Paranoid Park (4 page)

The train didn’t seem to be going very fast-until you tried to run alongside it. We both had to sprint to keep up. Scratch ran after a metal ladder on the side of a grain car. He jumped for it, caught it, and pulled himself up until he stood on the lowest rung. He pointed for me to do the same.

I still had my skateboard, which was in the way. But I switched it to my left hand and grabbed the ladder on the next car. Still holding my board, I crawled up enough to swing my feet into the bottom rung.

Scratch gave me a thumbs-up when he saw that. I had proved myself to not be a total idiot.

Now we were on the train. We were riding it. Scratch yelled stuff to me over the noise. He said the train went another quarter mile or so to a train yard. We’d jump off there and walk to Safeway.

I was so psyched. I couldn’t believe I was riding a train. I imagined telling all my friends, even telling Jennifer. I secured my skateboard in the rungs of the ladder and hung out as far as I could. Scratch was doing the same. He was a real hobo. The whole thing was so awesome. I wondered if we could ride it the other direction, too. Maybe you could ride it all the way across town.

Unfortunately, after a couple minutes, the train started to slow down. Scratch shouted that we should hop off, the train yard was coming up.

I regretted that my little ride had come to an end. But I had done it. I had hopped a train! I lingered there for a moment, hanging out as far as I could.

Then Scratch began waving frantically at me. I couldn’t tell what he was saying. At the same time, he wriggled farther up his ladder and tried to squeeze himself behind it. He looked like he was trying to hide. I didn’t understand.

Then I saw the car.

There was a private security car parked on the gravel up ahead. It faced the train, its headlights shining directly onto the freight cars as they passed. Standing beside it was a man in a security uniform. He had black gloves on and a black nightstick in his hands.

The security guard spotted us immediately. This was my fault. I didn’t hide, I just hung there. I didn’t know any better.

He ran toward us. He was big, not fat exactly, but he kind of waddled in his security guard uniform. Scratch climbed farther up the metal ladder. He might have yelled something to me, but I didn’t hear. I didn’t understand anyway. When the security guard reached us, I thought he would yell at us or tell us to get down. I figured we’d hop off and walk away. What could he do to us? Yell at us? Call our parents? There was nothing he could do.

I was wrong. The security guard went for me first. I was high up, so he could only reach my knees. But he took a vicious swing with his nightstick and I swear, if he had connected, he would have broken every bone in my leg. By pure luck and reflexes, I jerked my feet up and he missed. I tried to climb higher, to get away from him. My skateboard almost fell, and I caught it in my chest. The train was still moving, thank God. The security guy had to jog beside it to keep up with us. He took another swing at me, hitting the metal ladder so hard the vibrations nearly shook me loose. I dropped down a rung, almost falling. He wound up to swing again. Now I was vulnerable. I wasn’t high enough to avoid the nightstick. And I was losing my grip.

I jumped. I had no choice. I threw myself as far out as I could. I landed hard and tumbled on the gravel. A second later, Scratch jumped, too. The security guard must have tripped or fallen somehow, because when I came out of my roll, he and Scratch were both on the ground.

I scrambled to my feet. I ran for my skateboard. I was going to grab it and run like hell. Obviously, this security guard was out of his mind.

As I snatched up my board, I saw the guard chase down Scratch and hit him in the back with his nightstick. It dropped Scratch like a gunshot. I swear to God, I thought it killed him. And it was so brutal. Why was some rent-a-cop doing this? For riding on a train? It didn’t make sense.

Scratch tried to crawl away. The security guard, breathing hard, stood over him. The guard was big and out of shape, but he knew how to swing that stick. He wound up to hit Scratch again.

I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I ran at the security guard and rammed the front of my board into his ribs.

He barely noticed. He was very big. But he did turn and swing the club at me, this time just missing my head. I could sense the weight of the stick as it cut through the air above me. It seemed to have metal or lead in it.

Scratch, meanwhile, scrambled to his feet and ran toward the train. The guard caught the back of his shirt for a moment and swung again with his nightstick. By now I was so scared I didn’t know what was happening. I honestly thought he was going to kill us both.

So I charged him again. I reared back with my skateboard and slammed it into the back of his fleshy head. I put all my weight into it this time and I could feel the
thock
of my board hitting his skull. He definitely felt it this time. He froze for a moment, then stumbled, then fell forward onto the gravel beside the train.

Scratch and I both ran back a few feet, watching to see if he would get up. He started to—he lifted his head and felt around in the gravel for his nightstick. When he found it he struggled to stand.

Then something strange happened. It was hard to see exactly, in the dark, but it looked like his coat got caught on something under one of the moving cars. It sort of lifted him up and dragged him sideways. Scratch and I were still backing away, but we couldn’t resist the bizarre sight of the guard getting pulled along by the train. We watched him try to reach around and unhook himself, all the while skipping sideways, like a crab, trying to keep his feet under him.

Then he got turned around. He got twisted into an awkward position under the train. You could see him start to panic and try to tear himself loose. But he couldn’t. The train had him, and it was too powerful.

He got folded up. It was like a rag doll getting folded up and stuffed inside a narrow container. The security guard got rolled up and kind of ... crushed ... and ground into a ball.

