A Tale from the Hills (22 page)

The slowing down of the train, followed by several long blows of the whistle, signaled to William that the train would be stopping soon. He knew that he needed to be out of the train before it was completely stopped. He was sure that he would be arrested if the authorities caught him on the train, and he did not want to pay a fine or go to jail, or both. He grabbed the suitcase and moved quickly toward the open door. He jumped from the train into an open field.

After brushing himself off and straightening his clothes, he looked around for a landmark that would indicate that he had finally reached Wilmington. Off in the distance he saw the backside of a water tank with the letters INGTON written on it. He was sure that the other side of the sign would spell out the rest of Wilmington, but he was disappointed to find BURL, instead. Where in the Hell was Burlington? He assumed that he was still in North Carolina, but he had slept so well that he was not sure of anything. He had no idea what time it was or how far the train had traveled while he was asleep. He suspected that the old man was playing tricks with his mind.

He soon found out that Burlington was still in North

Carolina, but that he was still several hours away from the coast. A map at the railroad station showed a detailed route to many destinations and Wilmington was a relatively straight shot from Burlington. The next major city was Raleigh, which was the Capital of North Carolina, and Wilmington was a few hours away from Raleigh. William had never realized before that North Carolina was such a large state. Of course everything was huge when compared to the tiny community of Jewel Ridge Mountain.

Dusk was approaching rapidly and he was sure that a cheap room could be found somewhere in the city. He did not want to be out of doors after dark so he hurried from the railway station to the downtown section of Burlington. He met several people as he walked along but none of them even looked at him. His first impression was that the citizens of Burlington were not as friendly as the citizens of Wilkesboro. And that suited him just fine. He did not want to speak to anyone except long enough to get a room and maybe something to eat a little bit later on. His decision to go out for food would depend upon how safe he felt in his temporary surroundings.

Finding a room was relatively easy but it cost him a buck for the night. He thought that the price was too high, but it was dark by the time that he reached the old hotel. Even if the price had been more than a dollar, he would have had to pay it. There was not enough time to look for another room without risking who knew what kind of ungodly evil after dark in a strange place, and the room was grand compared to his room in Wilkesboro. There were some nice pieces of furniture and even pictures on the walls. Of course the furniture was bolted to the floor and he suspected that the pictures were likewise bolted to the walls.

All that he really was interested in was a place to feel safe and to sleep in peace and quiet. He bolted the door and double checked to make sure that he was safely locked in. He did not even bother to unpack. He placed the pistol under a pillow and settled down for a quick nap before supper.

Bright morning light was beaming through the window when he finally woke up. He must have slept for hours and hours, and without a single dream. He felt very well rested, but he was starving. He quickly dressed and made his way downstairs to check out of his room.

“I thought that I was going to have to come in your room and wake you up.” the desk clerk announced. “Its almost ten o’clock.”

“I was very tired.” William answered. “Where can I get something to eat around here?”

“If you came here from the railroad station, go back the same way. About halfway between here and there is a pretty good diner.”

“Thanks.” William replied.

“Come back and see us.” the clerk said with a North Carolina drawl.

“Not likely.” William said as he closed the door behind him.

The desk clerk watched him as he walked quickly up the sidewalk. William turned every few steps to see if anyone was behind him. The clerk thought to himself that he had seen a lot of people come and go during his career in the hotel business, but the guy who just left was one of the strangest to darker his doorway. Cute as Hell, but strange with a capitol S.

As he stepped into the small cafe’, William remembered the first time that he ever ate in a restaurant. He remembered that the town was named after a President, but for the life of him, he could not remember which one. He ordered the breakfast special and the waitress winked when she told him that he was getting the very last one. He half smiled back at her but that was the full extent of his flirtation. All that he wanted to do was to eat and then be on his way.

When the food finally arrived he ate like he had not eaten for days. After seconds and thirds of the toast and coffee, he paid his tab and made his way back to the railway station. There was much too much activity for him totry and sneak on board a train, so he began walking in the direction of Wilmington. He was so well rested and his stomach was so full, that he decided to exercise himself by walking for a while. Besides he was glad to get away from the crowded city and be all by himself for a while. He felt ill at ease and vulnerable among strangers now more than ever.

He had time to think about his life up to that moment. It seemed to him that every time that he got settled into a new location and tried to make some kind of a life for himself, bad things always happened. And the bad things were getting worse too. The events in Wilkesboro were the worst ones yet, and he dreaded what the future might bring his way. He wished that he had some way of knowing what was going to happen to him next. Sometimes he wished that he had joined little Alice in the murky water when she disappeared on that terrible Monday morning. He realized that he could always step out into the path of an oncoming train, and that particular thought had crossed his mind on more than one or two occasions. But his survival instincts naturally kept him from destroying his own life. It was either that or a fear of seeing the old man face to face that did it.

The landscape was almost flat in every direction that he looked. There was a gentle roll to the hills that gave him a sense of peacefulness and tranquility. Nothing could threaten him if it could not sneak up on him. It would be nearly impossible for that to happen here. He took that as a sign that better times were ahead for him. There would be no surprises to catch him off of his guard.

He walked for miles before he felt the need to stop and rest. He had eaten so much that morning for breakfast that he knew that he would not be hungry again for hours. He did have to stop every so often to relieve himself because of the amount of coffee that he drank at the restaurant. But even then he stayed close enough to the tracks to keep an eye out for anything that looked suspicious.

