Between the Roots (15 page)

The trail was easy to follow, but slippery. The threesome eased their way down the bluff wall to the nearest set of tracks. Their lightweight ponchos billowed like angry kites. Sammy figured that to any watchers, they'd look mysterious in their gear, inching along the gravel bed of the tracks.

Beyond them was another steep descent to the fence that bordered the yard. They crossed the first set of tracks along the bluff. Strong wind gusts forced them to hunker low. They checked both directions, and then ventured across the second set of dangerously exposed tracks, all the time Sammy being fully aware they were breaking the law. Reminders were posted on the fence ahead of them. There was no easy escape route, since the railroad tracks were flanked by the bluff wall, a sharp curve, and the yard surrounded by cyclone fence. If a train happened by, they were at a deadly disadvantage.

They soon reached the lower level of the yard, where the flat land extended to the river. Now Sammy knew why the fence was altered: fishermen used it. The shortest distance was through the railroad yard.

The rain intensified, which made it difficult to see. John shook free the water dripping from his hood. "Where did you say the break in the fence was?" he shouted above the noise of whipping plastic.

"There, go down about twenty yards on your left!" Walt yelled back.

John led the group. Just beyond the narrow break in the fence he noticed a huge gate that crossed the side set of tracks to open into the yard. This was how the cars were rolled into storage. When he reached the narrow opening, he held tight to his flapping garment and twisted himself through. Walt slipped from his backpack and handed it to John before entering the curve of the fence. Sammy followed.

Inside the yard it felt austere. Nothing was moving; the large wooden boxes were somber ships on giant wheels, going nowhere. Their sliding doors were closed tight, save that of one that Sammy found just inside the large gate.

The door was slightly gapped open. Before he entered the boxcar, Walt retrieved his backpack from John, unfastened the top, and withdrew a flashlight. He fanned the light inside the empty car, and then helped Sammy boost John through the open door. Next, John pulled Walt, while Sammy pushed him from below. Sammy had not realized how far from the ground boxcar floors extended. Using all of his strength, he hoisted himself up and onto the floor. Sammy felt a flood of relief pass through his tired muscles.

"I'm glad to be out of that wind," Sammy said. He joined Walt and John at the back of the car; clumps of mud now covered the floor.

"Help me undo this flap." Walt handed John the flashlight. "Shine it on top of the pack." Walt found the treasures he had packed. The first item out of the bag was a sack containing three oranges, a bag of pretzels, and three large Snickers bars.

"Way to go, Walt!" Sammy called as he helped unload the loot.

"Here, let's have a little more light," Walt ordered as he continued to pull a pair of stocky red and white striped candles from the pack. "Matches anyone?"

"Heck, I don't carry them around. Do you Sammy?" John said.

"Well, would you look at this," Walt said as he waved a new box of wooden matches in front of their faces. "And, of course, we need a table." He tugged on the next item until it came free of the pack, a red-checkered plastic tablecloth to cover the muddy boxcar floor.

"I'm impressed!" Sammy said. "So now we eat, right?"

"You haven't seen the last of it." Walt's broad smirk showed in the flickering candle flames. "There are some sandwiches and a deck of cards in here somewhere." The contents of the backpack were now spilled on the rough floor. They arranged the tablecloth, sat on it, and huddled near the dancing light, the atmosphere now cozy against the wailing storm outside. As they ate and talked, the wind whipped furiously at the open car door.

John crept to the door. "Listen, can you hear that rushing sound?"

"It's the river on the other side of the yard," Walt answered.

"Sounds close."

"While you're up, see if you can close that door a little," Sammy said.

John grabbed the open edge, and pulled and rocked the door. It held fast. He leaned his shoulder against the inside and pushed harder. "It's not going anywhere. Help me budge it, Sammy." With their combined effort, it began to slide on its track. Suddenly, it released its rusty hold and slid forward, slamming tight shut.

"There, that ought to keep out the wind." Both boys returned to the back of the car.

"It's warmer already." Walt was pleased. "Let's play some cards. What do you guys know?"

