Raildogs

by Rejean Giguere

  “You better remember it.” A train pulling out of the yard drowned out part of the words, “…You five were all there.”

  Through rubbery lips Cliff tried blurting out a random catalogue of things he’d done to people over the years, in hopes of hitting the right one. He couldn’t remember names or faces, but he babbled a list of beatings and robberies that he could remember. He must not be hitting the right one, because the guy kept wrapping away.

  The wrapping had reached his neck and the guy started pulling the bandage around his head, covering his forehead, and over his cheeks. Terrified, Cliff waited for the moment the gauze blocked his eyes, but the man left his face uncovered.

  Gradually, he felt his body starting to respond, he struggled to flex his legs. He thought they moved, but constricted inside the wrapping he was still being held tightly in place.

  “While you try and remember,” the stranger rocked back on his heels. “I’ll explain a bit more. This wrapping will begin to warm up a bit as the linseed oil reacts with the air.”

  The stranger’s face hovered above him. “Have you ever heard of human combustion?”

  Cliff really started to freak out now. His whole world was reduced to moving his eyes. He kept trying to speak, and as the drug wore off he was getting closer to forming real words.

  “Wheee, whhhy?”

  “You needed to remember a young woman and her son from Chicago, but it doesn’t matter now.” There was finality in the voice. Like the excitement was over.

  He racked his brain to remember. A woman and her son from Chicago, ten years ago. Cliffy’s foggy mind slid back.

  When he hit on it, it made him cringe. As Cliff replayed it in his mind he actually closed his eyes. That fucking Sam. If this is what it was about, then Cliff was a dead man. He’d known it back then, he’d known it wasn’t right. He’d been sure that it would come back to haunt them. So many years later he’d almost managed to forget about it.

  He opened his eyes and tried to beg for his life. “Sssam.” He mumbled, “Not mmme.”

  His tormenter came in fast, shoving his face close, anger burning through his voice. “Not true,” he accused. “You were the leader. You could have stopped it.”

  “Sssorry.” Cliff knew the guy was right.

  “So am I. You could have saved us all a lot of shit.” The guy was packing up his stuff. “You should feel the heat in an hour or so. Then you’ll start to cook. Then it could get up to six hundred degrees inside the wrapping. So, have a good day asshole.”

  Cliff went to speak and the guy finished wrapping his face, leaving a breathing hole over his nose. His world went black, reduced to the faint sounds he could hear as the guy jumped down to the gravel and the overpowering smell of the linseed oil in his nostrils.

  Cliff lay there. Why had he ever joined up with Sam? The guy was always bringing the wrong kind of trouble. Why had he even left his house to come and do this again?

  Greed. Simple greed was the answer, and he was sure going to pay for it.

  What was coming next? Cliff struggled against the wrappings, he had more muscle control now, but it wasn’t enough. The wrappings were too tight and he couldn’t move. Time slipped by and sure enough, he felt his skin getting warm, then hot. He told himself it was his imagination, but soon enough he felt like he was in a sauna.

  Oh god. That was where he had heard about it before. Oil soaked rags. How many buildings had burned down because oil soaked rags had spontaneously burst into flames? Shit, shit, shit.

  As the temperature began to rise, he became more desperate. His mind was screaming at him to do something. Then he noticed a different smell in the train car.

  It took a few minutes before he realized it was his own skin starting to cook. Then he lost it. His brain and body became two separate entities. He thrashed desperately, moving by inches, working every muscle as he screamed out in pain.

  He was near the door as the wrapping started to smoke. Cliff didn’t know where he was anymore as he felt himself burning up. He just wanted it to be over. He could feel his skin melting, his brain kept screaming out again and again.

  Chapter 14

  Reno, Nevada

  The clock said two in the morning. Sarah was wide awake. The lights were still blazing bright in her room. She didn’t think she’d slept at all. Every nerve was alive.

