The Tracks

III




Darrell Streeps leaned back against the banking of the railroad tracks. Robert Stevens passed him the joint they had rolled. They had rolled it in the paper from a large cigar; he pressed it to his lips and inhaled. He held it in until he felt it burn in his throat. Then he looked up into the clear blue sky and blew the smoke out slowly, watching it catch the sun, curling and dissipating. He laid his head back on the grass of the embankment and stared up at the sky, letting the sun warm his face.
It was a secluded spot, very near to the center of town, being just a couple of minutes walk from the nearest convenience store and the high school. But it was completely secluded it had a large stand of trees between the streets and buildings of the town and the field that fell away from the banking of the tracks. It was accessible either by following the railroad tracks or a trail through the woods that came out behind a small woolen mill.
The embankment of the tracks was tall and lying against it Darrell could see nothing but the trees off to the right and the field directly in front of him. A small stream ran through a stone aqueduct under the tracks and emptied into a small pond a little distance off into the field. The field was all knee to hip high grass, broken by stands of brush and a group of cat nine tails near the pond. The grasshoppers and other insects were making that gentle hiss that fields make under the late spring sun. Darrell could dimly make out the sound of the machines working in the lumber yard on the other side of the trees that capped in the opposite end of the field. On the other side of the tracks a stand of trees sheltered a residential area from the sights and the sounds of the railroad tracks.
The sun was warm on Darrell's face and the weather as well as the chemical circumstances made the spot an idyllic scene. It was a place that they often used to enjoy these small indulgences, and was a spot they frequented often during the late spring and summer months.
Darrell Streeps lay with his head against the soft grass. He looked at his two friends sitting there in the grass, like children, carefree and naïve. Darrell was happy. He was in a good mood, there was beautiful weather, and he was in great company. As Darrell looked at his friends’ laughing faces suddenly a cloud moved over the sun. While it was still bright out everything had a slightly darker pallor to it. Colors took on a greyer tint. He could almost feel the mood of the group do the same. He looked at his friends and he no longer saw the care free happiness of childhood. All around them all he could see was the grey mist of a slow death. Suddenly they seemed like haggard old men who had seen too much. Their eyes seemed to have a look like he had seen in the eyes of soot stained coal miners. Or in all those pictures of war. That same empty look that glared back at him, or through him rather, from the eyes of soldiers and refugees. He looked out at the beautiful field and sky, and back to his friends. What a strange place for his friends to be fighting a war. What a strange war they fought.
He looked at Robert Stevens. His eyes took in the big overworked body. Like an old Clydesdale that had pulled too heavy a wagon for too long. His brawny shoulders had a sag about them as if they belonged to a man forty years older and weaker, forty years more tired. He worked hard and he played hard. Darrell thought he was trying to build a palace for Jessica. It was at least obvious he was trying to build a future.
When Robert wasn’t working or with Jessica he was usually out partying with Darrell. He supposed they cut quite a pair on Friday and Saturday nights, “beer drinkin’ and hell raising”. They’d gotten into fights together in other towns and hadn’t lost many. They were young men in their prime doing their best to throw themselves away, or at least to see how much punishment they could take. They had enjoyed every minute of it.
He turned to his friend Caleb as he blew out a hit in a well practiced familiar way. He sat sprawled on the hillside, his lanky body looking relaxed almost to the point of non existence. Darrell Streeps remembered how bright Caleb had been in middle school. He had always done his homework, and had been well liked by all his teachers. He remembered playing peewee basketball with him, and then playing with him on the all star travel team. He had always given him shit for playing soccer instead of football.
He thought back to the night he had first introduced Caleb Lawndale to pot. They were both freshmen, and Darrell had started smoking a few weeks before. It was a new and exciting world and he was eager to share its secrets with his friend. He had spent the night at Caleb’s house and they had smoked it out of his bedroom window from a corn cob pipe, which Caleb later named john boy and would serve them faithfully for years to come. They had spent the rest of the night eating ice cream sandwiches and laughing hysterically at Monty Python.
Caleb had taken to marijuana at an alarming rate. It didn’t take him long to pass Darrell in how much he smoked. He now smoked in a week more than Darrell would in a month. It also wasn’t long before he discovered other drugs. Darrell Streeps looked at his friend and wondered what he would do with his life.
He turned inward. What did he have in store for his future? He could sense that same mist around himself. He thought of his first drink, his first fight, his first time being with a girl. He had been twelve when he had had his first drink.
Robert Stevens passed him the joint. He took it and hit it greedily. The cloud moved from in front of the sun and the world became bright again. Darrell Streeps lay back, closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face.
***
They sat there for a while enjoying the beautiful day. Caleb rolled a few more joints from a pouch that he wore around his neck. They lay against the hillside in the soft dry grass. The sun was warm on their skin. He had his shirt off and was lying on top of it, soaking in as much sun as possible.
They whiled away the day there laughing, smoking, joking. Occasionally they would toss a Frisbee between joints. This was their favorite pastime when they were burnt. It reminded Darrell of when he used to go to the beach with his father and his aunts.
“So Darrell, you going to school next year?”
“Yeah I’m pretty sure. The maritime academy is interested. I sent an application.”
“You’re gonna be a sailor?” a very stoned Caleb Lawndale suddenly broke in.
“Maybe,” Darrell Streeps answered his friend. “Or maybe I’ll just go to State and party it up.” He gave them a big grin.
“Yeah college would be pretty sweet.” Caleb Lawndale said.
“Are you going?” Robert Stevens asked him.
“I dunno, I guess. I haven’t filled out any applications.”
“Jeeze man, you really need to get on that. You should already have those in.” Darrell Streeps said.
“Where do you want to go anyway?” Robert asked him.
