Pathos One waved the bottle away.
“Suit yourself, but I’ll make a drunk out of you yet.”
“Do you think it’s safe?” he asked, nodding at the almost pitch black space in front of them.
“Quite capable of doing the task with a buzz,” she said defiantly. Jamie capped the bottle and dumped more coal on the fire and worked the controls to prove her point. She touched her nose with her finger.
“All through college, I never met a bottle I didn’t like. Couldn’t keep me away from it, but as I got older things changed. Maybe it was when I reflected on my father and the years I’d lost with him because of the bottom of a can of Budweiser.”
“Car wreck?”
“No. Old age. My father lived a life of mixed sobriety, but he never truly laid his vices aside and moved past them. I’m talking about the years he was there but wasn’t. The years where he’d pass out drunk listening to Billy Joel records. There’d be moments, little instances of joy.” Pathos One cracked his knuckles, flexing his hands, studying all the things they’d accomplished, ended, and done since the day of the memory. “I remember him teaching me how to draw a helicopter from one of those how to draw books. He made it look so easy. But that moment, that rare moment, nearly lost now, made me so happy. It brought me a joy I can’t even quantify.
“I felt the same way when I saw Bobby reunited with Sophie and Randal, and now.” Pathos One threw his hands up in defeat. “We always heard our parents say life was like that. That it has a way of doing that to you, to them, to all of us. I spent my whole life trying to understand why my father did what he did. And you know what I found out?”
“Nothing,” Jamie said, taking a long swig from the bottle. “Drink.”
“Nothing. There were no answers for me. No great truth that I’d read about in so many literary works. Sometimes there are no answers. And that ignorance is devastating to the soul. My father never found answers after fighting in Vietnam. He only found salvation at the bottom of a bottle. Like I found salvation in helping Bobby and taking on the task of cataloging the dead.” Pathos One stared at the floor.
“Drink,” Jamie said, putting the bottle in front of him again.
Pathos One took a swig and then another, rubbing his hand across his mouth to abate the burn. He felt hot already.
“My boys will be okay. By god, they’ll be okay.”
“Will they? I can’t help but feel we’ve done a great disservice to the saner members of the human race.” Pathos One did not wait to be offered the bottle this time. He took it and knocked it back, basking in the burn.
“What’re you on about, stranger? That’s crazy talk,” Jamie huffed. The train eased around a bend, squealing into the deep dark Missouri night. St. Louis was getting close. They’d reach it by sunrise and it would mark their halfway point.
“Is it? Hear me out on this, Jamie,” he said, studying the liquor before the glow of the fire box. “We’ve spent so much time saving our own skin, preserving our own, that we’ve let our counterparts seed devastation. Think about it. For all the good this train represents, and no doubt has accomplished over the years, they’re still out there. Armies, cults, and who knows what else. We let them exist. Sure we’ve fought them when need be, but we never sought them out.”
“You’re talking crazy. The good far outweigh the bad, stranger, and don’t ever forget that. God has his reasons and the devil has his as well.”
“Open your eyes, Jamie. The second order was lost. Look what happened. Law and reason were abandoned. This wasn’t a shock. It was natural. Those of us that could’ve stepped in headed for whatever fucking safe haven we could find. I left more than a few innocent lives by the roadside. Them or me. Them or me, right?”
“Right, and you’re still drawing breath and hogging my bottle because of that decision. Don’t let them haunt you. Baylor always said that. Survival is a dirty game. I know what you’re at, and I’m telling you to leave it alone.”
“Leaving it alone, leaving people like those riders alone to fester and prosper, will be our downfall.”
“Would you like we just start a lynching party and go state by state killing the undesirables?”
“If it meant that their family would survive . . . would thrive,” the stranger pointed the bottle into the darkness of the other car, “then, yes. Absolutely. I’d lead the charge. What happens if they come back? It’s all done. They survived. What stops the next potential threat?”
“Being prepared to face whatever may come. Being able to stand up and stick a gun in its ugly mouth and putting it in the dirt. My mother always said don’t go looking for trouble because it will find you before you find it.”
Pathos One drank from the bottle again then passed it back to Jamie. He swayed. The train clattered along at its snail’s pace. Something darted across the tracks, animal eyes flashing in the lantern light, then vanished like the taillights of an old car on a rainy night. “I just wish there was something, some solution to the problem of our time.” He leaned into the wind. “How will we ever achieve normalcy again?”
“There is no such thing. Normal is relative, just like time. All we can do is make their lives easier by teaching them, passing things on, keeping them safe, and letting them do the same with their children. Such is life, drawing horrors from the depths of the well into the light. Good times and bad, like every goddamned song. Ups and downs. If it was all flat, there’d be no need to progress. There’d be no meaning.” Jamie sipped the bottle. She tossed another stack of coal into the box.