  She couldn’t hold back the smiles. The package had come with the mail delivery that afternoon. Thank God someone on the staff hadn’t stolen it. The only mail she ever received came from David, so when she first saw the package she assumed it was from him. She hadn’t been prepared for the sight she found.

  Looking down again, she opened up the package on her lap for the fiftieth time since it arrived. It was breathtaking. The two flowers were identical to the first one David had handed her on his last visit.

  She knew their significance the second she opened the box. Was it relief, or was it a new lease on life that had her feeling giddy and lightheaded? She reached in one more time and pulled out the note. Carefully she unfolded the small piece of paper. She stared at David’s blocky handwriting.

  Two more flowers Mom. Would you like to come and pick one yourself? I’m coming to visit soon.

  Sarah’s heart raced. She looked away, not because she wanted to, but because she needed to calm down. Finally, he was getting her out of there. It came with the knowledge that she was going to have a new life. Carefully she buried the strands of anger that seeped in when she thought of picking her own flower.

  No, there would be no sleeping tonight. She needed to make plans and get herself ready. What folks around here might think about her leaving was another subject.

  *****

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  It was damn hot in the south. Jesus. Bart had been carrying the leather jacket for days and it was getting heavier with every degree the temperature rose. He stayed low, out of sight going through towns, but when he could he hung off the side of the train catching as much of a breeze as possible.

  He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been worried after Danny left. He’d gotten used to the extra protection having another person around provided. In the end, he reverted back to being on his own. He’d been there before.

  The problem was figuring out which trains to take. Before he had relied on Danny’s research. Even though he was always watching for them, he couldn’t know that he was outside the Raildog’s box now, and well away from their influence.

  Bart was proud on some level. He was almost in New Orleans, a place he’d always wanted to go. There was something about the lure of the craziness and partying that he knew went on there.

  He tucked back in as the train rolled into the city and stayed hidden until it came to a stop. After an hour he was getting real fidgety because of the heat and couldn’t sit still any longer. A slow freighter rolled past, taking a deep breath, he finally stuck his head out and looked both ways.

  Something big on the freighter didn’t look normal, and Bart stared as it came towards him. Going past was a large concrete cylinder that looked like … a submarine? Instinctively he looked up where the periscope should be, and noticed a guy resting his arms on the open turret, casually enjoying the landscape going by.

  Bart didn’t know why, but he yelled out, “Hey you!”

  The stranger turned towards the source of the sound and waved as the freight car was disappearing from view. “What’s up!”

  He couldn’t believe he’d just seen that. Sitting there with his legs dangling over the side, Bart began to wonder if he was on a two-way or one-way trip. There wasn’t much to go back to, but he didn’t know what was ahead.

  A noise caught his attention and Bart started to jump back inside the boxcar. Then he saw the two women and stopped. No reason to hide from them. They had gotten close without even noticing he was there.

  When he saw the women’s concern, he spoke up. “Hey, I’m by myself,” he said. “I’m cool. Just travelling.”


  The two girls looked him over like they were judging him. He must have passed some kind of test.

  “Hi, I’m Jackie,” the blond pointed at her friend. “This is Beth.”

  “Hey there. Where are you guys going?” Bart’s mood was lifting. “I’m heading to the Keys.”

  “That’s where I’m from,” Jackie said, “We came up to N’Oleans for a few days of partying. We’re heading home now.”

  “Well maybe you can tell me which trains to take. It’s my first time down here.”

  “You got a funny accent. Where you from?” Beth asked.

  “Billings, Montana.” Bart laughed, “The middle of nowhere.”

  “We got ourselves a cowboy.” For some reason that made them giggle.

  And as if on cue, the train jerked once and then twice, before rolling forward.

  “No, I don’t know much about cows.”

  “Well we’ll find out what you do know soon enough.”

  *****

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  David treated passenger trains differently than the freights. He didn’t wait for them to start moving and then jump on. That wasn’t a great strategy when the passengers looking out the windows could see what you were doing.

