Transcontinental (48 page)

Miguelito gestured for the bag. “If it is, you need not worry.”

He handed it over begrudgingly. He knew he was innocent and shouldn’t mind the search, but Miguelito’s implication offended him. Still, Leroy supposed the man was probably right. Better safe than sorry.

Miguelito shoved his hand into the main compartment and came up with nothing. He checked each pocket and sub-pocket with the same results, then held the bag upside down and shook. Again, nothing.

He zipped the bag up and handed it back, his demeanor shifted. “I really am sorry, Marcus. If it’s any consolation, you’ve earned my trust. If you’re ever around these parts again, come see us. Mamacita would enjoy that.”

Leroy released a half-forced smile. He had a feeling traveling would be at the bottom of his to-do list after this little cross-country jaunt.

“I would, too. Thanks again.”

He left Miguelito and his Corvette behind, then approached the crowded station. Scanning the grounds, he decided not to scale the fence in view of the whole parking lot, and began the walk around the station grounds. Maybe there was a jungle in the area. He’d be more likely to get direction from them than the crew of a busy train station.

It took him ten minutes to find the boundary of the fence. Looking through, he could see dozens of trains parked across the yard. He continued around the fences, fending off his rampant doubts, until he smelled something burning. At the bottom of a steep decline, under a bridge, two bedraggled old hobos, one fat and one thin, roasted hot dogs over a fire.

“Oh, uh, calling in?” Leroy said.

“What’s your offering?” the fat one asked. “Got any alcohol?”

The two of them cackled, then the thin one said “Get it? ‘Cause you’re too young so there’s no way you could be bringing us alcohol!”

The hobos broke out into laughter again, then the fat one took out a flask and each took a drawn-out swig. “Good thing we got some!”

“Great. So you guys know if any of those trains are southbound?”

“Well sure, lots—” the thin man started, until the fat one elbowed him and whispered in his ear. “There’s one’s about to leave. Over here.”

Giggling, the two of them set off, and Leroy followed. They led him around to the other side of the station, where four trains waited on outgoing tracks, two of them apparently ready to depart, as their FREDs blinked out of sync.

A decaying stench infiltrated his nose as they neared the trains. One of them must’ve hit a deer. He was glad he wasn’t around to see that.

“That’s the one, right there,” the fat man said, pointing at the nearest train. “Make sure you sit on the very back unit. For safety.”

“Yeah, for safety!” the skinny man said, tittering.

Drunk people were so weird.

Leroy surveyed his ride. The cars were a type he hadn’t seen before—deep rectangular receptacles so tall he couldn’t see their contents.

“You sure this is the right one? Southbound?”

“You questioning my knowledge?”

“No, I just don’t wanna—”

“You questioning his knowledge?” the skinny man repeated.

“What kinda person asks for help then don’t take it?”

“I wasn’t trying to be rude, I just—”

“Trust me, that’s the one.”

The train’s horn blew, startling Leroy, then he hopped onto the unit. The air brakes hissed and the train jerked forward to a slow roll.

Arms crossed over his bouncing belly, the fat man laughed and said “Smell ya later, kid!” The thin man shouted something as the train pulled away that was drowned out in the engine sounds, but Leroy could guess what he said.

Chapter 14

Lake City, FL

It’d taken a while to set in, but things finally clicked: the train was carrying trash. It was the only answer. That foul stench had been Leroy’s travel companion for hours. And the fat hobo had orchestrated it all. He’d been played for a fool. ‘Smell ya later,’ indeed.

He’d been on the verge of panic, paranoid that the train wasn’t even going south and had him on the fast track away from his destination, but about halfway through the ride he’d spotted a Tallahassee sign, and if he’d learned anything from his state capitol studies, Tallahassee was the capitol of Florida. Just the fact that he was in Florida had sucked some of the dreariness out of his soul. He could almost picture Rehema’s face when she opened the door to meet him.

Standing against the railing, Leroy watched the fields of palmetto bushes and trees pass by. The terrain was closer to what he was used to in California, but slightly more tropical, and the humidity had seemed to spike somewhere around the state line. He was sweating although he’d hardly moved, and itching to get off the train and onward to Tampa.

As it approached a station, the train slowed. Leroy waited until it traveled at a crawl, then hopped off just outside the gate. He circled to the front of the station, then stood in the parking lot after realizing he didn’t know which way to go. If only he’d had Ant’s compass, still.

The only person in sight was a man fiddling with his keys outside of a white van. Leroy hadn’t the best experiences with white vans, so he hesitated, but figured it couldn’t hurt to just ask for directions. He jogged over.

“Excuse me, you know which way’s south?”

The man, his skinny arms shrouded with ink and earlobes opened with gauges, glanced up and said “I better. Thats where I’m headed.”

Excitement inflated his chest. He knew he probably shouldn’t go anywhere with anyone in a white van just to be safe, but with opportunity parked right in front of him, what was he supposed to do? “Where exactly?”

“Miami.”

“That’s at, like, the bottom of Florida, right?”

“You got it.”

“And Tampa is between there and here?”

“Look, you need a ride, all you gotta do is ask. Tampa’s your stop?”

“Yes sir.”

“Call me Chester. I gotta check the atlas, but I think I can swing it.”

“Oh, I have an address.” He unfolded the paper and forked it over.

As he moved to take the paper, Chester recoiled and plugged his nose. “Wow! Sorry buddy, you gotta ride in the back with the cargo. You smell like you just dug your way out from the bottom of a landfill.”

Leroy sighed. “Trash train.”

“Lovely. You ready to take off?”

“Definitely.”

