Chapter 11 - The Refugees

It's a good thing we get along! - The Swiss Family Robinson

In moments we had reached the other side of the government building, dropped Thad like a load of bricks, and waited, hands on our knees, for the train to pass. Jonathan kept his face peeked around the edge of the building, waiting to sight the locomotive.

“Good times, Dewey,” he called back at me, as he leaned against the corner of the building. “I'm so glad you've invited us to join you in this grand adventure.”

I ignored Jonathan and looked to Kenzie. “What do we do now?” I asked.

Kenzie thought about it for a moment, then said, “Well, we get back to the cart, and then we start heading north again, once that train is out of sight.”

“Sounds good,” I replied.

Aly had been sitting in the grass, leaning against the government building. She spoke now, “Do you think they are all gone?”

“Who?” asked Kenzie.

“All of the people in this town. Do think the train just gobbled them up?”

Kenzie bit her lip and glanced nervously at me. “I don't know,” she said. “I don't know what else might have happened to them.”

Aly frowned. “Did you see when the next train was supposed to arrive?” she asked Kenzie.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” Kenzie replied, “but I don't think that means we need to stay around and look for people. By tomorrow morning I want to be as far away from those tracks as possible.”

“Ditto,” said Jonathan, not turning his head from the corner. Aly chose not to reply.

“Do you see it?” I asked him.

“Yup,” he said. “You know, just looking at it still gives me the willies, but at the same time I can't help thinking, 'Hey, it's just a train. What's the big deal?'”

I did not reply. His point was a good one. Had I really just been acting childish earlier, when we ran across that main street? The voices, the signs, the empty buildings all suggested one very sinister thing, but there was no reason to think that the train would just jump its tracks and try to eat people.

A few minutes later, Jonathan turned away from the corner and indicated that the coast was clear. Breathing a sigh of relief, I grabbed my piece of Thad, and my cousins did the same. Now that the threat had vanished in the distance, we felt much safer and proceeded slowly to our cart, taking breaks as necessary to relieve the strain of the surprisingly heavy Thad.

When we reached the cart, Heppy flew up into the air with joy and, I suppose, relief, then settled himself on Thad's chest and would not move. We heaved the man into the back of the cart. Jonathan, Aly, and I lumbered up onto the seat, and Kenzie took the fore, pulling at Nestor the mule's bit.

As the wheels began to move, Aly spoke up. “Guys,” she began, “I just don't feel right, leaving this place. Can't we at least take one quick look around?”

Kenzie and Jonathan said nothing. I sighed and thought of Madison. She would agree with Aly. To leave this town without making sure there were no people we could help would be wrong. I imagined the face of Maddy contorted into stern disapproval. I wanted to leave this place with all of my soul, but to do so would have been wrong. I spoke up. “She's right, guys. To just leave now without at least taking a few seconds to look around would be exactly the opposite of what Abraham wants us to do. We are out to save lives. Leaving now might do exactly the opposite.”

Kenzie groaned. “The key word there, Dewey, is 'might.'” She kept walking for a few moments, but I already knew I had her. If she disagreed, she would not have said anything at all. Finally, she stopped. “OK. If this is what we have to do, we'll do it. You've got one hour, Dewey. I may be stupid, but I'm not suicidal.”

Somehow, I knew an hour would be more than enough. Aly and I climbed down from the cart. Grumbling, Jonathan followed. The four of us walked through another alley between houses, and this time found ourselves in a town that was empty, but no longer evil and terrifying. It simply seemed like a place where everyone had decided to pack up and leave one day.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Kenzie asked me.

I thought about it for a second, then said, “Where is the one building in this town that is guaranteed to have bars, heavy doors, locks, and possibly a few weapons?” Kenzie and Jonathan looked at one another, then looked north. Aly and I followed their gazes. “The government building,” I said.

Jonathan replied, “If you had said the train station, I would have punched you.” He did not sound like he was joking.

As we walked up the dusty street, I got my first good look at the government building. Like the bar Thad had been staying at, it was two stories. The similarities ended there. Where the bar had been open and inviting, this building looked stern, businesslike, and dark. Every window had thick, wrought iron bars. The front doors were a dark, solid oak that must have been imported. The rest of the buildings in town were made of cracked lumber. This one was stone. In other times it might have been an high security prison, guaranteed to keep the inmates in. Now it looked like an imposing fortress or castle, buttressed against the evil onslaught of Dekancy Cagree.

