Along the Rails

Jack

c h a p t e r 4

Stepping out of the café. I brought my hands to my mouth, breathing to warm them up. I looked to my right in the direction to which Jack had gone.

I caught sight of him and followed behind, unsure of what to say or where he was going. We turned a corner and I stopped in my tracks as it led into an alleyway. I hesitated, looking back and forth between the safe haven of the street and the abandoned, dark alley.

I decided that getting murdered would not get me to my father. Turning away, I took a few steps before I was stopped.

"Why were you following me?" My breathing quickened at his voice and slowly I turned around to face the man I had learned to be Jack.

"I need to find grasshopper. He's—" I hesitated, unsure of whether to take a bet. I took the chance. "He's my dad."

Jack gave me a blank expression and suddenly I became worried that I said the wrong thing. Then he surprised me.

"You're Charlie, aren't you." My shocked expression made him grin and shake his head. "Your dad talks about you a lot. You're his favorite."

"So I've heard." He laughs, unable to contain himself, causing me to break into a smile.

he quietened and gave me a curious look, probably wondering why I was searching for dad. "Come with me. We'll talk along the way."

As I walked beside him, a sense of calmness washed over me. Soon I would get the answers I had been searching for. I would find the person I loved and bring him back home so that we all could be a family again.

"How old are you Charlie?"

"Seventeen."

"You're definitely a scrawny boy." I had forgotten how I looked and I wondered if I should correct him. I decided against it.

"Since father has been away, we barely have food in the house to feed ourselves. I hope that by finding him, we can start gaining an actual live-able income." I didn't mention that I wanted us to be a family again as that may have come out as cheesy.

"He's earning a suitable income now, though. I know it 'cause I control his money."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I have a bank account in his name and I organize his clients."

"Like a secretary?"

"Sort of."

"So... is dad a trafficker?" Upon hearing this, Jack stops abruptly, looking up and down for anyone who might be listening.

"It isn't safe to talk about this here. You'll have to wait." Immediately he began to walk again, this time, at a faster pace. I jogged to catch up with him, my backpack swinging back and forth across my shoulders.

After several minutes, we reached the edge of town and headed North. We finally came upon what appeared to be an abandoned campground.

Sitting down, I watched as Jack gathered sticks. Throwing them into the fire-pit, he pulled out a match and struck a flame. Settling down, we both sat in the midst of a crackling fire, smoke wafting up into the grey sky. He turned his attention to me.

"What do you know about your dad?

I shifted, unsure where this could go. "Nothing much. He just came and went every couple of months. He never stayed long. Only so much as the stories he had to tell. After he ran out of things to say, he left without too much of a farewell.

'About eight months ago, he left, only bidding me goodbye. He hasn't returned since." Jack sighed, giving me what appeared to be a look of sympathy.

"Grasshopper has never been good at staying in one place for a long period of time. His nomadic way of life gets the best of him. Perhaps that explains why he left all the time. However, I have no answer as to why he would stay away as long as that. He loves his family. It's obvious in the way he speaks about you. His eyes light up and you san see a bit of sadness in his mannerisms."

"But if he loved us and was nomadic, then why couldn't he bring us along with him?" Again, Jack stiffened and looked around, double-checking to make sure no-one was around to hear what he was about to say.

"Do you know where the money that your father brought home came from? Did he ever tell your mom or talk about it when telling you stories?"

"No. It never occurred to ask where he went or what he did. He gave us stories of his adventures and the places he saw and the people he met; that's all we wanted to hear. " Jack needed in response.

"Your dad, does, illegal stuff." My heart froze and the worst scenario came to my mind.

"Is my dad a hitman?" He shakes his head, forcing down a smile.

"No, not like that. It's illegal but not in the sense that it is bad and immoral." My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"So... what exactly does he do?"

"He's a train-hopper. He is paid to take clients from one place to another. He's one of the best." Again I was confused.

"It's not that difficult to travel on trains." Upon hearing this, his eyes narrowed, giving me a look that made me squirm.

"And what, may I ask, qualifies you to make that statement?" I muttered my response and he brought his hand to his ear. "What did you say Charlie?" I cringed at the emphasis on my name.

"I just figured that if I could do it without getting caught, then anyone else could do it." His expression softened.

"You don't mean to say that you traveled all this way by train hopping, do you?" I nodded in affirmation and it was his turn to have a look of surprise.

"Did your dad teach you?"

"No."

"Hm." We sat in silence, watching the clouds pass by us, headed towards some unknown destination.

He turned to me. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Me too." Standing up, he brushed off grass that had clumped onto his pants. "I don't have any food left. I'm going to head into town. Stay here and rest. You may have slept on the train but if you're like me, trains rattle you so much that sleep is just an illusion."

Without another word, he walked towards where we had come from, leaving me alone.

Warming my hands over the fire, I kept wondering why I was doing this. Why I was putting my life at risk. I always got back the same two answers: dad and family. Moments later, I went to my bag, pulling out a blanket. Placing my backpack behind my head for a pillow, I laid down on the cold, hard ground and fell into a deep sleep.