Chester swung open the trunk doors, revealing a Noah’s Ark of violently colorful piñatas—rainbow zebras, donkeys, chickens, fish, monkeys, birds, and butterflies. Leroy was temporarily transfixed.

“Pretty crazy, huh? It’s like looking through a kaleidoscope. Couriers get some wild stuff to transport. I once carried one of the last remaining stocks of smallpox. Never handled anything more carefully in my life. Pretty sure they locked it up in a vault after I delivered it.”

Leroy climbed into the van, marveling at both the story and the confetti zoo surrounding him. He wondered if the piñatas held candy.

“You good?” Chester asked.

“I’m good.”

“Then let’s hit the road.”

Chester hopped in the driver’s seat as Leroy quashed thoughts of poking a small hole in one of the donkeys to check for candy.

* * *

Chester loved to talk, maybe even more than Ant had. A lot of it was interesting—his escapades as a courier, the people he’d met, the things he’d carried. The stories set his imagination on fire.

Then, Chester started to talk about his band. Leroy enjoyed the occasional tales of debauchery, but when the guy started talking about his collection of guitar pedals and DJ settings, Leroy was completely lost.

Soon after, the ride hit an all-time low as Chester put on a CD of his band, a sort of rap-rock fusion shredded by screaming and too-loud guitars. If that was what guitar pedals did, Leroy thought Chester could stand to lose them.

“That’s me screaming, bro. I hit a lot of upper-range wails in this one, lots of
yeahhhhh
,” he shrieked. “But I got the lows down, too.” He switched between a few more guttural screams. “
Aaaahhhhhh
.
Uuuuhhhhh
.
Oooohhhhh
.”

“That’s cool,” Leroy said, drawing a blank. All he could think of was how much it sounded like it hurt to yell that way. “Sounds cool.”

“I know, right? Most people think you just scream, but it comes from the chest. It’s really more of an art form than anything.” Chester skipped to the next song. “Check this out.” He turned up the volume as a juicy guitar riff ripped through the speakers.

The treble attacked Leroy’s ears. He rested his head on a piñata as Chester head-banged and danced in his seat to his own music.

As the song came to a raucous end, Chester turned the radio off, parked on the side of the road, then turned back to Leroy. “Here we are.”

Leroy’d grown so accustomed to six-plus hour rides, that he hadn’t even kept track of time. “Wait, we’re in Tampa? Right now?”

“Sure are. We’re not at your destination, but I don’t have time to take you all the way. Gotta get these paper hombres over to
their
destination.”

“How do I find this address, then?”

“Easy, take this road map.” He tossed it back to Leroy.

“You sure?”

Chester waved his hand. “Yeah, I can grab a new one on the way. They’re like a buck at a gas station. Gotta pick up another pack of cigs, anyway.”

“Awesome. Thanks so much for everything.”

“No problem, kid. Actually, here, take a CD with you.”

Leroy caught it out of the air. The case said Hybrid Theory.

Chapter 15

Tampa, FL

As he traipsed along a sunny street, sparkles of light reflecting onto him from an adjacent lake, Leroy was terrified. He was finally in Tampa. He’d gone clear across the country, one extreme to the other, faced countless dangers, met a highly-varied bunch of people, and traveled thousands of miles, yet the prospect of seeing the person he’d done it all for made him clammy and shaky.

No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t done it all for Rehema. He’d done it for himself, for a chance to escape a past that defined him, for a family, even if it was only the two of them. He’d done it because it was all he had. He’d done it because he had to.

He sat on the edge of the lake, holding his knees to his chest as he looked out. An object that looked like a stray piece of tree bark floated on the water ten feet in front of him. As he looked closer, though, he could make out an eye. Then, it registered: it was an alligator.

For a moment, he froze in fear, until he remembered back to science class. Alligators were much more dangerous in water than on land. It also occurred to him that alligators had been around since the dinosaurs were alive. Tens of millions of years, they’d survived. Even with man running roughshod on their natural habitat, they’d survived.
 

No matter how the meeting with Rehema went, he would survive. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with him, he would survive. If nothing else, he’d travel the country searching for Ant. Leroy owed him as much.

He leapt to his feet and set off down the sidewalk.

* * *

Leroy had thought he was ready, but clearly he was not.

He’d been standing outside Rehema’s house for ten minutes already, sweat dripping off his brow, completely unrelated to the heat. It was almost surprising nobody had seen him and come outside yet.

He hadn’t expected a house this big; it was only one story, but it seemed to stretch back forever. Then, he had a horrible thought: what if she had a family already? What if she had her own kids? He cringed at his unpreparedness.

Well, it was too late now. He was practically on her doorstep.

There was only one car in the driveway. That was a good sign. A moment later, he realized what a selfish thought that’d been.

His eyes crept over the landscaping. A bed of white tulips extended from the house’s foundation, framed by two short, thick palm trees. The grass was trimmed and edged, not a blade out of place. A bouquet of the yard’s tulips filled an ornate wreath on the front door. He was wasting time and he knew it, but doubt incapacitated him.
 

He held his breath and stepped around the Mitsubishi. He couldn’t avoid the situation any longer. He wouldn’t. He was done with inaction. This pilgrimage had taught him that he had to make things happen for himself.
 

He wished his mother had felt the same.

Standing on the doorstep, emotion tightening his chest, he knocked three times. As he waited, he swallowed hard, wringing his hands.

He could hear a hand grab the doorknob. His hair stood on end.

The door opened, revealing a black man in a t-shirt and shorts. With a quick glance, he sized Leroy up and said “Not interested, thanks.”

Leroy felt tears brimming in his eyes. “Is Rehema Shepherd here?”

The man paused. “Why? Who’re you?”