When we neared the mighty oak doors, I was reminded of The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy Gail and her companions arrived at the great gate of the Emerald City. Except the Emerald City was made of stone and wrought iron; we were still in Kansas; and Kansas had creatures that could bite far more viciously than any bunch of flying monkeys could ever hope to. I thought of the train again and shuddered.

“How do we get in?” Jonathan asked, after a few moments of fruitless pushing on the oak door.

I blinked. “I have no idea,” I said, feeling my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

Aly spoke up. “Why don't we just knock?” she suggested. She climbed the two steps that led to the door and rapped her tiny fist three times against the massive doors. They made a small, muffled sound.

The doors did not open. Jonathan started to scoff. Then, from the other side of the door came three massive booms. Jonathan jumped back. Aly stared calmly at the door in front of her.

After a moment, we heard a voice. “Who's there?” The words were short and deep.

“My name is Aly. What's yours?”

A beat and then, “Henry?” The voice seemed nervous and surprised.

“Well, Henry, we are here to save you,” Aly said. “We're headed north. We have a cart of supplies. You and whoever you might have with your are welcome to come along.”

Jonathan started making strangling sounds during this speech. I could not blame him. Henry did not sound like Dekancy Cagree or the old man, but that did not necessarily mean he was a great guy.

The pause this time from behind the door was lengthy. Perhaps he was as startled as we were by Aly's announcement. It suddenly dawned on me exactly how Aly's world worked. I had known for quite some time that everyone loved her, but I never knew why. The simple answer was everyone loved her, because she expected them to love her. They had no other choice. To harm her after she shoved her trust and her life into your hands would be almost worse than harming yourself. I wondered if she had any idea how special she was.

When Henry spoke again, he sounded hesitant, but no longer fearful. “So... so you are the... you aren't with the... the train?” The word “train” sounded harsh and strained, like a forbidden word uttered in a church.

“What? You mean Dekancy Cagree?” Aly said innocently.

“SHHHH! You can't say that name! You've gotta keep quiet! It... he could hear you at any moment!” As the man frantically whispered these words, he threw open the thick, oak door, almost as if he had forgotten that he was guarding them.

Aly had a knack with people.

Henry realized his mistake the moment he saw the four of us, but Jonathan had propped the door open with his foot, barring the man from closing the doors again. Knowing that he was caught, the man put up a brave front and called, “If you folks are with that blasted locomotive, you may as well try and kill me. That's the only way you're getting through these doors.”

Kenzie rolled her eyes. She was good at this and had been perfecting it since she was five. “Look, buddy, we were telling the truth. The train is gone for the day. We're heading north. We decided to take a look around town, just to see if anyone else wanted to come along.”

Henry furrowed his brow for a moment, thinking about this and staring suspiciously at Kenzie and the rest of us. After a few moments he said, “OK. I guess there's no point in arguing any more. If you really were with the train, you'd have taken me and probably everyone else in this building. Follow me, and close the door when you are through.” His voice strained as he said this last part, and I felt the hairs on my back jump up. Henry did not sound relieved that the train had left for the day. There was something the four of us did not know.

After locking and barring the door from the inside, we followed Henry into the foyer. We introduced ourselves and briefly explained everything that had happened to us today, while I looked around. The room opened into one hallway on the left side of the room and one hallway on the right. Also on the right side of the room was a stairway leading to a second floor balcony with four doors, two on the north wall and one each on the east and west walls. The room itself seemed as dry and windswept as the rest of the town. As I looked at the wooden walls that were suffering from dry rot, I realized that I had had nothing to drink that day since breakfast. My mouth felt leathery and parched.

Henry led us into the left hallway, which had three doors on the right side and a blank wall on the left. We stopped at the first door.

Kenzie whispered, “How many are there of you here?”

“One family left,” Henry replied.

“What happened?” she asked.

“The Denver-Kansas City,” he said simply and opened the door. The room was small and reminded me of the turf home shared by Jim and Madison. Two beds lay in the rear left corner of the room. Two children sat upon one of the beds and played quietly together. On a dresser beside them rested a pocket watch. Along the right wall stood an open chimney. A woman with tired brown hair stood in front of a pot that hung in the chimney. As I had not seen smoke rising from the building as we approached it from the outside, I assumed a fresh fire had just been lit. Perhaps these people knew the train schedule as well as we did. Near the top of the back wall, well above anything we could reach, stood a single window.

