The Hobo Kingdom: A Chase of Blood on Steel Read online

  “Too easy the ones around here fly in circles.”

  “Ha, that’s a good one.”

  They came up to the filling station, it had two pumps, regular and ethyl. It was a flat topped white wooden building with a fake front and a sign that read Texaco Oil. Its front was freshly painted but the sides showed spots of wood; wind-sanded since its last new coat. They entered the front door; it opened into a front room with a counter that held a black cash register. Behind the counter the wall held fan belts and oil cans and a calendar with a pretty girl leaning against a three year old Buick. The place smelled of rubber and oil and grease. Against another wall sat a red metal chest with Coca-Cola swirling in white across the front. Denny lifted the lid and cold air drifted out the top. Bottles of ice cold Coca-Cola, Dad’s Root Beer and Orange Crush hung in racks. To the right was a coin slot.

  “You got a dime” Denny licked his lips looking at Glen.

  “No, you?”

  “What do you kids want?” a big bearded man in greasy blue work clothes stepped into the room from the garage in back, a wrench in one hand and a rag in the other.

  “Nothing,” Glen and Denny were a chorus.

  “Well close that chest and get outta here then, this garage is no place for kids.”

  “Yes, sir.” They turned back out the front door and followed County 6 north about twenty yards to the rail tracks.

  “I should go home,” said Glen staring at the tracks.

  “What? It’s just a half block down there!” Denny pointed further west along the tracks.

  “How do we get there?”

  ‘We’ll just walk down the tracks and jump off when we get there.”

  “Walk on the tracks?”

  “Come on. You can see a train can’t you? If one comes we’ll just get off the tracks. OK?”

  “Well”, walking on the tracks wasn’t crossing was it?

  “It’s not far.”

  Walking on the tracks was not natural. The ties caused you to take baby steps or giant steps. They alternated each. Glen slipped once and grabbed the rail to get his balance.

  “Ouch, it’s hot!”

  “Don’t touch em then.”

  To the right across a deep, weed filled ditch was a heavy thicket of brush over ten feet tall.

  “It’s here. See the opening in the brush?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Denny, you been here before?”

  “No, but I heard some others talking about it.”

  “I don’t think we should go in.”

  “Come on, there’s no one here. Let’s have a look.”

  CHAPTER 4

  A train whistle blew east of town.

  “Come on, there’s a train coming.”

  They jumped off the track and slid down the steep bank to the edge of the thicket. Denny pushed through the opening and they stepped into a cave. Its walls on the track side were green leaves and branches, once inside the other walls were formed from tightly pressed pine. The floor was a bowl carved from the ground about twenty feet across. It was covered with leaves and pine needles so thick that Glen sank almost to his ankles. A couple of fallen trees had been stripped of branches to make benches around a fire pit in the center of the bowl. Some old rusty coffee cans were scattered as were glass bottles of clear and green and brown. Some bottles wore labels, others were washed clean. Glen saw one that read Old Crow.

  The train chugged past and they could hear the sound of heavy bodies jumping, landing and sliding at warp speed toward the opening which they had just stepped though.

  “What the hell you kids doing in here.” A boy not much older than fifteen burst into the camp. His knife draw like a rattlesnake coils to strike, body clenched, eyes piercing.

  “Hold it right there York, just fuckin’ kids, don’t need killing.” A giant of a man followed York. He was sheathing his own knife; it was huge.

  Two more men quickly entered after the giant, slowly circling Glen and Denny.

  “They seen us, Two Trains.” York said, rolling his knife handle from hand to hand, the blade gleaming even in the jungle shadows.

  “What of it, you that famous that they’re posting your pictures at the Post Office now?” Two Trains Running was six foot six inches tall and two hundred forty plus pounds of angry muscle.

  “Don’t like no loose ends…you taught me that.”

  “God damn it York put that shiv away, you kids get the hell outta here, before you turn into loose ends. GO!” Two Trains Running threw his arms up over his head, waving like a bird flaps its wings, herding the boys out the gap.

