text: Crossing the street to a gas station, you spot a police car coming toward you from down the street. You step up your pace and put Harvey between you and it. You look around for a place to hide, but there isn't anything close. You prepare yourself in case he stops, but all you can hope for is to run as fast as you can and hope that you can get away. You let out a sigh as it goes on by and the officer behind the wheel doesn't even look over at you.
  
  Stepping through the open door, you are hit by a blast of not quite so hot air. A big shop fan rests against the back wall and is aimed directly at the door. A nice looking man in thick glasses and stained coveralls sits just to the right of it and has his nose buried in a newspaper.
  
  "Ahem," Harvey clears his throat to get the guy's attention.
  
  "Howdy," says the attendant, leaning forward so that the legs of his folding chair touch the floor, "What can I do for you?"
  
  "We were hoping to get some water. Drinking water. And maybe a jug or something to put it in."
  
  You can see the disappointment on the attendant's face as he draws his lips back, but it quickly shifts into a forced smile. "Sure thing. I think there might be one around back by the dumpster."
  
  "Thanks," Harvey says as he heads back out the front door.
  
  You hang back and stand there looking at the guy with a sheepish smile until you finally build up enough nerve to blurt out "Do you buy bottles?"
  
  "Sure thing, little man. You got some you wanna trade in?"
  
  "Uh huh." You dig through you bag and pull out the two root beer bottles. You stand there looking down at them and remember sharing them with Jane. You knew you'd have to sell them eventually, but now you aren't sure that you really want to.
  
  "Just the two, then?"
  
  You wipe the film from your eyes that has started to develop and look up at him. You nod.
  
  "I think I have it right here—" he says, digging in his pocket. "Yeah, here you go. Six cents. You can put 'em over there with those," he points after handing you the coins.
  
  From the little wire rack by the front door, you grab a couple plastic tubes of peanuts. They are marked twenty-five cents and you think you have more than enough in change. You pull out the plastic bread wrapper and start counting out pennies on the only bare spot on the counter. The attendant watches you and drums his fingers impatiently.
  
  "That's it."
  
  You look up and see him sliding the pile off into his hand. "That's not fifty cents."
  
  "Yeah, it is. You must've just miscounted."
  
  You grin up at him. You'd only given him a little over thirty cents so either he is really nice and doing you a favor or else he just doesn't want all your pennies. He smiles warmly back.
  
  You quickly twist the bag of money and shove it way down deep in your pocket before Harvey comes back. He seems that he's on your side so far, but if he can steal from random strangers he might just take from you, too. You drop the peanuts into your bag for later in case you have to go too long without food.
  
  You're leaning with your back against the metal door frame when Harvey returns with two jugs. He and the attendant talk briefly before the two of you head around the side of the building to the faucet and fill the jugs. You have a huge lump in your throat and barely even take notice of anything around you for quite a little while. Even bending down and taking giant gulps straight from the spigot doesn't make it go down. It just sort of hangs there. The last thing you do is pitch the last whiskey bottle in the dumpster before the two of you head back toward the tracks.
  
  It's several hours before a train comes into view. You hear the blasting horn from miles away and you sit staring in the direction of the blast. It is going the wrong way, however, so you have to keep waiting. You and Harvey have found yourselves a nice comfy spot in the shade of a metal building in some scrub brush where no one can see you.
  
  Harvey has been leaning with his back against a small tree and every once in a while he lets out a snort that would wake any normal person from a sound sleep. Not him, though. Even though he's had much more rest than you, he still looks like an old, old man. His gray doesn't end at his hairline, but keeps going all the way down his face subcutaneously.
  
  Sometime before dark and just when you finally feel like you could stand some sleep yourself, you hear a long, blaring horn from the opposite direction.
  
  "That's our ride," says Harvey, opening his eyes and stretching to get the kinks out.
  
  You watch as the engine finally enters the yard, but it keeps going and doesn't slow any more than a fast walking pace. Harvey cranes his neck and strains to try and see further down its length. There are no boxcars. All you can see are flatcars and hoppers. A long stretch of flatcars are loaded with sea containers probably bound for the coast and don't offer any space at all around them, but one of the last cars is only half full at the back.
  
  Harvey trots toward it and you dash around him. After lofting your bag over the side, he grabs you around your middle and hefts you up. He tosses his coat and the water jugs at your feet before trotting up to the very front where there is a step.
  
