Title Pending

Here's the beginning of a short story I conjured up from the hobo documentary I watched in Lit. Hopefully I'll finish it before too long and update this post.

The steady tattoo of the rails below as the car glided across the smooth steel tracks rang sonorously in the cramped car, rattling the crates as they shifted in time with the movement of the train. Huddled in between them, Lucian sat, nibbling on the stale remnants of the cucumber and butter sandwiches he had hobbled together from the charity of a grocer the night before. With his long legs at his bony chest and his arms squeezed between two boxes, he idly watched the flickering light from the crack in the door. As he swallowed his last bit of food, he sighed, shifting into as comfortable positions as he could achieve wedged in between the gigantic boxes. All of the other men riding the boxcar had long gotten off, getting off at Las Vegas before hitting California.

Lucian, however, was keen on hitting Los Angeles and getting a job in a restaurant there. He knew he could wash dishes and get a good meal if he was lucky and maybe be able to get a nice place to sleep. He had become sick and tired of riding the rails all the way from Baltimore, but there was little work in the town after the crisis a few years back, and his father had left him and his mother alone to sustain themselves on whatever money she could muster.

Lost in his thought, he didn’t seem to notice the shadows on the floor begin to slow their flickering dance. The tattoo soon fell silent, and with a lurch and a sigh, the train came to a halt, throwing him forward from his tight nook. Suddenly, he found himself on the wooden floor with a mouth full of sawdust and soot.

“Hey, kid, need a hand?”

Coughing, he raised his head to see a man towering above him dressed in a worn out suit coat and a pair of torn slacks, reaching down to help him on his feet. A bit hesitantly, he took the man’s offer, gripping his calloused palm as he righted himself.

“I been watchin’ you since ya got on. Been wonderin’ what a kid like you’s been doin’ hoppin’ trains.”

“Been tryin’ to get to Los Angeles to get a job and help my mama.” Lucian explained between hacks.

The man simply shook his head and dipped a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a shining pocket watch that looked as if it had been bought yesterday.

“Looks like we got enough time for lunch. Lemme take ya into town and buy ya a sandwich.” He offered.

“T-thanks, mister.” Lucian stuttered, brushing the dust from his body.

He hopped off the car, gesturing for Lucian to follow.

“So, what’s your name, boy?”

“Lucian. You?”
“The name’s Gabe.”