“I dunno. I guess State would be fine.”
“You gotta get your shit together dude, what do you want to do?”
“Umm… get high.” He gave them a laugh and the little group fell into silence.
As he lay there worrying about his friend Darrell felt the ground under his head begin to vibrate and hum.
“Train’s coming Robert Stevens said as he passed the joint to Caleb.
Soon they heard the whistle and saw it coming around the bend in the tracks. They all stood up on the hill to watch the train go by. Like three little boys happy to see the vision of their toys come to life.
And then all of a sudden it was roaring past them, a screaming, towering mass of steel. Its wind blowing their hair as it passed. From where they stood on the hill the wheels contacted the tracks at eye level. They squealed by, metal screeching on metal, throwing sparks into the bed of crushed rock that surrounded the tracks. The train towered above them like a large steel beast. The empty cars swayed back and forth, top heavy, as the train sped through, looking as if they might tip over at any moment. They carried nothing but graffiti, obscenities, mottos, illegible words, names, symbols. Anonymous messages from another town. Some hastily scrawled, some artfully done. White Power. Fuck. Larry was here. John loves Sarah. Fuck pigs. All these sped by, messages in their steel bottle, borne across a barren sea from one lonely isle to the next.
Darrell watched the dull colored metal speed by in awe. The train seemed to go on forever. He looked to his friends. All stood in silence gazing at the intruder to their tranquil environment. The noise was so loud it eliminated any conversation, deafening each to all but his own thoughts.
And then, as quickly as it had come the train was gone. They watched the last car fall off into the distance, leaving their serene habitat. As if the beast had seen all it had wanted of this land and was off to rape the next. It had come and it was gone. But others like it would come again. And they too would leave just as quickly. A permanence of impermanence.
They all, moving as one, took a few steps down the hill and lay back down in their former positions. They just sat in silence for a while, soaking in the sun and relaxing body and mind alike.
“Where do you think that train was going?”
“I’ll tell you where it’s going.” Said Robert Stevens. “It’s going back up to Bradford to get a load of lumber and pulp. Then it’ll come back through and on down south to Windsport to unload.”
“It’s nice down there in Windsport. Those rich kids throw the craziest parties.”
“Yeah they do Streeps. Remember when you got in a fight, with like five or six of ‘em. Me and Tommy Douglas had to come bail your ass out.”
“Yeah I remember. That kid had a nice huge house.”
“Man you had two of ‘em down and bleeding on the floor, before one of them got a hold of you and the rest rushed in. you were so drunk you could barely stand, but boy were you dishing it out that night.”
“Yeah I guess I was.” Darrell said unenthusiastically.
“Now why did those guys want to bash you head in again?” Robert asked with a playful grin.
“Umm, I’m not sure I remember. I was pretty drunk that night.”
“No I bet you do.” Robert continued. He knew Darrell didn’t want to talk about it but he kept on prodding with that same devilish grin. “I seem to remember something… you were all wet for some reason.” He started to snicker a little bit.
“Come on Darrell. Why’d all those preps want to beat your ass?” Caleb broke in with outright curiosity. Robert was laughing full on by now. “Come on Darrell tell him.”
Darrell looked down and ran his hands through his thick hair sheepishly. “Well the guy whose house it was caught me in his pool with his girlfriend.” He said embarrassed.
Robert Stevens roared with laughter.
“Holy shit!” Caleb exclaimed. “Then what?”
“Well he said something along the lines of: ‘Get the fuck off my girlfriend!’ and I was piss drunk so I yell back at him: ‘Gimme a minute preppy, I’m not quite finished yet!’”
Robert was rolling on the ground now tears pouring down his face. Caleb sat there with a mixture of delight and incredulity on his face.
“Well he jumps down into the pool and starts coming at me. So I untangle myself and step up and cool him right there in the pool. A couple of preppy girls came and fished him out. I went back over to that girl, Katie or Cassandra or some shit, and I finished up.”
Robert was wiping his eyes and between bouts of laughter he said: “He got up an’ cooled the little rich kid right there in his own pool. Ka pow! One big right, right up under preppy’s jaw. And then…” he started laughing again and it was a minute before he could continue. “And then… hahahaha, and then he just swims back over and finishes what he was doing!” Robert fell back on the ground with a fresh ripple of laughter and tears.
Caleb Lawndale stared at both of them in amazement. Darrell was laughing along with his friend now starting to feel his eyes water up.
“He must have been the big dog around there; probably captain of the soccer team or something, cuz as soon as you got out of the pool a whole shitload of his preppy buddies came at you.”
“Kid had like three sports cars of his own, probably had a yaught too.”
“Man you shoulda seen yourself standing there by the pool all wet, in just your shorts. Actually you weren’t standing, you were more like wavering.”
They sat there laughing on the hillside. “Fuck Windsport! Fucking rich kids, got everything handed to ‘em whenever they want it. ‘Can I have a car dad?’ ‘Can I have the beach house for the summer?’ ‘Can I have some money for beer?’ Fuck them!
“That was our night though, wasn’t it Darrell? Not theirs.”
“Yeah I suppose it was. It sure would be nice to get outta this shit town though wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah it would.” Caleb Lawndale said.
“I’d like to just leave. Drop everything and just start walking. Hitch a few rides to some place warm and sleep on a beach. Panhandle and do odd jobs for food.”
“Yeah, and for drugs too.” Caleb laughed.
“So you would just want to bum it?” Robert asked with disgust.
“Yeah I guess. Just get out there and live. Survive. Wake up in a different place every morning. See different faces every day. Just experience life.”
“You two are crazy.” He said. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah maybe your right.” Darrell Streeps said. He lay back down under the sun and fell asleep. Soon he was dreaming of an open road into the setting sun.