“Yup.”
“ My dad did, too.”
Reggie squinted, although his eyes were mostly hidden in shadows. “He didn’t make it home, did he, kid?”
Judd shook his head.
“ A lot of good folk didn’t.”
“ Well, I never got to meet him. We don’t even have home videos of him, just photos. And my dad’s dog tags. They found ‘em near a bombed-out building and sent them to my mom. She had them silver-plated—cause I am allergic to most other metals—and she gave them to me at the MIA memorial service. She kept the flag. It’s in our living room in a triangle box with glass in the front.”
“ Silver, huh?” Reggie said, cringing. “I don’t like me no silver.”
“ I wasn’t offering them.” Judd clasped the dog tags through his shirt, jingling the matching silver ball chains, his talismans.
“ Magic, aren’t they?” Reggie said, not unkindly.
“ You keep him alive in your memory by wearing the dog tags,” Reggie said. “But silver.” He shuddered.
“ Do you have anything to eat?” Judd asked, deciding to change the subject. “I accidentally dropped my sandwich in the dirt.”
Reggie laughed, his blackened teeth letting loose a stench that took Judd aback. “No, I find my own food when I’m hungry.”
“ Like hunting?” Judd asked.
“ Something like that. I don’t really eat. It’s more like...drinking.”
Judd’s eyebrows went up. “Like beer and stuff?”
“ No, no. Reggie don’t drink beer no more. More like...blood.”
Judd’s heart nearly stopped. He fell silent, thinking hard. The crickets weren’t, though. They were loud near the old train station, filling the silence. Judd thought he heard the sound of frogs, too. There must be a pond nearby.
A slow realization took over Judd. He put his fingers over his dad’s dog tags, squeezed them hard.
“ Like people’s blood?” he asked and drew the silver dog tags from inside of his shirt and held them up to Reggie, who shrank from them.
“ No, small animals. Rats, rabbits, even. I certainly wouldn’t drink the blood of children. I got my standards. And I wouldn’t wish this existence on anyone. Especially not the son of a fellow soldier who died in Iraq. That’s just too much pathos.”
“ What’s pathos?” Judd asked.
“ Tragedy.”
Judd nodded and returned the silver-plated dog tags inside of his shirt.
“ When the train comes, will you help me?” Judd asked.
“ Don’t do it, kid,” Reggie said suddenly.
“ Do what?” He became aware of his heart beating hard in his chest for the first time in his life.
The old man shook his head, and the long gray whiskers of his beard fluttered about. “Don’t get on the train.”
Shadows moved in the dark spaces between the old planks that made up the floor. Or at least, Judd thought they had. If Reggie would have said a monster lived down there, Judd would have believed him.
He looked away to veil his eyes. “Why would I get on the train?”
“ Because they all do.”
That was the craziest thing Judd had ever heard, and panic ripped through him.
Judd wilted back down on the bench; the wooden floor creaked and the monster stirred below. “I’m not the only one who hears this thing. I can’t be. There’s a hundred houses between here and mine. How can I be the only one?”
“ You’re not, boy. There have been others, and there will be others after you, like I said.”
“ My mom just doesn’t pay attention to things, you know. I’m sure she’s hears it, too.”
“ Don’t kid yourself, kid. I just ask you not to step foot on that train.”
Judd turned on him. “Why? Why in God’s name would I get on this train?”
“ I can’t tell you, boy. I wish I could. All I know is that the folks who come here claim to have been hearing a train just like yourself.
“ And then just as I’m talking to them, as sure as I’m talking to you now, they tell me they hear it, and of course, I never do. From what I gather, it’s an old locomotive they
“ My dad did, too.”
Reggie squinted, although his eyes were mostly hidden in shadows. “He didn’t make it home, did he, kid?”
Judd shook his head.
“ A lot of good folk didn’t.”
“ Well, I never got to meet him. We don’t even have home videos of him, just photos. And my dad’s dog tags. They found ‘em near a bombed-out building and sent them to my mom. She had them silver-plated—cause I am allergic to most other metals—and she gave them to me at the MIA memorial service. She kept the flag. It’s in our living room in a triangle box with glass in the front.”
“ Silver, huh?” Reggie said, cringing. “I don’t like me no silver.”
“ I wasn’t offering them.” Judd clasped the dog tags through his shirt, jingling the matching silver ball chains, his talismans.
“ Magic, aren’t they?” Reggie said, not unkindly.
“ You keep him alive in your memory by wearing the dog tags,” Reggie said. “But silver.” He shuddered.
“ Do you have anything to eat?” Judd asked, deciding to change the subject. “I accidentally dropped my sandwich in the dirt.”
Reggie laughed, his blackened teeth letting loose a stench that took Judd aback. “No, I find my own food when I’m hungry.”
“ Like hunting?” Judd asked.
“ Something like that. I don’t really eat. It’s more like...drinking.”
Judd’s eyebrows went up. “Like beer and stuff?”
“ No, no. Reggie don’t drink beer no more. More like...blood.”
Judd’s heart nearly stopped. He fell silent, thinking hard. The crickets weren’t, though. They were loud near the old train station, filling the silence. Judd thought he heard the sound of frogs, too. There must be a pond nearby.
A slow realization took over Judd. He put his fingers over his dad’s dog tags, squeezed them hard.
“ Like people’s blood?” he asked and drew the silver dog tags from inside of his shirt and held them up to Reggie, who shrank from them.
“ No, small animals. Rats, rabbits, even. I certainly wouldn’t drink the blood of children. I got my standards. And I wouldn’t wish this existence on anyone. Especially not the son of a fellow soldier who died in Iraq. That’s just too much pathos.”
“ What’s pathos?” Judd asked.
“ Tragedy.”
Judd nodded and returned the silver-plated dog tags inside of his shirt.
“ When the train comes, will you help me?” Judd asked.
“ Don’t do it, kid,” Reggie said suddenly.
“ Do what?” He became aware of his heart beating hard in his chest for the first time in his life.
The old man shook his head, and the long gray whiskers of his beard fluttered about. “Don’t get on the train.”
Shadows moved in the dark spaces between the old planks that made up the floor. Or at least, Judd thought they had. If Reggie would have said a monster lived down there, Judd would have believed him.
He looked away to veil his eyes. “Why would I get on the train?”
“ Because they all do.”
That was the craziest thing Judd had ever heard, and panic ripped through him.
Judd wilted back down on the bench; the wooden floor creaked and the monster stirred below. “I’m not the only one who hears this thing. I can’t be. There’s a hundred houses between here and mine. How can I be the only one?”
“ You’re not, boy. There have been others, and there will be others after you, like I said.”
“ My mom just doesn’t pay attention to things, you know. I’m sure she’s hears it, too.”
“ Don’t kid yourself, kid. I just ask you not to step foot on that train.”
Judd turned on him. “Why? Why in God’s name would I get on this train?”
“ I can’t tell you, boy. I wish I could. All I know is that the folks who come here claim to have been hearing a train just like yourself.
“ And then just as I’m talking to them, as sure as I’m talking to you now, they tell me they hear it, and of course, I never do. From what I gather, it’s an old locomotive they
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