Slaughter - Lutz John (читать книги без txt) 📗

42

Missouri, 1999

The shadow in the corner of the boxcar moved, then stood up and became a tall, potbellied man with a dark beard and gray-streaked hair grown down to his shoulders.

“You two hopped rides on trains before?” he asked.

“First time,” Jasmine said. She sounded almost cheerful, as if they were talking about learning to ride a bicycle.

The man smiled. A couple of teeth were missing, giving him a jovial, carved-pumpkin expression. “I’m Kirby,” he said. He was holding what looked like a gin or vodka bottle. He started to take a drink, then realized the bottle was empty. He skillfully dropped it on the leather toe of his shoe so it wouldn’t break on the boxcar floor and leave grass shards. It rolled whole and harmless away. The whole process looked as if he’d done it countless times before.

Jordan hadn’t moved since noticing the man. “Jordan,” he said, by way of introduction.

There was a slight dip in the rails, causing the car to lurch and sway. Everyone flexed their knees and rode it out.

Looking dubious, Kirby said, “You two sure this is new to you?”

“We’re sure,” Jasmine said.

Kirby stretched as if to show off his height and muscles in contrast to Jordan’s slightness. He looked anything but fit, yet he still held the undeniable advantage in size and strength over Jordan.

“What we gotta do right off,” Kirby said, “is get these boxcar doors partway shut so we won’t draw any attention. Y’unerstan’?”

“Sure,” Jasmine said. “We wanna look like the other boxcars, but not so much that we won’t have enough hiding space to stay outta sight.”

Kirby smiled at her, looking like a happy pumpkin with selectively missing teeth. Then he aimed his smile at Jordan. “This is a smart and sexy little gal you got here.”

Jordan didn’t know what to say to that. Simply muttered, “Thanks.”

Jasmine looked at him, as if for the first time a balance had shifted. He seemed scared, and that scared her.

She wasn’t the only one scared. Jordan wished he had a weapon. A stout club. Even a gun. The only thing he had that could do damage was his folding knife in his jeans pocket, with its four-inch blade. He knew it would take too long to fish the knife out of his tight jeans and open it with both hands.

He was standing near one of the wide-open doors, his feet spread wide so he could maintain his balance in the swaying boxcar. Outside, only a few feet from him, green scenery glided past.

“You kids’ll get used to it,” Kirby said.

“Used to what?” Jordan asked. He saw that Kirby was now standing closer to Jasmine.

“Bein’ on the road. It’s hard till you know the ropes, then you catch on.”

“To what?” Jordan asked.

“To where you can grab some sleep, find a meal. An’ stay outta harm’s way. Y’unerstan’?”

“Sure.”

“An’ you gotta know who your friends are.”

Kirby moved suddenly, causing Jordan to jerk his body and step protectively toward Jasmine.

But Kirby was merely moving to one of the wide-open boxcar doors.

He pushed sideways on the heavy steel door to close it, but it didn’t move.

“Sometimes they don’t close so easy,” he said. “This one slides rough. Gimme a hand, Jordan.”

Jordan made his way over, and the two of them leaned hard into the door. It didn’t budge.

“Sum’bitch is like it’s welded,” Kirby said.

Suddenly the door slid easily halfway closed and then jammed. Jordan had fallen to his knees. As he stood up, he saw that Kirby was watching Jasmine. He couldn’t keep his eyes from her.

“Only open it partways,” he said to Jordan. “Leave it about two feet from bein’ closed, then we’ll do that to the other door. That way we’ll have some cross ventilation and light in here, and we’ll still be outta sight unless somebody pokes his head in and looks around close.”

Jordan recalled how invisible Kirby had been in the shadows when he and Jasmine first got into the boxcar. Kirby had been nice enough so far, but Jordan knew enough not to eat the whole apple.

His right knee was plenty sore where he’d bumped it on the floor. He crawled over to where Jasmine sat near an open door, then sat down beside her with his back against the boxcar’s plywood side. Along with Jasmine, he stared out at the trees and fields. At the distance. He’d never been this far from home.

Kirby was sitting across from them, near where the other door was open but only a few feet.

“How far you two goin’?” Kirby asked. Here and there straw and white packing tablets lay on the boxcar’s plank floor. He had a strand of straw stuck in the corner of his mouth like a toothpick. It rotated in a wide arc as he moved his tongue around.

“All the way east,” Jordan said.

Kirby stared across the boxcar at Jasmine.

“This train’s gonna stop at Jeff City,” he said. “Then it’ll go on to St. Louis, where it’ll switch out.”

“Switch out?”

“Uncouple and sit empty till it gets hooked to another engine. We just need to avoid the railroad dicks.”

“We’ll figure out how to make our way,” Jordan said.

Jasmine smiled at him, reaching over and squeezing his wrist.

Kirby sneezed, spat out his straw, and struggled to his feet in the swaying boxcar. He reached into a back pocket as if to draw out a handkerchief.

Instead he was gripping something in a small gray cloth bag the size of a sock.

“What’s that?” Jasmine asked.

Kirby smiled, then said, “Candy.”

Only it wasn’t candy; it was gravel. And it formed a hard lump in the toe of the sock that made it an efficient sap.

43

Kirby swung the sap hard at Jordan’s head but hit his shoulder instead, said, “Sum’bitch!” and swung again. This time he missed entirely and almost fell as the boxcar jerked.

Then the girl, who appeared to be so frail, was on him like a tiger and much stronger than she looked.

“Ow! Friggin’ country bitches,” he yelled as her sharp fingernails dug hard into the sides of his neck.

He pushed her away and she fell back. Got halfway up then stumbled and fell again.

The pulsing and swaying boxcar was Kirby’s friend now. He could dispense with these two easily.

He turned toward the boy, but he was no longer there. That puzzled Kirby. He thought he’d hit Jordan hard enough to break a collarbone. The kid should be incapacitated.

So what’d he do? Jump outta the boxcar? Was the feisty little bastard lying in the darkness? Was he off the train and running and hiding in the night?

Jordan charged out of the blackness at the other end of the boxcar and hit Kirby at the knees; Kirby went down hard, and Jordan crawled up his back and twined an arm around Kirby’s right arm and was twisting it, causing Kirby to yelp. He tried to push himself up with his left arm so he could stand, but Jordan punched the arm out from beneath him and Kirby went face-first against the hard floor.

Kirby yelped again. Damned farm kids spend their lives at hard labor, gettin’ strong before they get smart. Twice as strong as they look. Kirby spat blood and figured he’d be lucky if his nose wasn’t broken.

This is wrong! I don’t deserve this! I need to be left alone!

But he knew he was too late. He couldn’t surrender to himself. And nobody else was listening.

Here came the girl again. What the hell was she doin’ now? Wrestling with both of them. Almost like she was attacking Jordan.

But that notion was dispelled when her teeth sank into Kirby’s bare heel, and he was angry with himself now for using the sock as a sap and then missing his target. Friggin’ Jordan kid should be the one down with his head split open.

What was the bitch doin’ with Jordan now? Tryin’ to take his pants down? What the hell? Was fighting for her life getting her hot?