The Insane Train

by Sheldon Russell

  “In short, I have no intentions of giving up here. If you can’t help me, I’ll find another way.”

  Hook laid his prosthesis across his lap. Dust had gathered on the hinge where he had dripped the oil. The damn thing looked like the tie rods on a junked car. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped it away.

  “Doctor Baldwin,” he said, “have you considered the possibility that the fire here might have been arson?”

  Baldwin’s brows lifted. “No matches or flammable materials of any kind are permitted on the wards. The wiring in these old buildings is quite inadequate. It’s pretty clear the fire started in the wall of the orderly’s room. Unfortunately, it effectively cut the inmates off from escape.”

  “There was no other egress?” Hook asked.

  “Even though we are not a prison, we have to maintain tight security. Too many exits lead to problems.”

  “Then shouldn’t an orderly be on duty at all times, Doctor Baldwin?”

  “Frankie Yager was on duty, but he also made rounds downstairs, where the less troublesome inmates were housed. This never took more than a few minutes.”

  “One orderly for two floors?” Hook asked.

  “Help is very difficult to come by out here, Mr. Runyon, and then with the war. In any case, most people are frightened by mental illness.”

  Hook rose and walked to the window. From there he could see the burned-out building and the fresh grave up on the hill. He could see the young nurse working her way toward the office.

  Baldwin had nailed it. There was something frightening about the mentally ill. With criminals he always knew where he stood. They were the enemy. They wished him harm. He watched his back, and he trusted no one. But here, the rules weren’t clear. These people were not the enemy, though they could be just as dangerous.

  He turned. “Alright, Doctor Baldwin,” he said. “I’ll do what I can, but there are no guarantees.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Runyon. In my business, I’m accustomed to no guarantees.

  “Oh, here’s Nurse Delven now.”

  She smiled at Hook as she came through the door. She struck him as prettier than what he remembered from the funeral, petite, and with a spray of freckles across her nose. Her mouth turned up at its tip, and behind her round glasses were eyes the color of gunmetal.

  “Nurse Delven,” Doctor Baldwin said. “This is Hook Runyon, special agent with the Santa Fe.”

  She held out her bandaged hand and then withdrew it.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I forget.”

  Hook held up his prosthesis. “I’ve carried this chunk of iron around for years, and I still forget sometimes.”

  “We call her Nurse Andrea around here,” Doctor Baldwin said. “She volunteered first among the few to help us out with the move.”

  “Just Andrea,” she said. “Will you be involved in the transfer, Mr. Runyon?”

  “It looks that way,” he said.

  Baldwin came around his desk and put his hand on Hook’s shoulder.

  “Mr. Runyon would like a tour of the place, Andrea. I’ll get someone to cover for you if you’ll show him around.”

  “The security ward, too?” she asked.

  “I’ll arrange for Doctor Helms to be there,” he said.

  “Alright,” she said. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Runyon, I’ll introduce you to Baldwin Insane Asylum.”

  7

  Seth drove back to town at an easy pace and rolled his window down to let in the morning breeze. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be driving, to go somewhere without waiting for a freighter to break on the horizon. He lit a cigarette and turned toward the jungle. Maybe some of the boys would be up and about, and he could show off the company truck.

  Just then he spotted Roy from the jungle coming down the street. He could tell Roy’s walk anywhere. He swung his arms high and dug the heels of his boots in with a thump. Drill sergeants had taught him that. Roy said he’d forgotten how to walk any other way, like he’d been reborn and had learned to walk all over again.

  Roy hailed from Kentucky and hadn’t been anywhere else his whole life until the army took him, though he claimed to have ridden all the way to Louisville once on his sister’s bicycle. When pressed, and when under the influence of busthead liquor, Roy would admit that he didn’t actually go into Louisville but could see Louisville from atop a nearby hill. He said the world’s tallest building resided right there on the banks of the Ohio River, which put Ethan, who had lived in New York City, into a frenzy.

