Simon Pure, Page 2

enough that as I hit the ground I felt the impact run up through my legs. The station was at least six blocks up the street and I’d need to run most of the way if I wanted to make one of the last trains out tonight. Part of my first lessons had been to memorize the train schedules. Back then I’d thought it was boring work.

  Despite the fire, Main Street station was business as usual. There were enough people milling around that I blended in and disappeared. I was just another person heading out to work in another town or on the train itself. Maybe I’d saved up and had just enough to get out of this place or I was carrying someone’s bag for them. No one stopped me as I approached the desk and paid for a ticket.

  As I sat onto a bench to wait, ticket held tightly in my right hand, I could feel my entire body starting to shake. Maybe it had always been shaking and I just hadn’t noticed it before. I wanted to throw up again but I told myself I might miss the train if I did. I swallowed my nerves and took a deep breath. No one would find me. When they realized I was gone, it would be too late. I’d already be halfway there. I’d be halfway to the West.

  “All aboard!”

  I came out of my thoughts and realized most of the people who had been standing around me were now boarding the train. A group had gathered at the far side of the building, all of them waiting to be let out onto the loading platform.

  I’d never traveled before. I felt awkward beside the men and women dressed in tailored travelling clothes. Not many were wearing work clothes like I was. I decided to let them file through first before I went. I didn’t want to draw a lot of attention to myself. When the gang came looking for me I didn’t want anyone in this station to know I’d been here.

  “Ticket please,” the collector asked as I approached the main line. He’d come away from another ticket collector to specifically demand my passage rights. Normally I’d have given him a dirty look for such signaling out, but not today. I fished out my ticket and handed it over without so much as a word.

  “California?” He asked. “That’s a long way from here, young man.” The collector sifted through the three papers before tucking them back into the envelope and offering it back to me.

  “Going for work,” I said, tucking the ticket back into my coat.

  “Go on, then.”

  I walked past him and didn’t look back. The line of passengers had cleared since then, leaving the doorway up onto the first train car clear. I grabbed the rail and hefted myself up, pulling the carpetbag with me. It felt like a lead weight dragging at my arm, a lead weight that caught everyone’s attention. I needed to get it stored inside my car as soon as I could.

  The ticket was in my hand again, my eyes scanning for the car I’d been assigned to. I began to pass open doors to passenger rooms that were already filled with people. This one held a couple sitting close together admiring the furnishings. Another car held a small family, two kids pressed against the windows as they waved toward people outside on the platform.

  “Sixty-five,” I kept chanting under my breath. I didn’t need the ticket anymore so I put it away again. I wanted to protect it. The ticket felt like a lifeline to my freedom.

  As I got closer to the middle of the train, the rooms became more and more vacant. I slowed my pace and began to investigate these spaces. If I was going to blend in, I needed new clothes. Each room held a small storage space, two or three bunks, and a bench style seat along the window. The trouble was that none of these had the space to store the kind of trunks that held clothes. I needed to find the baggage car.

  I found room sixty-five shortly after this realization. I didn’t have any baggage, none aside from the carpetbag. I tossed it onto the seat bench and dragged the sliding door closed to my room. After making sure it was locked, I turned to find a good spot to hide my bag. If I was looking to go through someone’s bags, someone else might be looking to do the same. I couldn’t trust anyone.

  The small storage place was too obvious. I spotted a small set of panels beneath one of the bunks and decided that was as good a place as any. With the help of my knife, I popped the panel loose and discovered a nice little pocket that was just big enough to stuff the carpetbag in. I quickly stored my new bag and gently forced the panel back in place- nothing looked tampered with or damaged. It was perfect. With one problem out of the way, I rose to my feet to address another. My wardrobe.

  The front portion of the train turned out to be mostly seating galleries, dining cars and spaces for socializing. That meant the tail end of the train had to be for the workers and the cargo. It didn’t take me long to find it and most of the train staff were hard at work serving the people as they were getting settled. As I approached the baggage car I paused to watch the staff as they loaded up goods.

