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    Children of the Railroad
    Children of the Railroad
    Children of the Railroad
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    Children of the Railroad

    By Brian Krul

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    About this ebook

    Five young misfits, ages 14 to 23, stuck in a small town with nothing positive in sight take to the tracks and head to a new home. Striped is the one responsible for the trip, and is the guide and mediator of every situation…mostly unruly incidents.

    The personalities of Seth, Shane, and Vince have all different quirks which have to be monitored. Troy being the youngest at 14 needs extra protection and motivation. Then there's the outside world…

    They trek on, staring from the societal exo-skeleton, and go inside to champion the giants in a cold world. Friends and comradries are made, as generosity and sympathetic peoples offer relief, work, and shelter.

    Conflicts are also met in many high crime areas. Also by small town law enforcement, and other shady types on the outskirts of society. After a death due to a mishap during a fight Vince encountered on his way back from seeing a friend off, the course changes into a journey they were not prepared for.

    Later on, they are stuck fending for themselves in environments they are foreign to. They adapt, they survive, but the entrance home comes with a cost…and the doorkeepers are many.

    Is happily ever after too good to obtain?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateApr 3, 2019
    ISBN9781543968347
    Children of the Railroad

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      Book preview

      Children of the Railroad - Brian Krul

      Arrival

      Chapter 1

      Point A: Let’s Blow This Town

      Once upon a boring existence in a small town surrounded by farms, were five young disenfranchised men. Indeed…they were cocky. These kind were either loved or hated; mostly hated…but often admired.

      Walking together down the tracks, their black heads swayed and bounced with defiant percussion. Shiny locks waving like flags down their backs. And among these five were: Striped-23 yrs, Seth-19 yrs, Vince-18 yrs, Shane-17 yrs, Troy-14 yrs. As an onlooker, one might think they were blood related; especially in the way they treated each other…and soon, their loyalty would be tested in the most profound of ways.

      It was mid-Fall, mid-week, and middle of the month. The plan: to get out of town for good. Getting there: by freight train and foot. Where: a few of Striped’s friend’s mountain property in deep Montana with a hidden community full of cabins.

      They would head to Point A for the last time; which was the back of the liquor store, their main destination for loitering. The air wreaked of second-hand smoke and dumpster trash, but the vibe was one of liberty, as they were only here to discuss leaving the vapor walls they were confined to.

      All  major preparations were taken care of, so there wasn’t much left to discuss, only confirm.

      Troy: Everything set?

      Striped: Yep, three duffle bags full. Bring a backpack if you plan on bringing extras.

      Shane: You mean you won’t miss all these hotels and casinos here? What about the rodeo, not man enough for it, Troy [laughs]?

      Troy: If your jokes disappeared, I wouldn’t miss that.

      Seth: Striped, the weapons?

      Striped: Got em’, everything on the list.

      Shane: Guns?

      Striped: I brought mine.

      Shane: Where’s mine at?

      Striped: The duffle bag is free reign, but the steel stays with me.

      Shane: I got some steel for ya [grabs crotch].

      Vince: You ever use that cap gun before, Shane?

      Shane: Is your ass really dirty, or you forget to brush before talking shit today?

      Troy: [sighs] We leave two days from now? Friday…5:30?

      Striped: Yeah, you know the place, the well house. We’ll hit the tracks just across the street.

      Shane: Goodbye Corning!

      Right as they were picking up their belongings and about to scram, the welcoming/farewell party showed up via four guys, five girls, two cars, one white, one gray; pulling up to the drive-thru diagonally across from them. The engines revved up with gas pedal taunting while giggling and gesturing between the autos ensued. The driver of the front white car locked eyes with Vince.

      Then the blonde, spiky-haired, clean cut letter man blurted why don’t you bitches get haircuts? Vince lashed back with but your bitches like our hair. Vince, with his audacity to hit on other people’s women frequently, looked straight at the instigator’s passenger. She then blushed and tilted her head down without the security of her tightly pulled back brown hair. Doors burst open as Shane launched the remainder of his open soda bottle and wet the windshield of the car; causing a splash  on the letter man’s right sleeve. After a few choice words from both sides, the store owner came out. "

      All of you’s get out-a’ here ‘fore I call tha cops! After a few more random insults, the guys hopped on their skateboards as they heard the sirens getting closer. Looks like someone else beat him to the call replied Seth in a it figures" kind of tone. The troops sped off down the dark street as their wheels clacked onward, fading into a distant silence.

      The day came. It was Friday night and they were leaving. Hopping freights was somewhat of a past-time with these five. What was new was that they wouldn’t be back that night to a warm bed; they would never be back after tonight.

      To the tracks they marched. All things were left behind; all goodbyes(or no goodbyes) were said. The sun’s dying fire was on a clouded sky. It beamed red, orange, and purple underneath the overhead night shade. Green, yellow, and red were the only colors these guys were watching for, though. Standing far off in a mysterious pose was the lens to their signal. The light was red and that meant only one thing…their ride out of town was near.

      Around the corner it shouted: horns blazing, wheels clicking; then slowly stopping; slower, slower…stop. Minutes seemed like torture as railroad security looked through each open freight car. When the coast was finally clear the train slowly started moving. No time to worry about being seen or heard running to the train; any slight delays and this ride would tug away. They ran over metal remnants and large lava rocks; chasing the train as if hell itself was after them. They grabbed, tugged, and slid into the metal rectangle. The sounds of heavy breathing collaborated with the rattling boxcar. Silence broke with hoots and hollers after a near peak of 50 mph; which quickly escalated to around 75 mph.

      Shane had brought his wrist-rocket, and thought it would be fun to shoot marbles at everything that seemed target worthy. This fun didn’t last long when Striped reprimanded him for it, warning that hitting the wrong thing could result in getting the train stopped. Sometimes you just never knew what Shane was going to say or do, but whatever he did, it was always for a laugh.

      They joked, laughed, and played around as they rode all through the night. The train stopped a little after 3 am; the time between night and day; the hour when the night is over and morning hasn’t officially begun. It was dead quiet out. You could hear every cricket chirp, every moving thing in the brush. The guys carefully evaded the RxR police and crept into the small, quiet town.

      They came across a neighborhood park and decided to rest for a minute…but not until Shane got to the playground. Here he was, this husky 6 foot, 4 and ½ inch tall guy jumping on the slides, jumping off the swings, and yelling loud enough to make the dogs bark from their backyards. In the distance was what seemed to be a shaky flashlight coming their way. It was park security. The boys ran across one side of the park to the other, having the street at their back for a full-proof

      getaway. The officer would run-stop-run again, and repeat six times before the prank got old enough to stay funny. From there, they trekked to find the next set of tracks and a place to pitch their tent.

      The hillside was as black as the sky. Low level lighting and rickety old houses haunted the venture. Steps echoed through the streets and the still, stiff air. As the men crossed over the hill, the darkness would become uncooperative. Trying not to be seen, they would only do light flickering of their flashlights. The

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