The Insane Train by Sheldon Russell Page B

got out and examined the still, which Roy had fashioned from a Buick radiator.
    â€œThen how did this arroyo get here?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s always been here, Seth. Any fool knows that.”
    Roy drew a sampling of the run and handed it to Seth.
    Seth looked into the cup before shooting it down. Tears welled in his eyes.
    â€œGood God,” he said.
    Roy filled the cup again and took a swig himself, swishing the liquid around and around in his mouth. A red blush crept down his neck and disappeared beneath his collar.
    â€œJust right,” he said. “There’s a case of canning jars over there. I’ll do a draw.”
    When finished, Roy said, “Damn, there’s one jar too many. It won’t fit into the box.”
    Seth walked around the jar and then looked over at Roy.
    â€œGuess we could dump it,” he said.
    â€œI know men been shot for dumping busthead,” Roy said.
    â€œWe could put it back in the still,” Seth said.
    â€œTaint’s up. Just as well dump it.”
    â€œWe could carry it in the front of the truck,” Seth said.
    â€œI knew a man once who broke a quart of shine in his truck,” Roy said. “It was a sad thing.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œIgnition set it off. Burned him alive. When they opened the door, he just crumbled away into a pile of ashes.”
    â€œWell, I don’t want something like that on my conscience,” Seth said.
    â€œBe hard to live with alright,” Roy said, picking up the quart and holding it against the light. “Guess the only thing to do is drink it.”
    â€œI suppose that’s the right thing,” Seth said.
    Roy unscrewed the lid and took a pull before handing it over to Seth.
    â€œShine in and yeller out,” Roy said. “Like dawn and dusk on the Mojave.”
    When they had drained the last drop, they sat the empty quart on top of the still and loaded the box of quarts into the back of the truck.
    Seth got in on the passenger side and waited for Roy to get in.
    â€œIt’s your goddang company truck, Seth.”
    â€œOh, yeah,” Seth said, getting out and going back around to the driver’s side.
    Roy fumbled for a cigarette. Not finding one, he said, “Got a smoke?”
    Seth took one for himself and tossed the package to Roy.
    Seth looked at his watch. “That yard dog is a little short on the fuse,” he said. “I ought get on.”
    â€œI had a rail dick throw me off a doubleheader at thirty miles an hour,” Roy said. “The son of a bitch didn’t even look back.”
    Seth said, “I broke into a caboose over at Needles looking for something to eat. Came nose to nose with the meanest dog I ever saw, and a crazy man chased me halfway to Barstow in his underwear.”
    â€œI knew a preacher once what kissed rattlesnakes,” Roy said. “He claimed it upped the plate donations and made the girls damp.”
    â€œThe thing is, I’ve reason to believe it was the same railroad bull I’m working for now, Roy. I think he knew who I was when he offered me this job.”
    â€œWell, there’s no figuring yard dogs or preachers neither one,” Roy said.
    â€œOh, hell,” Seth said, looking around. “I’ve lost the damn truck keys.”
    â€œThey’re in your hand,” Roy said.
    â€œOh, yeah,” Seth said.
    â€œListen,” Roy said. “I’m running short on corn for the still. I spotted a couple of boxcars on a siding out by the army base and popped the seal, just for a look, you know. Hundred-pound sacks of Iowa corn were stacked clean to the roof. Course, without a truck there wasn’t much could be done but leave them there.”
    â€œThose boxcars are for the army-base mess, Roy.”
    Roy squashed out his cigarette and shrugged. “It’s not like we haven’t done our duty for the army, Seth, fighting Germans, sacrificing for our country, and