  "Hey! Get away from there!" you hear coming from the tail end of the train. "That's private property!"
  
  You duck into a corner made by the slightly mismatched cargo containers and watch as Harvey takes a step backward. He looks up at you as the train whisks you by and turns away from the tracks. You peek around the container to see two men rush up to him. They take him by the arms and lead him back across the tracks. One of them is talking on a walkie-talkie. What are they going to do to him?
  
  Did they see you? You have no idea. If they did, they might call ahead to stop the train and then what would you do?
  > ride it out
  You don't know what else you can do except to ride this one out. Even if you went back to find Harvey, there's no way of knowing if you could get to him without being spotted and sent back to your mom. You'll just have to be ready for them when the train starts to slow down at the next town. You can jump off early and run just to be on the safe side. You can't afford to lose any more time.
  
  It's only been half a day when you come within sight of a town. You gather your stuff together and cling to the side of the sliding door. The gravel drops off sharply just beyond the tracks and the dense bushy undergrowth looks like it would make for a rather soft landing.
  
  You are poised and ready when the train starts to slow down. You wait for the perfect opening and then leap as far as you can toward the brush. You don't clear the edge of the right of way, but still tumble into the undergrowth and the back of your head strikes the base of a large sapling. Your nose is instantly filled with a burning, coppery stench and the world blinks out.
  
  When you come to, it's just getting dark and the street lights are beginning to glow orange as far as the eye can see. This is no ordinary town—it stretches out for miles and is already giving off a glow comparable to that of the setting sun.
  
  Another track stretching off into the far yonder joins with the one you're on and you can see yet another up ahead. They cling to each other and whip back and forth across each other at switches. There's a huge yard with trains pointing this way and that and beyond it is a highway over pass that seems to just hang there with a steady stream of cars flowing in both directions.
  
  You make your way over to the far side to keep out of sight of the headlamps of the oncoming trains and follow the tracks for nearly an hour—careful to stay with the majority as they snake their way westward—doing your best to not get sidetracked.
  
  Up ahead and on the same side of the arteries of tracks as you you see a train just sitting there by a string of small warehouses and aimed in the right direction. You can hear the engine reverberating and there are bright lights on tripods scattered all around. There are some flatcars with men busy loading large crates onto them using forklifts from the loading dock and in the gloom between them and the engine is a string of boxcars. You can see from here that their doors are wide open. If only you could make it inside one without being spotted.
  
  You walk up behind the metal buildings and then through the gap between until you are right across from the darkest one and watch the men carefully for your opening. The door is only a few inches higher than the platform so you won't have any trouble getting inside. You only have to wait for the right moment.
  
  After the crates have been chained down and the forklifts have gone away, the men start taking the lights down one by one and you hear the engine slowly rev up. You'll have to time this just right.
  
  Luck is on your side. There is no one in sight when the train starts inching forward and you make your dash. You make your way as quickly between the slatted crates and the wall as you can to the front of the car where you find just enough crawl space to conceal yourself and your stuff.
  
  The smell is overpowering and your mouth begins to water uncontrollably. The crates are packed full with cantaloupes and you haven't eaten anything since the remainder of peanuts you had last night. You are famished!
  
  You don't even bother with getting the knife out of the 'treasure chest'. You just reach in and punch a hole in one with your fist. You pull out handful after handful of slimy goodness and cram it into your mouth. It's so dark that you can't even see it, but you know how light and orange it must be. You'll definitely be filling your belly this night. The thought strikes you that you could take a couple along with you for good measure when you leave the train so while you're filling your gullet you also pry off enough of the slats to pull out a couple of good sized ones and pack them in the blanket in your bag.
  
  When you're finally lulled to sleep by the clacking rails, you are returned to the night you and Jane spent on that train and all the plans you and she had made. Only this time, the two of you are on your way to see the Grand Canyon and are without a care in the world. She gives you a huge grin and throws her arms around you—planting a big kiss on your cheek—and hugging you for all you are worth.
  
  The day comes much too soon and you stagger over to the open doorway to relieve yourself. You stand there and marvel at how far you can see. Snaking its way through a long valley is a river so blue that it makes your heart stop. On both sides it is lush with trees and you spot a large flock of birds winding and twisting like dust devils above the dense foliage. All is right with the world. You know you are going to make it just fine.