  “Run Denny!” Glen rushed out the jungle door, a river raging through the gap, a froth of arms and legs jumping and climbing through the undergrowth that lined the railroad embankment.

  “I’m here.” Denny was right behind, giving Glen a boost up to gain the tracks more quickly.

  They found that at a dead run the spacing of the railroad ties was just right for twelve year old boys. They tore up Hwy 6 to the intersection with the highway and veered left to the town, racing past the filling station as they crossed the road and skidded to a halt at the bottom of the south ditch. The ditch was deep and they were hidden from sight of anyone on the tracks or following the ditch on the other side of the highway.

  “Whoa! You almost got us killed.” Glen was shaking.

  “Did not, they was just scaring us.” Denny was trying hard to hide the tremble.

  “Well, it worked for me, goll, I think that kid would a hurt us bad.

  “Nah, that giant was in charge, you heard him.”

  “Sure, did you see the kids look, did you see that knife, and did you see his eyes?” Glen demanded Denny to focus.

  “Yah, Ok, but we got away, its fine…” Denny was rationalizing.

  “That was bad, that was why not to cross the tracks, I gotta go before I’m late.” Glen turned and ran, across the woodland field to home, dust and leaping grasshoppers a quickly vanishing trace of the path he chose.

  “See you tomorrow!” Denny yelled after, but Glen did not turn to respond or even to wave, he just vanished in the dust and tall prairie grasses.

  CHAPTER 5

  “York, go see what you can see…food, booze, you know the deal.” Two Trains Running pointed to the jungle entry, waving York to action. “Dave, you’n Cash see what the camp holds,” Two Trains arm circled the ring, “I’ll get a fire started.”

  “Yes, Massah,” York saluted and headed for the entry.

  “Screw you.” Two Trains shouted at the branches flapping in the backdraft of York’s departure.

  York scanned the horizon, the top of his head barely showing above the rigidly straight line of the steel rails on their gravel bed, his hands grabbing iron, Kilroy here in the middle of nowhere. His eyes roamed from the right, slowly, like a turkey vulture soaring on the heat drafts, searing images to retina, nostrils wide. His gaze stopped to the left; filling station, nose flared, petrol; money. He cataloged the worn white structure, seeing food, drink and dollars… “

  “I hope the guy don’t live there,” he said to himself, “or maybe not, it’ll be blood everywhere.” York smiled and went to report back.

  Socrates locked the front door of his station office pulling down the Venetian blind which covered the half window. He turned to the pop machine and dropped a dime, dragging a Coke through the iron maze of captivity, pulled the bottle free. Popped the top on the bottle opener attached to the front of the machine and heard the tinny rustling as it plopped to the loosed pile below, it was a happy sound. He walked to the cash register to count the day’s earnings before depositing it in the bank on the way home. Over the years he had learned to take all of his earnings and change bank home with him at the days end, he locked all his hand tools in steel cabinets. He figured that being fifty yards from the rail tracks put his station at some risk. Socrates had hopped the train’s home from California after Korea and knew that the tracks hauled just as much
bad as good. Many times he had witnessed the bums jumping to the hobo jungle no more than a quarter mile from his door. Better safe than not.

  “The guy’s gone at the gas place,” York slid through the bushy doorway, pointing over his shoulder toward the station.

  “Be dark soon,” Two Trains nodded, “That the only joint?”

  “All I could see, town’s a couple blocks further back, you want I should go check?”

  “Nah, we’ll hit the station after dark, nothing there we’ll try the town maybe but I been through here before, just a dead end spot, we shoulda wanted to jump in Clairton.”

  “You said here…”

  “Yeah, I know, I thought we was closer to the city. We can catch out if we come up empty. Plenty of trains run this route. Any of you got anything to eat, we’ve got time to burn.” Two Trains looked to the rucksacks hoping for a can a beans at least.