When she saw us, the woman started and backed into the corner, her eyes wide like a deer, frantically passing from us to her children. Henry rushed to calm her. “It's fine, dear. They're just children. They aren't with the train. We're not in any trouble.” After a few moments soothing her, Henry pulled away. The woman seemed more relaxed, but still tense.

“Honey,” Henry began, “These children claim to be heading north. They offered to give us a ride, if we liked.” He introduced us. The woman was his wife Ruth. His children were named Isaac and Jacob. They were six and seven. It was at that time that I realized something had happened to me. These children were the same age as me, and yet they looked so much younger. Though my body was still that of a child, I felt aged inside. In another world the game of patty cake they were playing might have seemed fun. Now I felt pity and sadness well up within me. These children had lost and seen so much. Yet that pity did not extend to me. I too was a child, but I did not feel the need to return to the little games of patty cake and hide and seek. The world had changed. I had changed.

I looked at Ruth and began to explain our plan, but she cut me off. “You four must be thirsty and famished,” she said. “Would you like a bit of lunch before we move on to more serious business?”

Much as I felt the pressing need for swiftness, I found that I could not say no to the woman. She reminded me too much of my own mother. My cousins had already rushed over to her pot, which was now wafting the strong scent of beef stew. I eagerly followed. As Ruth handed me a bowl and ladled in some of the stew, an uneasy stirring of recognition struck me.

While Henry and Ruth displayed only a passing physical resemblance to my parents, their mannerisms and words matched almost frighteningly. As I sat, leaning against a wall and staring at the two sharing their bowls, I could not help imagine my own parents in their place. My eyes began to well up, and then the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I hid my pain by looking down into my stew.

Only now did I realize how much I missed my parents. I missed the comfort and solace that my mother could give with a simple smile and hug. I missed the silly confidence of my father's grin. The time passed quickly out in these open plains. I could not remember now how long it had been since we walked through that door at three A.M. The amount of time did not matter. My parents and I were separated by something far more terrible than time. A universe stood in the way. A galaxy, a door way, a swarm of grasshoppers, and a train barred my passage home. Until my time in this place was done, I could not go home.

When I had gotten control of myself, I looked up again. No one noticed my momentary weakness. I looked at Henry and Ruth again and was struck again by a wave of sadness, but this was a different kind. It must be truly terrible to hid within these stout walls, knowing that your children could be snatched away at any moment. Once again I saw my parents sitting there, sharing their soup, occasionally glancing with love and sadness at their own children: Isaac, Jacob, myself.

What kind of world was this? Why had nothing been done to help these people? How could that evil old man overcome the good will of Abraham so terribly? As I watched Henry and Ruth at their meager meals, a new resolve filled me. This journey was about more than saving Matty. I wold make this journey now to save the people of this beautiful, windswept prairie. I would make this journey for Maddy and Jim, for the Prairiea, and for Henry, Ruth, Isaac, and Jacob. And I would make this journey for myself.

When we finished eating and Ruth cleared our bowls, Henry signaled for everyone's attention. “Kids, Hon,” he said, “I think it's time to leave this place.”

Ruth interrupted, “Leave!” Her eyes grew wide. “Henry, it's out there still. It ain't left. You know it ain't left. It got the Badens. It got the Carswells. They thought they were safe too. They thought it would be fine this time. They were wrong, Henry!”

Henry struggled to respond to this. I opened my mouth to help him, but he signaled me to stay quiet. “I know, Ruthy. I know 'bout them. We all know 'bout them. They was wrong. But this time I ain't. This time we got something they ain't got. This time we got them.”

Henry waved at the four of us. I was startled. What was special about us? “Hon, do you know what they did? They saw the train! They saw it, Ruthy. They saw it, and they ran! And they lived!” At these words I glanced sharply at Henry. What did he mean by, “They lived.”

Jonathan asked this question. “What? What are you talking about?” he said.

Henry looked at us. “This is Newton,” he said. “This used to be the Port of Kansas. There was a time when this town thrived, when people came from all around to trade, to sight see, to get a new start. Newton was rich with the mining and cattle trade. Then something happened. Something bad. The train changed. I don't know how long ago this was. Some days it seems like forever. Some times, like it was only yesterday.”