"How about poker? We can use pretzels for chips." Sammy tried to sound naïve. He'd played hours of poker with his mother. From the beginning, he was a natural to the game, as if he had played it for years. He planned to take advantage of his hidden talent; he was hungry and pretzels were good spoils today. He could eat the whole bag. Maybe now he would.

"So how will we know which one's worth five or ten?" John asked.

"Easy, like this." Sammy reached into the bag, pulled out a three-section pretzel, and bit off one of the curves. "There, this one is worth five." Just as quickly he pulled out another pretzel and ate two of its curves. "This one's worth one." He reached inside the bag again.

"Hey, eat your own, wise-guy," said John.

"I'm just helping out. I'll prepare the chips. I don't mind doing the job." Sammy rolled his eyes and smirked at Walt.

Walt grabbed the bag and began counting the loot, equal piles to each player. "Whole ones are tens, and everybody bites off his own ones and fives," he said. "But we all have to start with the same amount."

As the rain slashed against the boxcar outside, they snuggled closer to their light and meager heat source, dealing, betting, and cursing, and eating their pretzels down to equal wagers.

"So what about your folks?" Sammy directed the question toward Walt as he dealt another hand. "Do you live with them, or what?"

"They're still out on Severee. I've been living with AnLillie ever since I can remember. Soon I may be taking care of
her
though."

"Severee?"

Walt slapped two pairs down and claimed the pretzel pile. "That's when we can go outside the Colony to live. My folks were married in the Colony and then went on Severee. They have to move about every five years, so I'm guessing in a couple moves they'll be back to the Colony."

John asked, "Why all the moving?"

Sammy answered the question for him. "They started looking younger. People would get suspicious, right?"

"Right."

"How did you know that?" John snapped at Sammy.

"Stands to reason. They leave old, and, if they meet people, they're gonna be suspect once they start showing signs of reversed aging."

"I saw my mother once," Walt went on. "During one of their moves, Mother came back to the germinal forest to deposit me. Then she rejoined my father on Severee. She did that again, about six months ago. That's when I met her."

"You have a sibling?" Sammy looked surprised.

"Soon. She's still in the germinal forest. After her germ-day, she'll live in the big house. That's where we all go until we're steady enough to join our grandparents."

"So it's really your grandparents who raise you guys?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you miss not being with your parents?" Sammy pressed on, curious.

When he didn't answer, Sammy figured he didn't want to talk about it. John shuffled the cards; Walt cut the deck; John dealt. Sammy asked, "Don't you wonder about your folks?"

"Don't you wonder about your grandparents?" Walt cut him short. "This is normal. Maybe your way is all goofed up. My grandma has seen lots of life, had lots of experience before raising me. Besides, everyone in the Colony helps out. It takes a lot of people to raise a healthy human."

"What about your other grandparents? You do have two sets, don't you?" John asked.

"Sure. They'll probably raise my sister, since AnLillie is getting smaller."

"That's just weird. We're like root mirrors; you grow down, I grow up," John said.

"Let's hope so," Sammy added.

"I'll tell you what I think is sad," Walt retorted. "It's seeing people talking disrespectful to each other just because one of them has been on this earth longer than the other. Like being here longer means they're more important."

"Well, it does, doesn't it?" Sammy argued.

"Call!" Walt laid down his cards. "We're just told to treat everyone the same. Heck, some of the newest germ-pods have really young-looking humans. They were given a short time clock. Just from looking, you really never know who's been on earth the longest. So, the solution? Treat everyone with respect."

"Full house! My pot!" John shouted.

"It's kind of weird to think that maybe some of those toddlers and preschoolers around town could really be old people in disguise," Sammy said.

"Well, they are. Some day it will be AnLillie. But you won't hear her screaming and crying for a toy, or having a tantrum in a candy store."

"She'll probably be crawling around in the library," John joked.

Sammy leaned in close to Walt, speaking louder against the noise outside. "Walt, who are these links you were talking about the other day? Are they another colony?"

Walt scooped in his win of pretzels, and then said, "They don't even know who they are; heck, I don't even know who they are. But they're powerful." The image of an oversized, grotesque being flashed across Sammy's mind. A violent blast of wind rocked the car and startled the boys. Some rain had found a path through the car roof and sprayed down on them.