  Seth pulled over, shut the engine off, and waved at Roy to come over.

  “Hey, Seth,” Roy said, pushing the hair from his eyes. “Where’d you get the truck?”

  “It’s a railroad company truck,” Seth said. “They provide this vehicle as a benefit of my employment.”

  Roy dug out an empty pack of cigarettes, crumpled it up, and threw it into the back of the truck.

  “You got a smoke, Seth?”

  Seth rolled his eyes and handed him a cigarette. “Where you going?” he asked.

  “Headed for the still. Got a prime batch just finishing up. Maybe you could give me a lift?”

  “I’m on company business, Roy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Mostly I escort the railroad yard dog to the Baldwin Insane Asylum. Then at night I take him back to the depot.”

  “They let him go home at night?” Roy asked.

  “He’s just working out there, Roy.”

  “I thought you said he was a yard dog?”

  “He is.”

  Roy’s brows, which were like thick bushes, converged over his nose.

  “They have trains in the insane asylum?”

  “No, they don’t have trains. He’s lining up security and such. Goddang it, Roy, the point is I can’t be using the company truck for taking you to your still.”

  Roy lit his cigarette and hooked his arm over the side mirror of the truck.

  “We’re running a tad low on shine down at the jungle,” he said. “Soon enough we’ll all be drinking Barstow river water. Why don’t we just make a quick run, Seth?”

  Seth rocked the steering wheel and looked up at Roy. “I can’t be using the company truck for carrying people to moonshine stills. Stills are illegal, as you well know. Anyway, this is a full-time railroad job. It isn’t like unloading trucks over to the grocery or mowing old man Johnson’s yard.”

  “Maybe some of us boys could hire on with the railroad, too, Seth.”

  “I don’t think so, Roy. It’s professional business, though it wouldn’t hurt to ask, I suppose.”

  “I thought you said you dropped the yard dog off in the morning and picked him up at night?”

  “I did say that. I can say it again if you didn’t hear it the first time.”

  Roy took a drag off his cigarette. He studied the red coal on the end.

  “So what do you do between morning and night?” he asked.

  Seth flipped down the visor. In the dust on the back someone had drawn a picture of Kilroy with his nose over the fence.

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe when it gets hot, I’ll stop in at Barstow Drug for a root beer or drive out to the wigwag crossing and take a nap under the truck. Maybe I’ll visit the mayor or go to the chief of police and tell him about all the asshole cops he’s got on the force. How do I know what I’m going to do?”

  “Jeez, Seth, you don’t have to get so riled up. My still is just out there by the salvage yard. I don’t mind walking in the heat.”

  “Your still is by the salvage yard?”

  “I built it close for supply parts. Them radiators can be damn heavy, especially when you don’t have no company truck to haul things around in.”

  “Alright, goddang it. Your mother should have pinched your goddang head off when you were born. The whole world would be better off. I damn sure would be.”

  Roy came around the truck and got in. “If a man’s got to be in Barstow living under a bridge,” he said, “he ought be t
here with a friend like Seth Durand, a man who’s never uppity, even when he’s driving a company truck.”

  Seth cranked up the engine, checked the side mirror, and pulled off down Main toward the salvage yard.

  Pretty soon Roy said, “It’s been a good long while since I had a root beer.”

  Seth glanced over at Roy. “We’re going to the still, Roy. That’s what you said.”

  “That’s right, the still is where we’re going.” He took out his pocketknife and worked at a nail. “Takes a lot of effort to keep a still up. It’s art, you know, like painting or figurines.”

  “Just don’t think I’m going to do this every time you want to go to your still.”

  “I’m not one to be asking favors,” Roy said, turning his shoe up to pry out the pear cactus thorns in the bottom. “Far be it from me to interfere with your plans. You want a root beer, just go ahead and get one. It won’t bother me a bit.”

  Seth sighed. “You got money for a root beer, Roy?”