For a time no one spoke. My cousins and I watched Henry, waiting for a story with what we knew would be an unhappy ending. Henry in turn watched us, his mind hidden somewhere within his own thoughts. After a while he seemed to come to a decision. He began.

Chapter 10 - Newton

Oww! Stupid apple! - Sir Isaac Newton

For a Kansan the howling of the wind is often a comfort. It is a sign that the world is normal, and all is well. The problem was that this wind did not feel like any ordinary wind. This was a wind that seemed to speak, to call out my name as it sped across the plains.

I did not sleep well. Perhaps it was the thought that last night's dream would return. I feared the devil children of my mind. They were ruthless and vicious and would not let go, even after you cried uncle.

It may have been the children, but I believe it was Thad. There had been a gleam in his eyes that evening. It was the terrible shining in the eyes of broken men who cannot continue. Even Heppy acted nervous around the man. Something had happened as we approached Newton that changed Thad. I was afraid of him.

When sleep did come, I did not dream of children. For the most part, I cannot remember my dreams from that night, save for the white and caste iron face of an ominous clock that tolled the many hours of my troubled thoughts.

Once again, I woke before dawn. This time Heppy's frantic pecking roused me. “What is it boy?” I muttered. A random joke fluttered into my mind. “Did Timmy fall down the well again?”

As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back. It was a joke that felt somehow far too dark for the circumstances. The threat of falling down wells existed in this world. The very notion of falling down such a black pit terrified me in a way it never had before. I could see the little boy, unable to swim the the deep pool, clinging to the rocky wall of a narrow, chilly shaft, crying, calling out for help, receiving none.

Hephaestus stopped pecking me and cast about, as if to make sure no one else was listening or watching. Then he brought his beak close to my ear. “The Man is gone,” he whispered.

I started out of bed. “You can talk!” I gasped.

“Please!” the crow whispered, “Hush. You mustn't tell the others. It is very important.”

“But why?” I asked.

“Please,” responded the crow.

Though I hated to make promises without knowing reasons, I nodded my head. Heppy's statement had filtered through. “He's gone? Where did he go?”

“I don't know,” said Hephaestus. “I fell asleep among the tall grass, and when I woke up to find some breakfast, he was gone. I don't think he liked Mackenzie's decision to camp for the night.”

“But he surely could have waited one more day,” I replied exasperated.

“I would have thought so too,” said Heppy. “This isn't like him. He's been pushed much harder than this in the past.”

“I'd better wake the others,” I said. “Kenzie will know what to do.”

I roused my cousins and explained the situation calmly. Jonathan’s response was not quite so pleasant.

He cursed Thad and said, “I knew he'd do this. That lazy, sniveling good for nothing has been trouble from the start! When I get my hands on him, I'm going to wring his neck. He's probably gone straight to someone or something terrible and given away our location.”

Jonathan’s exclamation troubled me, but I did not argue. We did not know what awaited us in Newton. Something was happening to these grasslands that the grass, the wind, and even the dirt seem malevolent and angry.

Kenzie interrupted Jonathan’s tirade. “That's enough,” she said. “There's not much we can do about it now. We'll do as we planned last night and enter Newton during the day. If Thad was right and there was nothing to worry about, we'll meet him somewhere. I'm sure the town can't be that large. But if he was wrong..., we'll just have to deal with that when the time comes.”

So saying, Kenzie stood up and began to pack. No one argued with her, because there was very little to argue about. With no way to know what was in front of us, there was no reason to spend a lot of time worrying about it.

As the sun broke the horizon, I was reminded of the Prairiea's song. It was strange how the world could change so profoundly in one day. With our belongings packed and Kenzie electing to walk alongside the cart herself, we began the trek into Newton.

The miles were short, and before long I could see a building and a flagpole rising up from the grass. As we crested a ridge, the cowboy town spread out before us. It looked much as western movies presented such places. Along a single street, a church, a general store, a few saloons, and a number of houses stood facing one another. At the north end of the street stood the government building and prison. At the south end - the end we would have to cross first - stood the train station and tracks, along with a few silos for grain storage. And parked at that station like a smoking iron dragon was the Denver-Kansas City cattle and grain train. It looked hungry. My eyes watered as I stared at it. The engine, coal bin, and cars were all made of a dull gray iron, dirtied by smoke and prairie dust. The engine made a slow, grinding sound that seemed to rumble like an angry lion eyeing a dying gazelle.