It must have broken his back. Or his neck. He probably died right then. When the train finally released him—ripping the collar off his coat-it left him sprawled over the track. He lay there, unmoving for a whole second or two. Then the next row of huge steel wheels got to him. They cut him in half. We watched it happen, not thirty feet away. The wheels cut through his stomach and chest so that his legs and waist were on the outside of the tracks, his head and arms were on the inside.

He didn’t scream. There was no sound at all, except for the loud metallic groaning of the train. I stood where I was. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The train continued to move while I stood trembling with adrenaline and shock. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: a man cut in half. A man, lying in the gravel, in two parts. I simply could not believe it. It was not possible.

Scratch bolted. He sprinted down the gravel track bed, jumped the ditch, and scrambled over the dirt bank. I never saw anyone move so fast in my life. He looked like a rat, clawing his way up the hill and vanishing into the weeds.

I did not run. I stood. I saw my skateboard a few feet away and picked it up. I stared at the dark spot on the ground where the security guard lay. I took a few steps forward. I felt like I should do something, like I should try to help. A terrible sense of dread flooded into my chest.

The last car of the train passed by. There was no caboose at the end, just one final boxcar. I followed that last car forward to where the body was. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right in front of me was a human body cut in half. A human body that had been alive just thirty seconds before.

Blood was everywhere. It was on the silver train tracks. It was in the gravel under my feet. I stared at the mangled gash where his insides oozed onto the gravel. They steamed in the cool night air.

And the stink of it. When the smell of his insides reached me, I gagged. I almost threw up. I began to retreat, walking backward, but not quite able to pull my eyes away.

I tripped over something and fell. That broke the spell. I looked around. Where was I? What had just happened? Suddenly the air all around me seemed to crackle with bad energy. A low current of fear seemed to jam the circuits in my brain. I felt like I was out of my body, that my body was no longer my own. I felt like every molecule on earth had turned against me.

My lungs wouldn’t work. I couldn’t breathe. I lowered my head and tried to steady my breathing. I had to call the police. That was the first thing. I had to call someone. Should I yell for help? But I couldn’t get any air. And what if Scratch heard me?

I started walking. I came to the security guard’s car. It was still idling by the side of the tracks. The driver’s side door was open, and the inside light was on. A copy of
Guns & Ammo
magazine hung off the dash.

There must be a radio inside,
I thought. I would call the police. I would explain to them what happened. There had been a terrible accident. They needed to come right away. I leaned inside the car to find the radio, but then I found I didn’t want to touch anything.

No, I shouldn’t touch things. I should be careful about that. Just in case ... just in case I needed ... to what?

I stepped back from the car. I had to think about this. What if I got accused of something? It was an accident, but what if the cops didn’t see it that way? Or what if it
wasn’t
an accident? I did hit him with my skateboard. Was that against the law? Maybe it was self-defense. I didn’t know. I had to think. I had to process in my brain just exactly what had happened.
We were on the train.... The security guard saw us....

It was no use. My brain wouldn’t work. I could not maintain a single clear thought. Another wave of panic swept through me. My whole body shook violently. I felt something tickling my jaw. I touched my cheek. Tears were pouring down my face.

I backed away from the car. I had to go someplace where I could calm down for a minute and stop freaking out. I walked in one direction, then another. My brain was in chaos, and my body was in total panic. There was a big parking lot across from the tracks. I went toward it. I walked at first, then walked faster, then I started to run....

 

Dear

So yeah, that’s where I found myself. The hardest thing was not to run. I kept starting to run and then stopping myself. I was also hyperventilating. I tried to remember how you stopped that. You were supposed to breathe in a bag or something.

I ended up running toward the river. I jogged halfway across the parking lot before I realized I still had my skateboard. I jumped on it and instantly fell. I scraped my arm pretty bad, but I didn’t stop to look. I jumped up and kept going.

At the end of the parking lot, I found an access road that ran parallel to the river. I could see the River Walk, the long bike path that goes by the river. I had skated it many times. But there might be people there, so I stayed away.

I kept to the access road. My brain was still in chaos, but my body had a definite objective: to get as far from those train tracks as I possibly could. That meant going to the left, going south, along the river. Thank God I had my skateboard.

I pushed along the asphalt as fast as I could. The access road was deserted. The parking lots were deserted. I noticed several places I could have stopped and tried to gather my thoughts. But I didn’t. I was running now. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.

The good news was: I made good time. The access road went from parking lot to parking lot, none of which were in use. I was putting a lot of distance between myself and that train yard. And no one had seen me.

Then, out of nowhere, a car appeared behind me. I didn’t have time to hide. I didn’t have time to do anything. It sped past me. It was some sort of sports car, music was blaring, it was going too fast—partiers, obviously. I remembered: It was Saturday night.

I kept skating. I went another half mile or so and came to the Hawthorne Bridge. I had to cross the river at some point, to get to my car. The Hawthorne Bridge had a nice wide bicycle/pedestrian walkway. It was probably the best place to cross. It definitely had the most foot traffic. I picked up my skateboard and ran up the stairs.