  “Hey! You there, what are you doing?”

  I turned around and removed my hands from my pockets. It seemed like the most logical thing to do.

  “This damned car ain’t goin’ to load itself. Get off your ass and start grabbing crates before I fire you!” He pointed toward a crate to my right and then turned to bark orders at someone else. I could hear him shouting about ‘bad help.’

  “Convenient,” I said to myself as I hefted up the crate and made my way into the stuffed car. It was wall-to-wall crates, trunks, and large canvas bags. Toward the back I could see huge cages filled with small livestock. Once the crate I was holding was stored, I made my way deeper into the baggage cart to search for one of the leather trunks.

  I needed to find one that looked masculine. I could easily spot the Ladies’ trunks. One had a floral pattern. Another bore a shade of mauve in the case binding and a small leather tag at the handle that read ‘Sarah Ann’. Those weren’t going to help me. By the time I spotted a deep brown trunk I was sweating.

  The train cars in the back didn’t have much ventilation. They didn’t need it. What windows they did possess were toward the back where the livestock was being kept. I worked as quickly as I could, dragging the heavy trunk down to pop the lock. I did this sort of thing for a living. I started jimmying my blade beneath the gold clasp and with a twist of my wrist the front snapped off, releasing the mechanism keeping it closed. Just as I was reveling in victory, I heard a set of heavy footsteps to my right.

  “Where is the other guy?” It was the taskmaster from earlier.

  “Other guy?” I didn’t recognize this one. He must have been part of the actual team loading the baggage car.

  “Yeah, the one that was carrying in the crate!” He replied. “I swear, next time I’m going to be the one who hires these guys. You got a bunch of idiots!”

  I was frozen in place. They sounded close enough that if I rose up from my hiding spot I expected to be right behind them. I could feel a drop of sweat sliding down my back, the sensation making my skin crawl.

  “Forget it. That was the last one. Let’s get out of here before the lineman gets in my face again. We’re already running late.” I heard one set of footsteps begin to fade away.

  “Yeah, yeah. You still owe me a drink for this!” The second set of footsteps followed and once again it was quiet.

  I exhaled a breath. My hands grabbed the lid of the trunk and tossed it back, hoping it was filled with clothes. The contents did not disappoint. Everything was folded neatly and in different piles weighted with a trunk spades. I tossed them all aside, the heavy metal thumping against the interior of the trunk. I grabbed a few pairs of slacks, some shirts, a jacket, and ties. I took some of everything. I had no idea what I needed to get. I sat all of this to the side and topped it off with a pair of dress shoes. I could manage with these. Now, I just needed a small bag.

  It didn’t take me long to pinch another carpetbag. I dumped the stuff inside into the man’s trunk and closed the lid, snapping the lock back down and rigging it closed. It would do for now. No one could tell it had been popped unless they inspected it closely.

  I decided I needed to change. I shed my street clothes and stuffed them into the bag first. F
rom the collection of new clothes I managed to get together a makeshift traveling wardrobe. It wasn’t the best, but it was much better than what I’d been wearing. I shoved the rest of the clothes into the bag and made my way toward the main doors.

  Something flashed in the corner of my eye, forcing me to stop. A mirror had been brought on board, tall enough that it required a wooden frame to be built around it for stability. I stepped over toward it and pulled aside the protective cloth that had begun to slip away, taking a look at myself.

  The clothes didn’t fit me exactly, but it was close enough. I was still a growing boy. I’d fit into them eventually. For now, it looked as if I wanted to save on money so I’d gotten them made just a little bigger than I was ready for at the moment.

  “Not bad, Benjamin,” I said. I sat the bag down in a crate and took a moment to slick my hair back. Once it was out of my face, I started to look ‘respectable’. I flashed myself a smile and turned to leave, bag in hand again.

  There were two cars between the cargo area and the start of the lounge rooms. The first one I entered appeared to be little more than a men’s smoking area. It was empty at the moment and I moved quickly through it. The second room was wall to wall with shelves. As soon as I closed the door behind myself and began moving toward the