“That's an evil looking creature, isn't it?” said Jonathan, mostly to himself.

“I don't like it, Kenzie,” said Aly. “It looks angry.”

Kenzie said nothing She stared at the train for a moment, then trudged onward, tugging at the bit of the hesitant mule Nestor.

As the sun beat down on us and we approached this unpleasant town, a thought occurred to me. “Where are all the people?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” asked Aly.

“The people. No one is walking around. The streets are bare. I can't see an engineer working on the train. There are no horses, no dogs, no animals of any kind. Where is everyone?”

No one spoke. No one knew what to say. Heppy had burrowed underneath some bags in the cart, plainly terrified. We continued on, approaching the town from the southwest. The train was facing east, and we hoped to cross the tracks behind it. None of us wanted an up-close view of the coal-burning grill.

Before crossing the tracks, we all climbed down from the cart. First, Kenzie and Aly stepped across. Then, Jonathan and I followed, pulling Nestor's tackle hard. The mule stared at the tracks with bulging eyes. We finally had to cover his face with a spare shirt before he was willing to step forward at all.

We quickly pulled Nestor and the cart across, moved behind one of the houses, out of the sight of the train, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. We attempted pulling the cover from Nestor's face, but the creature grew wild-eyed the moment we did so. Uncertainly, I returned the blinder to his face, and he quieted.

We examined the house we were hidden behind. Jonathan spotted a sign painted jaggedly upon the building, as if the graffiti artist was working quickly and nervously.

“Beware: Dekancy Cagree,” he read. “Who do you suppose that is?”

I shrugged, but could not get the name out of my head. Dekancy Cagree. He sounded like a mean, hungry killer from the bayou. I imaged a man with scars on his face and missing teeth, grinning at me and hiding his hands in his long, black, leather trench coat. It was a ravenous grin.

Kenzie ignored the question. “We'd better find Thad and get out of here,” she said. “This place is giving me the creeps.”

I agreed.

“One of those saloons looked like it had some upstairs rooms,” suggested Aly. “Maybe it's an inn.”

Kenzie said, “Seems like a good enough place to start,” and motioned for Aly to lead the way. Aly walked north past three more buildings, then walked around the north side of the fourth. She pointed at a two-story bar that stood across the street.

Jonathan glanced nervously south along Main street, and I followed his gaze to the smoking train.

“Do we really want to cross this street?” Jonathan asked. “I know it sounds dumb, but I don't want that train to see us.”

Just then, as if from all around us, a jazzy piano began to play. It was loud, rollicking, and maniacal. It bore down upon us, shutting out all possible conversation. It seemed as though loudspeakers had been placed at every corner of the town. Then a voice that sounded just like a prerecorded, old-time announcer began to speak.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, good morning. This is the voice of the Denver-Kansas City railroad company, encouraging you to buy your ticket now for a cross-country train-ride you won't want to miss. That's right! Parents, bring your children. Children, bring your pets. There's room for one and all. It's the thrill of a lifetime.”

We all exchanged glances. Then a new voice began. It was a strong, laughing, pleasant voice. “Hey there, folks. This is the Denver-Kansas City. We're just about ready to go here. It looks like we've only got room for five more people, so come on down. Ha! We're going to give these seat away at a great discount!” I listened to the voice a little more closely. It sounded familiar. The more I listened, the more I began to realize something. The laughter in that voice was not friendly. It was violent. It was calling us, cajoling us, ripping into us. “Come on, folks. Just five seats left. Need to get to Kansas City quick? Ha! Need to meet a loved one? Family emergency? Climb aboard and help save Matty.”

I blinked. Aly gasped. The voice turned silky smooth. “Come on, Dewey! Better hurry, better hurry! Ha! Have you guessed my name, yet?” Then the voice began to laugh. It started warm and mellow, but began to climb octaves until it was a shriek. Then the recording ended and the speakers died.

I looked at my hands and was surprised to see that they were shaking. Kenzie walked over and hugged me hard and tight. “It's ok,” she whispered. “It was just a recording. He isn't here. We're fine.”

“We've got to get out of this place,” I could hear my voice crack. “We've got to go north. That train is evil. This place is dead because of that train. We need to leave.”

