“I can take care of myself.”
“No offense, but you’d have a tough time handling parts of Vancouver, let alone Surrey. Anyway, there’s no way you can bike it right now.”
“Why not?”
“There’s only one practical way to get to Surrey by bike. They call it the Corridor – a wide ridge with lots of open space where it’s easy to avoid an ambush. It’s dangerous, but if you know your way around and you’ve got some street smarts, you can pass through safely most of the time.
“Trouble is, a couple of days ago a major gang war broke out. Two of the biggest outfits in the city are fighting for control of smuggling through the Corridor. The place is overrun with gangsters that’ll kill anything that moves. Right now, you’d be dead the second you set foot in there.”
Richard’s gut tightened. “Is it possible that’s what happened to Danny?”
“Possible,” said Keller, “but I doubt it. If Danny’s been spending any time in Surrey he’ll be smart enough to avoid the Corridor when there’s a war going on.”
“How long will this war last?”
“They never last long – probably not more than a few days. But if you want to go to Surrey right now you’re not going to make it by bike.”
“I can’t wait a few days.”
Keller stared at him. “Are you sure you’ve explored every other possibility?”
“I’ve looked everywhere I could think of in Vancouver. I’ve called the Missing Children hotlines and checked all the runaway shelters and hospitals. I’ve talked to the police. I’ve followed up every clue I could find here in town. The only one I have left is the journal, and everything in the journal points to Surrey. But if I can’t get through the Corridor…”
Keller studied the inside of his teacup. Finally he said, “There’s one other way.”
Richard looked over at him.
Keller splashed the dregs of his tea on the ground and looked back. “We could jump the Food Train.”
“We?”
“Well, you’re not going to jump it alone. Not and live to tell about it anyway. I’ve jumped that train more times than I can count. I can help you, but you’ve got to understand what we’re talking about here. It’s another world out there.”
“Just tell me what I have to do.”
Keller was silent for a few seconds.
“Tell you what,” he finally said. “Take some time to think it over. Give it another day – maybe something will turn up. Let me know by tomorrow afternoon if you still want to go, and I’ll set it up.”
The next afternoon between classes, Richard knocked on the wooden door marked ‘Mohinder Bains – Department Head’, and was invited in.
Bains was a short stout man with a plump face and an obvious comb-over. His office was tinged with the scent of a men’s cologne Richard didn’t recognize. Richard had always found him affable and well-meaning, but a born bureaucrat with little tolerance for bending the rules. On the wall above Bains’ head was a larger version of the ‘Innovation Day’ poster Richard had seen in Ms. Kingsley’s office. He took a seat in front of Bains’ desk.
“Richard - what can I do for you,” said Bains, smiling.
“I need to take a leave of absence.”
Bains stiffened and stared at him.
“My brother’s been missing for three days now,” said Richard. “I’ve looked everywhere, but there’s no sign of him.”
Bains tried to maintain his smile. “What are we talking about – one or two days?”
“I hope about a week. It depends on what happens – whether I find anything.”
Bains’ smile finally disappeared. “Richard, I understand how you feel, but you should let the police handle it.”
“I’ve gone to the police. They say they’re swamped.”
“My concern is your contribution to Innovation Day,” said Bains, gesturing up at the poster on the wall behind him. “I’m expecting our ‘Innovation in Agriculture’ pavilion to be the highlight of the entire celebration.”
He stood up and gazed dreamily out the office window for a few seconds. “What better way to celebrate Man’s dominance over his environment than to showcase his mastery of farming – the domestication of plants and animals to suit his own great purpose…”
“We’ve been working flat out for the past few weeks,” said Richard. “The pavilion is almost complete. I’ll sit down with the students before I leave and make sure they have everything they need to continue the work while I’m gone.”
“If it were anyone else, I’d probably say no,” Bains said, turning back. “The celebration will be upon us in fewer than three weeks. But I’ve always been able to depend on you.”
“Hey, I’m as excited about Innovation Day as anyone,” said Richard. “We could use a positive celebration for a change. I’ll try to resolve the situation as quickly as possible.”
Bains sat down and rolled in his chair over to a filing cabinet in the corner. He opened a drawer – with difficulty since it was stuffed with paperwork, and thumbed through the files.
“Just fill out a Request for Leave of Absence.” He located the form, rolled back, and handed it to Richard. “I’ll speak to Mr. Morrison about taking over your class and let you know later today. You could start your leave tomorrow.”
Richard returned to his own office and left a message on Detective Leung’s voice mail. About ten minutes later Leung returned his call.
Richard confirmed that Danny was still missing. “Are you finally going to take his disappearance seriously?” he said.
“We’ll open a case,” Leung said. “I should advise you – as I told you, we’re stretched thin here. I can only spare one officer, and he’ll also be pursuing several other cases.”
“So you’ll have one part-time person looking for Danny.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do. There’s still the possibility that he’s run away, and will return at…”
“My brother did not run away!” Richard shouted into the phone.
“Please calm down,” said Leung. “I promise you that we’ll do everything we possibly can to locate Danny.”
“Fine,” said Richard. He slammed down the phone, and knew at that moment what his answer to Keller would be.
The Food Train
“Okay,” said Keller, as they sat in the nook of the RV, “let’s get down to business. Jumping the train isn't as easy as it was even when I used to do it. I’ve still got a lot of contacts from my days on the road. They've beefed up security now – most of the time it’s next to impossible.