“Struggle builds character, shapes life. It certainly did mine.”
“And mine. How’s that buzz doing?”
“A bit more than a buzz, Jamie. I think I’m good and ripped.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I think I can actually change this world. I think if we start, I mean really sit down and figure out what we want, what kind of place we want to build and what kind of place we want to leave for them, I think we can make it happen.” Pathos One laughed into the night. The hopes of his life echoed in the dark.
“You’re starting to scare me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re starting to sound like Baylor.”
“That how he got the name Mad Conductor?” Pathos One always wondered, long before he ever set foot on the train, how the man had come by the name. He’d seen flashes of what some might consider crazy, but were far from mad.
“He didn’t get it from dreaming. He didn’t get it from building something as crazy as this route. No, he got it from killing people, stranger,” she said softly. Her eyes welled, but she was able to draw the tears back inside. “Not a damn one of them deserved any better, but the toll, righteous or not, it wears you down. I know its worn him down over the years. It’s a side of him none of you have seen. Not you, not Bobby.”
Pathos One could only think of those caught in Bobby’s wrath. Those he perceived as innocent over the month’s since, but were they really? He’d battled the thoughts on many sleepless nights.
“He has his way, stranger. He’ll kill every last one of them and come home to us with a smile like nothing ever happened. He’s been killing those that’d get in the way of progress for more than twenty years. Think about that, about the weight of it. That’s why I’m telling you to forget it. I love Baylor more than anything on this earth. I owe him more than I can ever hope to repay, but it kills me to see those marks on his soul. I can see them every time I look into his eyes. The years of bloodshed. All those decisions on our behalf, and I love him even more for it, but it kills me.” She began to cry.
Pathos One put his hands on Jamie’s shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t know what else to do.
“And I see that same look in the boy’s eyes. Saw it the moment he nearly got himself killed that day on the train. Baylor’s no stranger to taking the life of a young one.”
Pathos One gasped.
“Sometimes we don’t have the luxury
of choice. I’ve seen the young propagate violence just as easily as anyone else. Sophie knows it firsthand.”
Pathos One hugged her. She never took her eyes off the track, working the sticks while giving him a simple kiss on the arm in thanks. He suddenly felt heavy and stupid. The dreamer in him had averted the eyes of the realist. There was a lot of dirty work involved in world building. He’d helped kill, but could he continue to do so without hesitation? Could he do what Baylor had done?
“We’ll be coming up to St. Louis soon. Should catch her right at sunrise. You won’t want to miss it. Get a little rest.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here and ride out the night with you.”
Jamie laughed. “Is that a proposition, stranger?”
It was not. But under the hood and behind his scars, he blushed.
* * * * *
Sophie felt the warmth on her cheek. The car was filled with a deep orange haze. Shadows flicked intermittently as the train clattered past a thick patch of weeds. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and went to check on Randal. He was sitting up in his makeshift crib playing with his feet. He rattled off a litany of ‘da,da,da,das’ and smiled at her. She picked him up and set him on her hip.
She didn’t smell anything cooking, which had her reaching for the shotgun. She’d never known a day to start without Jamie cooking something. She could hear laughter over the clatter of the train.
“Sophie, come see!”
Sophie left the shotgun behind and carried Randal to the next car only to find it empty.
“Up here, dear! Come look!” Jamie called from above. “Here, hand me the child. You have to see it. It’s amazing.”
Sophie handed Randal to her then quickly climbed the ladder.
The stranger sat on the edge of the car, legs dangling over, staring into the distance. She followed his gaze and froze. Randal giggled from beside her, but she hardly heard him, or Jamie’s near constant laughter.
In the distance, before the ruin of what was left of St. Louis, stood a relic from the past, a landmark of man’s progress. That wasn’t what stunned Sophie. She could care less about what happened before. It simply didn’t matter to her. The thousands upon thousands of birds perched on it did. Thousands more swooped under and over. The sky was a moving, speckled sheet of nature’s brilliance. The songs were unlike any she had ever heard before, and she knew, on a greater level of existence, she would never hear again. A teeming monument, a mock tombstone before the ruined city, and its plaque read: We are not dead yet. Far from it, she thought, as she looked at Randal and what remained of her family.
The wind in her hair reminded her of him, but she could not think about that now, would not think about him. The hurt was too great. She breathed deep of the sweet air and watched the birds carve patterns into the bright sky. A myriad of blues and yellows mixed with hints of gold along the arch, and the black silhouettes of the birds painted over the decay of yesterday.
Sophie kissed Randal and squeezed Jamie’s hand.
“I don’t remember this on the trip out here,” Pathos One said, letting the sun touch his scarred face.