  The answer was getting on the train ahead of time, lying quietly behind a ventilation unit on top of a restaurant or bar car, until the train was moving. As soon as possible he’d get down between cars. Everything had gone off without a hitch tonight and David wanted that. He needed it. He needed everything to go smoothly for the next few days.

  His mother would be proud. She’d tried to do the right thing for him and it had gone to hell. But that wasn’t her fault. Now he would make part of it right. She hadn’t deserved what happened, but at least she’d get some closure.

  The passenger train pulled out of Salt Lake heading south. Once they were up to speed he knew he’d be in Phoenix in great time.

  As always, he carefully examined the other trains they passed. He focused on the ends of the storage and grain cars, looking into any open doors on the boxcars. A freight was moving into the yard, pulling a string of mostly empty boxcars. Except that one.

  David watched the man standing in the open doorway. Other riders usually never noticed him hidden like this so he stayed where he was behind the unit and stared. As the two trains passed by each other David realized the guy was looking his way.

  This was no drifter, he looked too well dressed for that. He wasn’t drunk, or a druggy either, the rider seemed focused, staring as intently as he was. Something about him didn’t sit right and David kept watching as the train moved on, turning his head to continue looking over his shoulder.

  Then the guy was gone out of view, lost to the night. The passenger train was picking up speed as David slid back to climb down between cars. He was already thinking ahead. The plan had worked in Salt Lake, he was confident it would work in Phoenix too.

  *****

  Texas

  When she was left to herself Maria turned and sat down on the floor beside the pallet. The sudden slowing of the train didn’t mean anything special at first. Then she wondered if they were pulling into a station where she might get help.

  When the train slowed down enough that it seemed like it was going to stop she knew she had to act. Slowly – carefully – she reached for the pile of abandoned clothes. Pulling the track pants up her legs, she tucked the dress into the waistband. The hoodie slid over her head and she sat back down. She was toeing off her shoes to put on the hiking boots when the train stopped completely.

  She heard the men talking, and shivered.

  “Where’s Sam? Do we get to do this bitch or what?”

  Maria tried to be as small as she could, slinking back into the corner.

  The voices were getting louder. “Why is the train stopped anyways?”

  The door slid open slightly and Maria got a good look at the man. Scruffy and dirty, he looked like a bum. The guy leaned out and called backwards, “Hey Sam, what‘s up?”

  When the guy didn’t hear a response, he turned to look forward. Jumping back from the opening, he turned to the others. “We got company, couple guys coming this way.”

  The conversation changed suddenly to ‘where the hell was Sam’, before voices started urging each other to roll the newcomers.

  “Raildogs rule!” the scruffy one yelled.

  “Raildogs rule,” the others shouted back.

  Three of the men jumped through the open door, landing on the run, sprinting down the rail to deal with the strangers. That left one to stay and watch over her.

  Maria didn’t move – she hardly breathed. The Raildog came closer and closer, until he was standing over her, looking down. As the yelling outside intensified, she realized she was hearing Spanish.

  She heard a voice yell out in English, “Rick, help us.” Then the guy beside her ran to the door. She couldn’t figure out why he didn’t jump down like the others. Quickly she hustled around to hide behind the stacked pallet.

  To her amazement the next sound she heard was, “Maria, ¿estás aquí??”

  She hesitated for a moment, still fearful, then relief surged as she screamed out at the top of her lungs, “Estoy aquí! I’m here!”

  Ten faces crowded the door. “You okay? Raul sent us to stop the train.”

  Her legs wobbled slightly as she sat down with a thud. She couldn’t stop the sudden stream of tears that rolled down her cheeks. She shook as she realized she finally was safe. Thank you Raul.

  Maria was still trembling and wobbly as one of the men jumped up into the car and grabbed the remaining Raildog. The guy didn’t resist as he was thrown from the car into the waiting hands of the Mexicans.

  Then someone was beside her, “Come on, Raul is waiting for us.”