  “Come on its dark enough,” York was waving toward the tracks, the beans barely covering the bottom of his empty gut.

  “Alright, let’s do it,” Two Trains stood from the bench checking his belt adjusting his knife, its leather grip easy to grab.

  Dave and Cash followed Two Trains from the coniferous cave. In minutes they were at the Gas Station’s front door, the Texaco sign at the corner of the lot was dark, no lights shown from the building interior. Both the highway and intersecting road were empty, quiet summer night on the outskirts of a quiet little town…ripe for picking.

  “Around back, let’s see if there’s another door,” Two Trains pointed around the side. Half way down the length of the building were a side entry door and two big garage doors, ten feet tall at least.

  “Locked.” York twisted at the entry door knob.

  “Same here,” Cash tugged on one garage door.

  “Me too,” Dave pulled up on the other to no avail.

  “Step back, York, I got the key right here,” Two Trains Running kicked at the wooden six panel door with all of the force that six foot six inches carrying two hundred and fifty pounds could muster…it was more than enough. The deadbolt did not fail, the door did, its frame on the lock side; a jagged half-moon chunk missing like a shark’s bite torn loose and spat on the floor.

  “I’ll check the front.” York turned left.

  “We’re right behind you, guys check the garage; here’s a light.” Two Trains flipped a switch on the wall. They all knew what to take; food, booze and cash money. If you couldn’t haul it on your back full time, leave it be.

  Two Trains turned to the sound of breaking glass…

  “Damn it,” York was pushing jagged shards of show case glass aside at the back of the counter that held the cash register; the register’s drawer was open.

  “Where’s the money?” Two Trains peered at the empty cash drawer.

  “None,” York was grabbing hands full of the candy bars, gum and mints from the case.

  “What, see a safe?”

  “Nope.”

  “Shit,” Two Trains scanned the store and strode to the Coke machine while screaming. “Dave, Cash, bring a pry bar or something, now!”

  “Here you go Two,” Cash held a single tire iron in his outstretched hand, “Nothing back there, some locked cabinets but you can see in…just tools, nothing for us.

  “Dammit, lot a risk for nothing,” Two Trains pried the top off the coin mechanism in the pop machine, couple bucks maybe, all dimes.

  “I’ll take a Coke,” York reached out with his left hand, the right one holding a Baby Ruth bar to his mouth.

  “Shit, might as well, what flavor you bums want,” Two Trains looked at Cash and Dave.

  “Dad’s root beer,” Cash quick to respond.

  “Me too.” Dave agreed.

  Two Trains pulled the sodas from the well and grabbed an Orange Crush for himself. “Take a couple more if you want, we better get out of here.” He swiped another orange for himself and headed out the back.

  The four of them crossed back to the tracks looking toward the town, another quarter mile walk for what, maybe nothing.

  “We’ll hitch the next train west and be in St Paul by morning,” Two Trains started the jaunt back to the jungle, “let’s get out of this wood tick town.”

  “There’s a whistle.” Cash sat up, it was just shy of midnight.

  “Nope, eastbound,” Two Trains lay back against the stripped tree trunk that he was using as a recliner, listening as the train pulled past.

  “Geronimo, Wahoo, This is it boys.”

  They heard the sounds of feet landing and bodies tumbling and a dirty, dusty guy pushed through the opening in the brush. He was followed by two others. The first guy was a little over five and a half feet tall, maybe five – eight, and skinny with eyes that pushed out and bagged underneath, he looked like forty years packed into twenty. Next came a balding grayhair, he was tall and trim, his ring of gray, long and tied in a ponytail, he was dusting his clothing with a canvas fedora hat. The last was a man over six feet tall, sturdy built, maybe two hundred pounds, probably more, shoulders for the world, wearing a conductor’s cap restraining thick, brown hair.

  “Well look at this. Hobo’s in the jungle.” The first spoke.

  “Hello gentlemen,” The old guy doffed his hat speaking softly but clearly.