“Because this route wasn’t on the itinerary, stranger,” Jamie said with a wink. “You thought we ran one route over and over for twenty years?” She laughed and stuck her massive breasts outward in defiance. “Would’ve never made it this far. The only part of the trip we haven’t expanded on yet is the last quarter. Think of this as a pleasant detour.”
“But what about the Creepers?”
“St. Louis is an empty nest,” Sophie said
“A what?”
“She’s talking about the flood. Area was washed out years ago. One of the reasons the old city is so green now. The Mississippi crested her banks and washed it all away, leaving her fertile silt behind. I’m sure there are some of them out there, but the herd has been thinned for sure, stranger. One of the reasons I took this route back. Anyone lying in wait for us won’t know about this one.”
“Baylor had a hell of a time with this part of the track. I remember when I was little.”
“He did, girl, that he did, but there’s never a moment the man isn’t thinking.”
“Have you ever tried to establish any trade this way? There’s got to be people on the river still.”
“There are, but we should hope to avoid them. They’re not natural,” Jamie said, looking over her shoulder. “I’m heading down to put a few more coals in the box and get this bitch up to speed. No need to waste the light. You should get some shut eye, stranger.”
“I think I’ll do that.”
Sophie sat, bouncing Randal on her lap while Jamie kept the train moving at a good clip. The ride had smoothed out some, and the jostles and clatters were few and far between. Herds of deer scattered as they rode past. Every so often, a Creeper would appear, lost and hopeless, and they continued right past as if they were unimportant signs along the road.
“When they’re gone, what’s next?” Sophie asked.
“Don’t know if they’ll ever be gone, girl.”
“They will one day.” Sophie stared into Randal’s chubby face. “They’ll see to it. We won’t have to worry about them anymore.”
“I suspect you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we let our guard down.”
“Never,” Sophie said, flashing the handgun tucked into her waistband. “Never that again.”
“Ever.”
“Jamie, do you think they’re okay?”
“They’re probably in a bit of trouble, but knowing them two I think they’re okay. Don’t think about them until you have to, girl. Think about that boy and nothing else.”
“I’m trying.”
“Me too.”
“Do you remember after it happened? When we were alone in the woods and we heard him screaming that song?”
Jamie smiled. A chuckle escaped her. “How could I forget. It’s one of the reasons I ran out there. I knew anyone singing Guns and Roses that terrible couldn’t be all that bad. Insane but not bad.”
“I think about that day often. Baylor on top of the train screaming his lungs out, challenging the world. He wasn’t afraid, and I think seeing that saved me. I know it saved us, but that saved me, too.”
Jamie nodded without a word.
“I think if I didn’t see him, didn’t hear him, I’d be lost like the ones that had us.”
“They don’t have us anymore, girl. I saw to that.”
“For so long I couldn’t think about anything when the night came. So long, Jamie.”
“I know, dear.”
“And now, now that I have something, someone to occupy that space, it was good, after a year of not knowing, and now not knowing again.” Sophie cried while Randal laughed, oblivious to the true nature of her torment. She wanted Bobby, wanted him near her, wanted his arms around her. She’d hardly had a chance to know him.
“Dear,” Jamie began then stopped.
“I don’t know if I can do it, Jamie. I can’t go another year without knowing. How can we come back without him? What will we be coming back to? We could end up in the same spot. I can’t leave Randal behind. That’s out of the question.” Sophie’s emotions came roaring out her little body and she didn’t stop them. She’d consumed their rawness for far too long. It was time to let go.
“You won’t have to, dear. Baylor won’t let that happen. He’ll die before he lets that happen.”
“What if he does? What if they do?” She sobbed.
“They won’t.”
“How can you know? How can any of us know?” Sophie didn’t have a lick of blind faith in her. She learned long ago you trusted only what you wouldn’t shoot and nothing else. But something in Jamie’s eyes gave her pause and it wasn’t the tears.
“Because the crazies are always the smartest ones, dear. The crazies have learned to let go, and that’s what makes them dangerous, and Baylor’s crazier than them all.” She tossed coals into the box and started to hum the tune that Baylor
loved to hum when he was most at peace.
CHAPTER 17
“Howard…”
Howard heard her but he rolled to the side. He was exhausted. He felt her squirming on top of him, trying to get him to wake up.
“Howard…”
He felt her trying to pinch his arms through the thick material of his coat. He pushed her away but kept his eyes closed. He only wanted another few minutes.
“Howard… Howard… Howard…”
He felt her pinch again. This time he opened his eyes.
Howard… Howard… Howard…
He realized he hadn’t been hearing her voice out loud as he blinked away the remnants of a dream. He hadn’t been hearing it at all. Jennifer’s pleas existed only in the expanse of gray matter between his ears.
The Creepers (Book 2): From the Past Page 16