“There's only one exception. Every Saturday, the Specialty Train comes up from California. It brings in all the fancy fruits and vegetables we can't grow up here. Security for that train is always super-tight – the cargo's a hell of a lot more valuable on the black market than anything you find on the regular Food Train. So when the Specialty Train’s in town, a lot of the guards are siphoned off to guard it. That just leaves a skeleton crew guarding the regular Food Train, and that's the only time we'd have a hope in hell of jumping and getting away with it. Saturday is tomorrow – that’s when we’ll have to go.”
“Are you sure
you’re
up for this?” said Richard. “No offense, but you’re not getting any younger.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Keller. “Jumping that train’s like rolling out of bed for me. I’ll be fine.”
Keller talked for an hour about the jump and about survival in Surrey. When he was finished, he rose from his seat and climbed up to the overhead bunk, emerging with something wrapped in a rag. He unfolded the rag to reveal a small gun.
“You better take this,” he said, setting the gun on the table. He opened a cupboard and rummaged around until he found a timeworn box, which he set beside the gun.
“And this,” he said.
Richard swallowed. “I’ve never fired a gun before.”
“Nothing to it,” said Keller. “Just release the safety here…” He pointed to a tiny lever on the side, “aim, and fire. You’ll need it. I told you. Don’t worry, I’ll have one too.”
Richard wrapped the gun and ammunition in the rag and placed the bundle in his backpack.
The next day he dragged himself out of bed at four-thirty AM.
“The Food Train leaves every hour, on the hour,” Keller had told him. “But it's too dangerous to jump in broad daylight. The best time of day is when there’s not too much light – either at dawn or at dusk. You don't want to be stuck in Surrey at dusk, so the best bet is at dawn.”
He met Keller at a prearranged spot and they began their ride to the outskirts of the city. Richard had never been out this early in the morning. He was a creature of habit. For years he’d risen at 7 a.m., taken an hour to get ready, and left for work just after 8, by which time the city was already in full swing.
They rode silently and without lights to avoid attracting attention. He was shocked at what he saw. Every traffic island, every sheltered space, was crammed with the bodies of people sleeping.
There must be thousands!
He thought.
It was common knowledge that the homeless were everywhere in the city, but the numbers he was witnessing now were staggering.
“What the hell is happening here?” he actually said out loud. So loudly, in fact, that a couple of sleepers on the sidewalk lifted their heads and stared in his direction.
“Shhhh…” said Keller. Richard could just make out his companion holding a finger to his lips.
They rode on in silence for half an hour. As they reached an open stretch of road near the edge of town, Keller finally spoke.
“You know I used to live in Surrey?” he said as they rode.
“No I didn’t.”
“It was a lot of years ago now. Those days a few of the well-heeled still drove to town. ‘Course I was never one of them. Back then the Sky-Train ran out there, so it wasn't too hard to get around.
“When fuel prices went stratospheric the value of everybody’s property went into the toilet. There wasn't any reason to stick around. Then the infrastructure started to fall apart – Police, Fire, Ambulance – it got to be downright dangerous to live there. With the power shortages being so bad, Energy Triage decided it wasn't worth running Sky-train out there anymore, and that put the last nail in the coffin of that place. Not long after that I started riding the rails.” Keller shook his head slowly, “You wonder where all the people back there came from? That’s your answer.”
After another hour of cycling and walking they reached an open area not far from the track for the Food Train. They stashed their bikes in a grove of thick brush.
“Okay,” Keller said, “let's go. We’ve got to walk a ways to get to a good jumping point. Follow me.”
They walked half a mile parallel to the track, through short scrub and an occasional stand of trees. Finally they reached a section of open ground on a gentle up-slope surrounded by rolling hills. Keller headed to a clump of brush, stopped, and motioned for Richard to sit down.
“The train will be here in about half an hour,” Keller said. “Before we make the jump, there‘s some things you need to know.”
“Okay,” said Richard.
Keller sat crossed-legged on the ground and eyed Richard intently. “Like I said before, every Food Train is heavily guarded. The guards've got guns, and they'll use them. They don't usually shoot to kill, but it happens. Don't forget – they're not just trying to keep people from hitching a ride. The cargo on that train is precious. People would kill for it, believe me. When you consider that it costs the average Joe the better part of an hours’ pay to buy one tomato…you do the math. There's a lot of starving people out there, not to mention the black market. You sure you want to do this? There’s still time to back out.”
Richard nodded.
“Okay – the most important thing about jumping a train is where you get on and off. Stand up and take a look.”
Richard stood up and peered into the rising light. He could make out the curve of the track about two hundred feet away.
“Notice anything about the track here?”
“Not really. It runs straight for a while along a plain, then curves into a series of hills.”
“That's right. It curves. That and the hills are what make this a good place to jump. When the train goes around the curve, the guard that just passed won't see us because the curve will put us behind a hill – same with the next guard along. The train will also slow down, because the grade here’s steeper than usual. That and the fact that most of the guards are off guarding the Specialty Train, are what we're counting on.”
Keller paused for a minute, presumably to allow the information to sink in.
He continued, “The important thing is – we have to find a section of the train where the guards won't see us – where neither one has a view of our jump. You don't have to worry about that. I just want you to know why I picked this spot.”
“Sure.”
“When we actually do the jump, it's best to pick a car that’s empty,” continued Keller. “The guards pay less attention to those ones. There's another reason, but I'll leave that until we get aboard. Once I pick a car, we’ve got to get inside and out of sight. That's another reason to go for an empty car – you don't have to worry about anything falling out when you open the door.”