  “Due North here, Marv and Big” The conductor’s hat spoke with a voice ragged with trail dust and rail rust while pointing at himself before gesturing toward his two companions.

  “Yeah, heard of you guys,” Two Trains Running was on his feet as he had been since the ‘Geronimo’ cry had pierced the night. His knife handle posed for quick release.

  “This here is York and Dave and Cash.”

  “And we of you Two Trains, Dave and Cash.” Marv nodded in each their directions as he stated their names.

  “But not York,” Big pointed and posed an aggressive stance, a hard stare; to match theirs…an attempt at a hardened look.

  “York the Shark to you; what is it Big? Should be Little…” York started a reach for his blade as they all heard the whistle of the next train, it was westbound.

  “Keep it sheathed York, nice to meet you boys, let’s mount up men, train a comin’.” Two Trains gauged the new trio’s response as he scooped up his pack. No aggression except from the two boys, so he pushed a reluctant York to the passage way.

  “I’ll see you soon, Little,” York howled backwards.

  “We’ll see who’s Little then Snarky.” Big threw it back.

  “By god Big, you got one right.” Marv’s face was the look of astonishment.

  “I meant to say Sharky, it just came out wrong.”

  “Or in this case, right. He was a snarky little hoodlum.” Marv turned from Big to Due North. “Two Trains Running and that group will soon be on the list.”

  “I know Marv, just thinking that myself. Let’s eat and get some sleep, busy day tomorrow, I hope.”

  “What’s snarky mean Marv?” Big wondered what he got right.

  “Sarcastic, impertinent, snappish.”

  “Ok, ok, got it. He was that, goll dang,” Big smiled.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Never mind, I guess it’s your turn,” Glen sat down in the odd man out spot at the picnic table.

  “That’s right, won her fair and square,” Denny grinned across the table while his left arm formed a shield around the island of brown paper that moored his sandwich to the table on the small chance that he would set it down. With no other diversions on his plate that rarely happened.

  “Here have a slurp,” Glen offered the freshly opened carton of milk. “Just a slurp,” he could see that Denny’s lunch was already half gone.

  “K,” Denny took a sip and handed it back while Glen unfolded the flap of his Baggie of potato chips and poured some on Glen’s flattened bag.

  “Like I told you yesterday, I can never talk to you again, so don’t even try.”

  “K”

  “You ain’t even gonna try.”

  “Nope”


  “Cause?”

  “Cause you got scared yesterday, my fault, thought it was ok.”

  “Did not.”

  “What.”

  “Get scared.”

  “Did too.”

  “So’d you!”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too!”

  “Ok.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Ok, let’s go gopher hunting after school…I got my sling and pea rock and maybe we’ll see some flying squirrels.”

  “Won’t; no flying squirrels in the fields, just gophers.”

  “Ok, we’ll go after school then, see you at the bell.” Denny stood crumpling his bag to a tight ball and walked away tossing it in the air as he sauntered back to the St Mary’s of the Woods building.

  “No answer, she works…don’t know where, maybe still Ben Franklin.” Due North tried the front door of the little house, it swung open with a squeak. He stepped in.

  “We’ll wait here Big,” Marv turned nonchalantly raising his hand above his shoulder and leaning to the door frame, home owner talking to a neighbor.

  “I wanna go with Due.”

  “No.”

  “Could be food.” Big nodding his head like, ‘you know what I mean?’

  ‘Precisely why we’ll wait here, would you like to start stealing from mothers in need now?” Marv was not happy at the thought.

  “Course not…whatta ya think, who could say, god dang it that’s not what I’m saying.”

  “What are you saying Big?” Marv had been down this road before.

  “Well…in case Due needed help, or needed help…”

  “You already said that.”

  “See, that’s what I’m saying, no use going in there,” Big waved his thumb toward the house, “mize well keep you company out here, case you know…anything happens here. You spectin’ anything Marv?”

  “No, let’s be quiet while Stosh checks it out.

  “Stosh?”