  Maria let them lift her up, she didn’t care. The tears continued to stream down.

  *****

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  The freight train pulled into Salt Lake with Bill standing at the door, alarmed and alert. Red and blue lights on the streets seemed to be heading towards the yards. Were they coming this way?

  As the train entered the yard and he lost sight of the flashing lights as a southbound passenger train blocked his view.

  Instinctively he ran his eyes along the tops of the cars, there weren’t a lot of other places to hide on those things.

  Something caught his attention and he waited for the passenger train to get closer. The odd shaped dark object turned into a guy lying down on top of a car. Fuck, another one. Bill stared at the rider. Locked onto each other, they held their gaze, as the trains rolled past.

  The guy seemed to be dressed in black. Just like the previous rider, there was something about this one that bothered him. He sure didn’t look like a beginner on the rails.

  Bill watched until the rider was out of view. Then he remembered the lights and began looking ahead, wondering where the train was stopping. Unlike the illegal riders, he didn’t have to hide from anyone.

  When the train finally did stop, he climbed down and started looking for someone. Crossing some tracks and walking towards an overpass, he ran into a yard worker. “Hey, did some cop cars come in here?

  The guy jumped before turning, a sure sign he’d been startled. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Hey, easy buddy,” Bill pulled out his wallet waving his I.D. “I’m a cop.”

  “The cars went along the upper road, over the bridge, where the east and west tracks are.” The worker didn’t look like he wanted to answer to anyone, and turned his back, insinuating Bill should go about his business.

  Bill was already jogging off in that direction and didn’t see the act of dismissal. He wouldn’t have cared anyways. He had other things on his mind. Why was he so sure this was another one?

  When he climbed up the steep slope to the road he could see the cruisers parked together on the service road. At the sight of the meat wagon, he took off running towards the light
s.

  An officer heard him coming and turned at the noise of his boots pounding on the gravel. The uniform stepped out to intercept him, his hand up. “Stop right there.”

  Bill noticed the other hand resting on the sidearm and dropped his pace down to a walk. “It’s okay, I’m a cop.” He reached towards the front pocket of his jeans to pull out his I.D. again and the cop reacted.

  “Freeze, don’t move.”

  Bill froze like a statue, held still by the business end of the handgun.

  “I’m getting my I.D. out,” Bill waited.

  “Go ahead,” the cop nodded, “slowly.”

  He carefully slid the small wallet out and opened it towards the officer.

  The man stepped forward to get a closer look. “Where you from?”

  “Colton, California. I’m working a case. Bill Dewton.”

  “And you ended up here in our freight yard?” The cop was curious.

  “I’m following a trail of bodies and they all come from rail yards. You got one?” Bill pushed the matter.

  The cop hesitated, then he nodded towards the tight knot of cops near the freight train “You won’t believe it, see for yourself.”

  Since the guy didn’t seem inclined to explain any further, Bill followed the cop towards the others. He was introduced to the group as they shuffled aside to make room for him to see what was causing the commotion.

  He was perplexed by the sight. He knew exactly what it was, a mummy. But what the hell was it doing here? The edges of the wrappings were burnt and the whole thing bore the scorch marks of having been on fire. No one spoke and he knew the drill, but these being cops, he was sure there were punch lines waiting to come.

  “Okay, what the hell is this?” No smart-ass stepped forward with a wise crack. Unusually, everyone remained quiet. It seemed they were on edge.

  Finally someone answered. “The guy was mummified. Are these things supposed to burn up? It’s like something went wrong.”

  “The poor bastard definitely started to cook.”

  Bill shuddered. The guy had been slow roasted, mother-of-lord. “Where was he?”

  “A yard worker found him. Saw a bundle of rags along the track smoking. By the time he got here it was on fire.” The cop stalled a second. “The worker said he rolled the bundle around in the gravel and sand on the edge of the tracks to stop it from burning up. That’s when we got the call.”