John's voice brought the game back to life. "Come on, you guys, ante up. I've got to win me some more loot. I'm hungry."

The candles grew dim in their own melting puddles as the game and weather raged. All three of them tried to be oblivious to the storm's rising intensity. And then it happened. The first jolt rocked the car and tilted the floor off level.

"What's that?" John cried. He grabbed his pile of dwindling pretzels as if a real treasure were being threatened.

"Sh, sh, listen." Walt leaned his head against the wall. The car gave a subtle shift to the right.

Sammy got to his feet and was headed toward the door, when the car listed dramatically to the left. "It's water, Walt. That sounds like water hitting the wheels."

The others staggered up and rushed toward the door with him—cards, candles, chips all forgotten. Sammy knew they must open the door. But it held tight against the rough frame, resisting their pulling, pushing, and kicking.

"How close did you say we were to the river?" Sammy yelled at Walt, his voice half drowned by the thundering of rushing waters.

"Not, far. Geez, that's it, isn't it? We're surrounded by the river!"

T
HE CAR SETTLED
momentarily on the tracks before it tilted to the right and slammed the boys against the heavy door.

"Quick, get over to the other side!" Sammy yelled. They wobbled across the car, and fell against the wall as the car see-sawed under their weight. "We need to stay low in the middle of the car."

Walt shook his head. "We gotta get that door open!"

"But not all of us at once. We'll have to try the door between the wind gusts," Sammy said.

"Is it wind or water that's moving us?" John asked.

"Both! But we're surrounded by the river!" Sammy yelled above another blast of wind.

"It can't be the river; it hasn't rained that much!" John yelled.

"Snowmelt. The rain in the mountains has been melting all the snow," Sammy said.

"How do you know that?" John asked.

"I don't know, I just do." How many times had Sammy said that? It was his line, day after day.

When the car stilled, John signaled Sammy to help him force the door open. While one of them pulled, the other leaned his shoulder against the door and pushed. It budged about four inches on its rusty track. They tried again, but it remained frozen. Again and again they threw themselves against it. Still, it refused to budge. A gray sky unleashed another blast of heavy rain into the dark car.

Their situation had worsened. The partially opened door exposed them to the cold and wet. Their shelter was now their prison. It threatened them with its rocking motion as the water continued to rise against the huge wheels. Soon they would no longer be held fast to the track. If the river continued to rise, the boxcar would float downstream.

It was growing dark, from both the storm and failing daylight. Fear stabbed through Sammy's belly.
"Is this what my end is supposed to be like?"

"Listen!" Walt threw his hands outward as if that movement could calm the whole situation. "Do you hear that?"

"What is it?" Sammy asked.

"It's distant. I can't tell which direction it's coming from." Walt was now standing in the center of the car, legs spread far apart, absorbing the rolling motion of the water against the large wheels. "I can't tell if it's the river or something else."

John flattened his face against the small opening in the door.  "Look, just beyond the bend!"

Sammy came up and took his place. With one eye turned toward the opening, he could see the tracks that allowed cars to be moved in and out of storage. A rotating light appeared in the distance and illuminated the fence's wire web, flashing against the bluff, and then returned to light the yard.

"What's there?" All three of them were now trying to look out the partially opened door. The car rebelled, listing under their weight.

"It's a train. No, it's two engines, one behind another." Walt maneuvered his head to see oncoming locomotives. "They're bearing down on the outside track together."

A switch on the main track guided the powerful steel beasts onto the side track leading to the yard. The screech of metal on metal competed with the moaning wind and lashing rain. They could hear the train headed in their direction.

The set of powerful engines stopped. Two men jumped to the ground. The bright engine lights silhouetted the men; water circled them knee-high. They waded in halting movements against the river's current. When the moving spotlight caught the men, Sammy could see their faces contort, yelling directions, none of which could be heard inside the boxcar. They reached a large metal security box on the gate. Working together, they freed the lock and, pushing with the current, forced the gate open. Then they returned to the lead locomotive.