Thin Luck

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

California - Section 192

Assault

THE WHISTLE FROM the train woke me up even before the violent shaking of the bridge. The smell of my body was pungent. My theory about getting used to the smell fell apart in the baking hot sun. The whistle blew again. I looked down the bridge to see the solid bright light, like a man-made sun rising in the wrong direction. The train was upon me before I had a chance to wake up. The bridge shook from the moment the train entered. I held on to the beams with what energy I had left. Bits of dirt and rocks kicked up, stinging my flesh. I turned away from the train and shut my eyes tight.

The train seemed to last forever. When it was over I coughed in the dust left in the train's wake. My cough turned to hiccups in the dry air. I stood there trying to gather my wits with a cough and hiccup fit.

My mouth was parched. My lips were cracked. My skin felt like leather. I looked out upon the desert horizon. Miles of cactus and painted rock spread out before me like the painted backdrop in a mural.

I stood up to walk down the railroad trestle, and my ankle caught and twisted slightly. In the corner of my eye I saw the depths of the nearly dry creek below. It was at least twice the distance in the light than I imagined in the dark. I couldn't see anything of the man. I wondered if he walked on, or jumped.

"No," I said. I wanted to cry, but my body was so void of hydration nothing came out but sobs. The guilt shook through my body like boiling hot water.

Maybe if I'd stayed awake he would have...but no. You can't watch people all the time. Justice scolded me once after our father left, "I can't watch you all the time. You make mistakes without thinking. You say things that hurt people." Nick had said something similar too.

Had I said something to hurt Bill? He was already hurting so much. I just wanted to talk to someone-someone that wasn't threatening my life or needing anything from me. But he needed something from me. He needed for me to listen.

But now all I wanted was to be with Kyle. I wanted to say nice things to him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. I wanted to give him kisses. I wanted to listen to his little voice.

I looked down again, and then at the jacket. I took it off. If he was dead, I didn't want a dead man's jacket, not in the blazing sun anyway.

I needed water.

The walk down the trestle was quiet. At the end of the bridge there was a sign:

Need to talk to someone? There is hope. Please use this phone.

Did he see the phone? He should have talked to someone-someone besides me. I stared at the curves of the phone, contemplating picking it up myself. An insanity plea might hold up given all the evidence from my last few days, but I turned away from the phone, just like Bill might have.

I heard the highway again as I crested the hill away from the train tracks.

My ankle was swollen and my skin was lobster red when I reached the highway at least two hours later. I stuck my thumb out, spinning the wheel of my 'thin luck.'

One car, covered in 'Jesus saves' bumper stickers, pulled over but then quickly pulled back onto the road. I could see the occupants arguing before the man pulled back onto the highway.

An older car, no bumper stickers, with Florida license plates pulled off the highway in front of me. I fast walked to the car as quickly as my hobbling feet would go. When I opened the door he was throwing empty water bottles in the back seat. I hoped there were full bottles somewhere in the car.