  “Hell, Seth, did I ask for one? Anyway, you’re the man with a steady job and a private truck to drive around. I’m just a goddang hillbilly, thanking the Almighty my mother didn’t pinch off my head while I lay in the cradle.”

  Seth whipped a U-turn and pulled in at Barstow Drug. They went in, and he ordered two mugs of root beer. Roy drank his down and then watched Seth drink his. Finally, Seth ordered him a second round so he wouldn’t stare anymore. After that, they drove past the salvage yard and, from there, down a dirt road to Roy’s still, which he’d tucked back in an arroyo.

  “What do you do when it rains?” Seth asked, looking over the steering wheel.

  “It don’t rain in Barstow.”

  Seth got out and examined the still, which Roy had fashioned from a Buick radiator.

  “Then how did this arroyo get here?” he asked.

  “It’s always been here, Seth. Any fool knows that.”

  Roy drew a sampling of the run and handed it to Seth.

  Seth looked into the cup before shooting it down. Tears welled in his eyes.

  “Good God,” he said.

  Roy filled the cup again and took a swig himself, swishing the liquid around and around in his mouth. A red blush crept down his neck and disappeared beneath his collar.

  “Just right,” he said. “There’s a case of canning jars over there. I’ll do a draw.”

  When finished, Roy said, “Damn, there’s one jar too many. It won’t fit into the box.”

  Seth walked around the jar and then looked over at Roy.

  “Guess we could dump it,” he said.

  “I know men been shot for dumping busthead,” Roy said.

  “We could put it back in the still,” Seth said.

  “Taint’s up. Just as well dump it.”

  “We could carry it in the front of the truck,” Seth said.

  “I knew a man once who broke a quart of shine in his truck,” Roy said. “It was a sad thing.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ignition set it off. Burned him alive. When they opened the door, he just crumbled away into a pile of ashes.”

  “Well, I don’t want something like that on my conscience,” Seth said.

  “Be hard to live with alright,” Roy said, picking up the quart and holding it against the light. “Guess the only thing to do is drink it.”

  “I suppose that’s the right thing,” Seth said.

  Roy unscrewed the lid and took a pull before handing it over to Seth.

  “Shine in and yeller out,” Roy said. “Like dawn and dusk on the Mojave.”

  When they had drained the last drop, they sat the empty quart on top of the still and loaded the box of quarts into the back of the truck.

  Seth got in on the passenger side and waited for Roy to get in.

  “It’s your goddang company truck, Seth.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Seth said, getting out and going back around to the driver’s side.

  Roy fumbled for a cigarette. Not finding one, he said, “Got a smoke?”

  Seth took one for himself and tossed the package to Roy.

  Seth looked at his watch. “That yard dog is a little short on the fuse,” he said. “I ought get on.”

  “I had a rail dick throw me off a doubleheader at thirty miles an hour,” Roy said. “The son of a bitch didn’t even look back.”

  Seth said, “I broke into a caboose over at Needles looking for something to eat. Came nose to nose with the meanest dog I ever saw, and a crazy man chased me halfway to Barstow in his underwear.”

  “I knew a preacher once what kissed rattlesnakes,” Roy said. “He claimed it upped the plate donations and made the girls damp.”

  “The thing is, I’ve reason to believe it was the same railroad bull I’m working for now, Roy. I think he knew who I was when he offered me this job.”

  “Well, there’s no figuring yard dogs or preachers neither one,” Roy said.

  “Oh, hell,” Seth said, looking around. “I’ve lost the damn truck keys.”

  “They’re in your hand,” Roy said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Seth said.

  “Listen,” Roy said. “I’m running short on corn for the still. I spotted a couple of boxcars on a siding out by the army base and popped the seal, just for a look, you know. Hundred-pound sacks of Iowa corn were stacked clean to the roof. Course, without a truck there wasn’t much could be done but leave them there.”

  “Those boxcars are for the army-base mess, Roy.”