“I know,” she replied, “but first we have to find Thad. You heard that recording. There are still five seats left. It doesn't have Thad yet. We need to find him, before it does.”

Jonathan cut in, “But that recording could be old! Thad could be long gone.”

“It doesn't matter,” Kenzie said. “If he is still around, we have to find him.”

Jonathan looked at me imploringly. My first inclination was to agree with him, but I knew I couldn't. How could I save Matt from what he faced, if I couldn't look down the muzzle of a single train? I closed my eyes for a moment, composed myself, then opened them. “Kenzie is right,” I said. “We need Thad, but more importantly, Thad needs us right now. We've got to cross that street.”

Jonathan looked helplessly at the two of us, then sighed and nodded.

Kenzie spoke. “On the count of three, we go,” she said. “Run as fast as you can. Don't stop. Don't look around. Keep your eye on that tavern door. If you hear anything behind you, no matter what it is, run faster. Don't stop until you are inside and away from the entrance.”

We nodded.

“On the count of three,” she said. I could not believe what I was about to do. I was terrified. I shivered, though I did not feel cold.

“One,” she said. My breath got raspy. My heart pounded in my ears.

“Two.” I thought of Madison, lying in her bed, then running through that field. I could feel the warm sun of that day and the assurance in her smile.

“Three,” Kenzie shouted. And I began to sprint. All of the others were in front of me. We flew out from behind the building and into the street. My vision had tunneled now and I could not see anything to my left or right, but I was reminded of that day, so recently, that I met Maddy and her grandfather. The threat of those grasshoppers was as nothing compared to the malevolence raging at my back and side. I could feel the hatred and greed, like an oven. The world lost its color and seemed to go gray. I knew the train – Dekansey Cagree – was off its tracks now. I was sure it was rushing to meet us and welcome us aboard, bound for a destination of fire.

My cousins began to pull away from me, and I started to get scared. My father had told me stories about African beasts who trailed the herds, waiting for the sick, the weak, and the young to fall behind so they could pounce. They had been three feet away. Now they were ten. I did not call out to my cousins, for I knew I would be lost in doing so. The train - Dekansey Cagree – was behind me and getting closer. I could feel the chug, chug, chug, chug, grind, tear, nash, can you hear me, Dewey? I'm comin' for you! I'm comin' old boy! And I'm hungry! I'm so hungry!

I tried to run faster.

I was almost there now, but I could feel the power draining away from my limbs. I would not be able to keep this pace up for very much longer. My eyes began to water, and my step faltered.

Then a voice in my head cried out, “Run, Dewey! Run faster!” It was Maddy. It was Abraham. It was, and this last one was the strangest of all, my father. I could feel the fear in his voice as well. The voices gave my strength I did not know I had. I ran faster.

My cousins were now through the door, and I was alone on the street. I could hear the hungry rumble of the locomotive behind me. Then I burst through, leaped into a corner, hid my face in my hands, and began to sob.

I was alive.

After a time, I calmed myself and looked up. My cousins were leaning against walls well away from the entrance, still gasping for breath. The bar was empty, but a staircase did lead to the second floor.

“I guess,” gasped Aly, “we made it.” Her eyes bore into the door we had passed through. I looked, and saw nothing but the dirty, sandy street.

“Looks like it,” said Kenzie, who was in basketball shape and had been quicker to cool down. She eyed the door we had come through thoughtfully, then squared her shoulders and stood up. “Now let's see if we can find Thad.”

When we had all composed ourselves, we crept upstairs. After a few moments of searching, we found Thad relaxing in the second room on the left.

“What took you guys?” he asked, reclining in his rocking chair.

With a war cry Jonathan leaped at the unsuspecting man in the chair. Kenzie and I leaped after him and wrestled him away from Thad. Jonathan continued to hurl curses as the man for several moments before we could get him under control.

When he had recovered, Jonathan said, “You lunatic! Do you have any idea what is going on around you? Have you been outside? Do you hear that train? Did you notice how everyone in the town is gone!?”

Thad blinked at Jonathan, then his gazed drifted curiously toward me. “Dewey,” he began, “what is Jonathan... talking... about....” As he spoke, Thad's eyes grew unfocused. He slumped in his chair. His breathing grew ragged.