It was mid afternoon before he heard the familiar sound of a train’s whistle. He climbed to the highest point around him to look for the oncoming train. He hoped that it was going in the same direction that he was going, and lucky for him it was. The anxiety about jumping into a fast moving train suddenly returned, and for good reason. This train was traveling at a much faster rate of speed than the first train that he jumped into. He decided not to risk jumping with the suitcase. He took out as many things as he thought that he could safely carry, and he hid the suitcase in the bushes around the track. He figured that he would never be back to claim it, but he wasn’t all that keen on giving the stuff to a hobo either. He just could not picture a dirty hobo wearing that beautiful blue wool coat with the pencil thin black stripe. He was already carrying the gun, but he secured the bullets, some food, and an extra shirt under his shirt.

The train looked like any of the hundreds of trains that he had seen in his lifetime. He waited until about half of the cars passed before he took the chance and jumped. This time he landed hard, very hard. He turned his right ankle and slightly cut his arm when he landed on the hard surface of the freight car. But even worse than that, he was not alone this time. There were three men hunched up in the corner. On second look he noticed that they were playing cards. Each man was drinking whisky from his own bottle. William also noticed several more bottles scattered around on the floor.

One of the men looked up from the game and said, “Hey bud, you disturbed our game. Who said that you could ride in our car?”

William was quite startled and in pain, but he tried not to show either affliction.

“Excuse me,” he replied. “But which one are you Mr. Norfolk or Mr. Southern?”

He had heard that line once in a bar and it seemed to be appropriate at that moment. His quick thinking seemed to ease the tension of his new surroundings. All three of the men laughed and then continued with their game and drinking as if he had not even interfered with their afternoon.

William kept his distance from the men, but he never took his attention away from what they were doing. He had never trusted hobos and since the events in Wilkesboro, he never trusted anybody. He had made up his mind never to trust anyone, ever again. Man woman or child, he was sour on the whole damned world. He felt like screaming out in anger and frustration, instead he sat there in silence. The dormant volcano that was inside of him was on the verge of eruption. He knew that if he did not find a safe place soon, that he explode. Pity to anyone who happened to bearound when that time came to pass.

**********

It was not very long before the men grew tired of playing cards. William noticed that their bottles were empty too. There was something about the tone of their conversation that was starting to make him feel even more uncomfortable than he was before. He did not like the fact that the men were not amusing themselves anymore. He feared that they might focus their attention on him. He was right on the money.

“Where are you from boy?” one of the men asked.

“The other side of the state.” he replied.

“And where might you be going?”

“The other side of the state.” he replied.

“I see that we got us a smart ass here.” he said to the other men.

“And a right pretty one too.” another of the men replied as he winked in William’s direction. “I wonder if his bottom half is as pretty as his top half?”

All three of the men stood up, brushed the loose straw from their clothes, and began walking toward the boy.

William did not like the look that was in their eyes. He thought about the look that Mr. Rosenbaum gave him as he brushed his over sized hands against William’s skinny butt. And all that the boy wanted was to be left alone, then aswell as now. He had not said or done anything to provoke these men, and he was not about to be their entertainment for the rest of their trip either. He was sure that they meant him harm too.

Without saying a word or showing any emotion, without even changing the expression on his face, William pulled the pistol from under his belt and shot the hobo that he perceived to be the ring leader of the group. Even though he was not an accomplished shot, he did not bother to aim the gun at any particular section of the man’s body. It was a lucky shot because it struck the surprised man at the midpoint between his eyes, and just above the bridge of his nose. Bits of bone and cartilage and blood splattered the men on either side of the intended victim. One of the other two men jumped out of the fast moving freight car, but he did not escape by any means. He landed hard on a bed of jagged rocks much like a baseball played would slide into home plate. He suffered unspeakable pain on a desolate section of North Carolina’s landscape before he finally died. Wild dogs nibbled on his nose and ears before and after he died.

The third man raised his arms into the air and began to cry. He knew that he was facing death and he was not ready.

“Please don’t kill me.” he pleaded. “I’ll do anything that you say. Just let me live. I’ve got a wife and three small children.”

The boy turned a deaf ear to anything that the man had to say. His movements were mechanical and methodical. He marched the lone survivor of the hobo group over to the sliding door.

“Let me jump.” the man begged.

“Sure, I’ll let you jump.” William said.

He placed the pistol’s barrel at the base of the man’s skull, and pulled the trigger. A look of terrible surprise appeared on the man’s face as William pushed him from the train. His crumpled body was still in sight when William rolled the first man out of the now bloody freight car. Williamwalked back to the exact spot where he had been sitting before the grisly incident, and calmly sat back down. Without so much as even clearing his throat or breaking wind, he closed his eyes and went peacefully to sleep.

He woke up a few hours later, hungry and exhilarated. His ankle was sore and his arm was hurting ever so slightly, but he could not remember why. Other than that he had never felt better in his life. The landscape had changed from rolling hills of red clay, to flat fields of yellow sandy soil. He had a feeling that Wilmington was not too much further away.

***********

William Hill made the transition from boy to man while he was on that train to Wilmington. He changed from an inexperienced, naive and confused youth, to a cold and calculating killer. He could have easily used that gun to keep the hobos at bay, instead he made the three men pay the ultimate price for interfering in his life. And by God, he felt invigorated by the whole experience. The gun was like a part of his body that he never knew that he had before that episode. He likened the discovery to the first time that he realized that he could do more than pee with that thing between his legs. A surge of adrenaline rushed through his body when the bullet slammed into the hobo’s face. He was kind of disappointed that he did not get to shoot all three of the hobos. Oh well, he thought, two out of three ain’t that bad for a beginner. With some practice, he was sure that he would improve.

In a strange new way William felt a kind of bond with the old man from his dreams. The gun must have belonged to the old man at one time or another. William wondered if his grandfather had ever shot anyone with it. Deep down he knew that the gun had a mysterious past. He was sure that his grandfather wanted him to have it too. Otherwise he would not have lead the boy to it in his dreams, and he would not have let the boy gain access to it so easily. It was a treasure to cherish and behold. William had the greatest respect for it.