  Roy squashed out his cigarette and shrugged. “It’s not like we haven’t done our duty for the army, Seth, fighting Germans, sacrificing for our country, and them leaving us to starve under a bridge. A couple-three of those sacks off the top, and we’d be set for a good long while.

  “We could drive down the right of way, come in from the back, and no one would ever know.”

  “This a company truck, Roy. I can’t be stealing corn in a company truck.”

  Roy rolled down his window and hooked his elbow out. “I suppose a man with a full-time job can afford store-bought liquor. Course, the rest of us just have to do without, though it’s about all we got left in the world.”

  Seth swung the key back and forth on his finger. “How long do you figure it would take?”

  “An hour. No more.”

  Seth looked at his watch again. “Just so it’s understood that I’m doing this for the boys.”

  By cutting onto the right of way at the wigwag, they could drive behind the sided cars, thus blocking the view from the base, which lay beyond the security fence. They eased out of the truck and climbed into the back.

  “She’s still open,” Roy said, pushing the door of the boxcar back.

  “I’ll give you a leg up,” Seth said, locking his fingers together. Roy boosted up and scaled the sacks like a mountain climber. Within moments, five sacks were stacked in the truck.

  Once back in, Seth dropped her into reverse and brought her about. They were nearly to the crossing when a military jeep appeared in Seth’s rearview mirror.

  “We’ve been tagged,” Seth said. “They must have spotted the broken seal and figured some fool would be back.”

  Seth pushed the pedal to the floor. The truck engine roared, and black smoke drifted skyward. When he looked again, the jeep had dropped behind a hill.

  Just then the turnoff to the still presented itself. Seth slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel hard as he could. The truck slid sideways, down into the ditch, and up onto the road again. Shoving her into second, he goosed her hard, and they careened behind the salvage-yard fence before coming to a stop.

  They waited, listening to the jeep as it went on down the road. Seth dropped his head against the steering wheel.

  “I got a notion to break your leg and leave you to die in this junkyard, Roy.”

  “How was I to know they’d be waiting, Seth? The goddang army don’t ever mind their supplies. If it’s stole, they just get more.”

  Seth checked his watch. “Le
t’s get this corn unloaded. I got to get back for that yard dog.”

  After unloading the sacks, they covered them with an old car hood that Roy had dragged in. They smoked a cigarette and waited to make certain that the soldiers hadn’t circled back. After that, Seth pulled out on the road and checked his rearview mirror.

  “Looks like we’ve lost them,” he said.

  “Glad those boys aren’t fighting Germans,” Roy said. “We’d be drinking beer and dancing the polka.”

  “I can’t be taking this shine to the jungle in broad daylight, Roy.”

  “I got an oil drum buried on the riverbank just past the stockyards,” Roy said. “I keep my extra stash there, and it ain’t that far from the jungle. Turn up there,” he said.

  Seth turned down a rough path that led to the river. Roy held his hand against the roof of the truck to keep from hitting his head, and when they came to the top of a slope, Seth pulled up.

  “Too goddang steep,” he said. “We’ll have to carry it the rest of the way.”

  Turning the truck about, Seth backed it up to the lip of the slope and set the hand brake.

  It took half an hour and a load switch before they reached the bottom. Seth checked his watch again.

  “So where is this barrel, Roy?”

  Roy turned and said something. Seth knew this because he could see his lips moving. But he never understood what it was Roy said. A screeching noise rode down into the valley and drowned him out. It sounded like a giant winged bird or the hot brakes of a runaway train charging down grade.

  At that moment Seth and Roy looked up to see the company truck plunging toward the river in a cloud of dust.

  8

  Hook fell in beside Andrea as they walked across the compound. She guided him onto the sidewalk. She smelled of Juicy Fruit.

  “Here we are,” she said. “As you can see, they’ve put the women in the tent.”

  The inmates’ faces were pale from lack of sun, and they wore plain cotton dresses with no belts or accessories. Rocking chairs, on which some of the women rocked, lined the perimeter of the tent.