IT'S A HARD LIFE WHEN YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN
Gasping and wheezing after his run, he heaved himself into the boxcar as the train
accelerated round the curve. "Getting harder every day," he thought, rolling over into
a more comfortable position amongst the crates and boxes. "Wonder how much
longer I'll be able to keep riding the rails with this bad hip of mine, and winter nearly
here."
Wearily, he opened his bundle and extracted a heel of bread, a lump of cheese and a
couple of onions. He peeled and sliced the onions, laid them on the bread, topped by
the cheese. Later, wiping his bristly beard with a dirty bandanna, "Best meal I've had
in ages, pity that I couldn't get a few apples, but hurrying to the train, there was no
time to catch the high branch."
Yes, life was hard now, without Jamie to lend a hand. He had been a wonderful
mate, always a smile and a friendly word, and a helping hand to pull one into a
boxcar if one couldn't make it on your own. Gosh! How he missed him. The yarns
they told one another, and the tall stories! Didn't matter that very few of them were
true, each tale had a smattering of truth somewhere, and even if they were not true,
one always learnt something from the fantasies of how it might have been or as the
storyteller wished it had been. One learnt the ways of the open road this way from a
good mate like Jamie who'd had years of experience living as an "outie."
That day Jamie died still burnt in his memory like a flame and he knew that he would
never be able to wipe out the horror of it. The way Jamie had run to catch the slowly
moving train just as it started to pick up speed, missed his footing and was caught
under the wheels, his head and upper body mangled in a flash by the massive weight
of the train, seared through his brain like an electric flash. It was so terrible he would
not allow himself to even think about it - dwelling on these things could only bring
madness, and it served no purpose, no purpose at all.
Thinking back now, he remembered that after the driver brought the train to a stop
and the police were called, he had melted away into the undergrowth and remained
hidden there all day while the authorities took down statements, interrogated the
driver and finally, removed the poor bloodied corpse.
"No way I was going to get involved with all that bureaucratic nonsense and
questions. End up in prison if you're not careful, and after all I'd done nothing wrong.
I was just following Jamie, and too scared to jump aboard first. It was he who took
the chance to jump the train as it gathered speed, although he knew how dangerous
it was."
"Lucky he'd given his share of the spoils to me to in case we were stopped and
questioned. He knew that the police were on to him, and if he was carrying a
suitcase, they would search it. Silly fool though, not to realise that I'm a greedy, tired
old man, and that the temptation would be too much. "Once a thief, always a thief",
and some of my stories were not always fiction, you know!
I, too, had a long history of dishonesty and failure. I had no intention of joining him in
that railcar and it was a strong push from me when he grabbed the door that sent him
sprawling. Not missing his footing. But he'll never know the truth now, will he?"