, it will broadcast our location. If anyone is looking for those two Swans they'll be waiting for some transponder activity and come looking.

  "Let's use it. I don't care about the transponder. We're almost..." Amber was about to say home. "We're almost there." She was anticipating the pleasures awaiting her. A new home, a brother, new friends; it sounded like a dream. The Swans stood in the way of that happening. There was no room for Black Swans in her dream.

  "I agree. We'll use when we find a set of tracks that head west. Then we'll get rid of it."

  "Can we go any faster? Your foot isn't even on the gas pedal."

  "I don't have much experience going fast. We've been idling down the tracks; that's all we ever did as teenagers. We'd get my dad's car on the tracks and let it idle. We'd sit on the roof and drink beer and smoke doobies. Those were the good old days." Sheila got lost in her memory. Amber helped her find her way back.