Everyone's Hero: The Unofficial Novelization

Chapter 5

Yankee could have taken the 20th Century Limited all the way to Chicago....if only he had enough money for the entire journey. He tried his best to avoid the Cubs and looked out for Babe or any other members of the Yankees. But aside from a few passengers, no one on either side had taken the opportunity to relax in the observation car. By the time the train stopped in Buffalo, it was getting dark. The conductor noticed the boy and asked him for his ticket, after making his rounds collecting them. Yankee, who was smart enough to put on a decent act, fibbed:

"I'm sorry, mistah. I musta left it at the home."

"How much money do you have?"

"Three dollars and twenty cents."

The conductor shook his head, visibly telling Yankee that he was not a welcome passenger anymore.

"Then I'm afraid you're gonna have to walk, we don't allow stowaways on the Limited."

Yankee left his seat, carrying both his backpack and the suitcase carrying Darlin' and exited the car via the vestibule. Aside from him, only three men and a couple with their dog in a cage left the train. All Yankee could do next was watch as the 20th Century Limited disappeared out of sight and on it's way to Chicago, taking both baseball teams with them.

Buffalo's Central Terminal station was built three years ago and was built in an Art Deco style. It had over twenty-eight platforms and consisted of interconnected buildings with an office tower looming above them. The concourse had a curved roof with a clock in the middle floor and four ticket booths. This part of the station was sparsely populated by the time Yankee entered it. He sat down under the first ticket office on the right hand side and opened up the black case.

"At least I got the bat," he sighed in relief.

He turned the bat around. In his head, he imaged Darlin' having the face of an archetypical southern belle, with sky blue eyes and pink-red lips. And she also had a Dixie accent mixed in with that of a Baltimorean.

"How you do, darling?" she said in her southern-fried voice.

"Fine," said the astounded Yankee, as though it was really happening in front of his eyes.

"I suppose somebody ought to tell you that I am nothing other than the bat of Babe Ruth himself. Born of a 1000-year-old tree on the side of Mount Olympus. Struck by lightning, and carved by monks using the horn of a boar."

"Since when did monks make horns?" came the voice of Screwy from inside the backpack.

Yankee took the ball out of the backpack and held up to the top of Darlin'.

"I'd like you to meet Screwy. I saved him from being abandoned at the sandlot."

"Sandlot?"

"In the Bronx."

"The Bronx? Then you must live close to Yankee Stadium! You'd better take me back there right away!"

"It's too late now. Babe and the other Yankees are heading to Chicago for the last two games. I don't even know if they won without your help today."

"Even if I was stolen, Babe could use any bat he'd like. He's got talent, not luck. He just used me for the last six years or so."

"I know," said Yankee. "My Dad told me all about you. He also said you were made in Kentucky."

"It's your imagination, honey. You can choose whatever story you wanna give me."

"Then I'd go by the Mount Olympus one."

Darlin' smiled.

"I would have preferred that too. Sometimes the real facts can be boring at times and it excites readers."