Then is eyes focused again and turned to me. The look of hatred in his glare burned me like a fire. The room seemed to brighten by the force of those eyes. He pointed a finger in my direction. I noticed a metal band around it. “You ran again,” Thad whispered, “Ha! Run all you want, boy. We're coming, and you won't be there in time. Your friend is alone, and soon you will be too.”

With that, Thad collapsed, sliding out of his chair and falling to the ground. Kenzie ran to him and put her ear by his mouth. “He's still breathing,” she said. She shook him and called his name, but he did not wake up. “We've got to go, and he's not going to move himself,” she said. “We're going to have to carry him out of here. Jonathan, you and Aly grab his feet. Dewey, you and I can take his head.”

The oppressive weight of this town was getting to us. None of us complained. We grabbed Thad by his shoulders and legs and dragged him back downstairs. Jonathan dropped his portion on the floor. “What do we do now?” he asked. “The cart is on the wrong side of the street. We barely made it across last time. How in the world are we going to cross it with this lump of junk?”

Kenzie peaked out the window facing the street. “We may be able to go around,” she said. “The police station on the far end of town looks like it may be able to block us from the train's view. If we can find a back way out of this building, we may not have to do any running.”

She instructed us to put down Thad and begin looking for a back door. Kenzie and Aly followed a doorway that seemed likely to lead to some sort of latrine. Jonathan and I walked behind the bar and into a kitchen.

At the back of the kitchen stood a door that was cut cross-wise with a ledge resting on the lower half, as if to cool pies after baking. We opened this door and were greeted by the sight of wide, open plains, as far as we could see. Jonathan sighed with relief.

“There was nothing back there but more rooms.” Startled, Jonathan and I turned at the voice. Kenzie and Aly stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

“No problem,” I said. “We've got an exit right here.”

The four of us returned to the main dining room, picked up Thad, and returned to the back door. Kenzie stuck her head out the door and checked both sides, then gave the thumbs-up to indicate the coast was clear. We dragged Thad back out into the day-light and proceeded to slink north.

As we walked, staying close to the buildings and hurrying past the spaces between them, Jonathan muttered, “Your friend is a real sweetheart, Dewey.”

“Thad?” I asked. “I don't know that I'd call him my...”

Jonathan cut me off. “No, not stupid Thad. Your other friend. The angry one.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “Him.”

Aly asked, “Have you guys noticed how he always seems to follow a pattern?”

Kenzie glanced back at her curiously. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Aly screwed up her eyebrows in thought, then said, “Well, obviously there's that sound he makes, like he's clearing the back of his throat all the time, but there's something else. I noticed it a bit ago, but now it seems to have slipped away.

“His name,” I said with a dead voice. “He keeps asking if I've guessed his name.”

“Why would he say something like that?” Jonathan asked.

“I don't know,” I replied, “that's just what he asks.”

For the rest of the brief trip to the north end of town, none of us say anything. I was lost in my thoughts about the angry old man and wishing I could bounce ideas off of Madison. Why did the old man's name matter? Was it some kind of intimidation, or was there something more? Abraham had only called the old man his brother. He had never used a name. That fact seemed strange now. He had called us all by our names. He had, in fact, be very liberal with names of all kinds. Why had he left out his brother's?

As I contemplated this, we reached the north end of town. We rounded the corner of the last building and stood facing the Newton police station, city building, and prison. Upon the wall facing us was a schedule for the railroad. We all saw it at the same time. At the top of the schedule was an advertisement.

Denver-Kansas City Cattle And Grain Exploration Exhibition

(Come, one and all, and ride the Dekancy Cagree!)

Dekancy Cagree was not a who. Dekancy Cagree was the train itself. To our south, I heard the its rumbling, hungry growl.

Kenzie had been looking at the schedule. As we stared at the words “Dekancy Cagree,” the train's rumbling seemed to grow louder.

“Do you hear that?” Kenzie asked. “The board says the train will be departing at noon. It's getting ready to leave!”

I closed my eyes with relief, then frowned. Kenzie did not sound happy about this. “That's a good thing, right?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “Look at the track. It heads east and north. If we don't get to the other side of this building by the time that train clears town, it's going to see us. He is going to see us.”

With those words we heard a whistle sound and then that horrible noise that meant the engine wheels were starting to turn. We grabbed Thad and for the second time that day, we started to run.