JOSIAH WAS BACK IN the gray city again, that colorless empire, and the wind blew through the alleys and whistled around the old-fashioned cars that lined the empty streets. A huffing noise filled his ears and he knew before he turned to look that it was the train coming on and thought, I’ve had this dream before.
But at least the train was coming back for him. Dream or no dream, he’d lost it last time, run after it and couldn’t catch up and then found himself in that field walking hard against the dark. Yes, if the train came back around this time, he surely ought to take it.
He stood to the side and watched as it thundered toward him, stone dust rising from beneath its wheels, a funnel of black smoke pouring from the stack. All just as it had been. Good. Must be the same train.
It slowed as it passed, and again he could see the white car with the splash of red across its doors, the colors standing out so stark against all that gray. He walked toward it, eager now, as the locomotive whistle shrilled and the train lost momentum. This one was headed home. The man in the bowler hat had promised him that.
And there was the man, visible in the open boxcar door as he had been before. He wasn’t leaning out of it this time but sitting with his arms resting on raised knees and his back pressed against the door frame. He lifted his head as Josiah approached, used one finger to push the hat up on his forehead.
“’Spect you want a ride,” he said when they were close enough for words, and the smile was gone, the charm not present in his eyes this time.
Josiah said he’d be more than happy for a ride, provided they were still homeward bound. The man paused at that, considered Josiah through those dark eyes. Josiah could hear a gentle splashing from inside the car, saw drops of water coming out over the rim of the door frame and falling to the sidewalk below.
“Told you we was homeward bound last time through,” the man said. “Told you there was a need to hurry should you want a ride.”
The man seemed displeased, and that made Josiah’s stomach tremble and his skin prickle as if from the touch of something cold. He told the man that he had desired a ride, indeed, and that he’d run in pursuit of the train, run as best as his legs could do, and still not caught up.
The man listened to that, then tilted his head and spit a plume of tobacco juice toward Josiah’s feet.
“I was to tell you it’s time to get aboard now, you’d take heed?” he said.
Josiah assured him that was a fact.
“You’d also understand,” the man said, “I might be needing you for a piece of work when we get home.”
Josiah asked what that work would entail.
“A good mind and a strong back,” the man said. “And an ability to take direction. Might those be traits you possess?”
Josiah said they were, but he wasn’t overly pleased at the prospect, and it must have shown in his face.
“You don’t think that’s a fair exchange?” the man asked, his eyes wide.
Josiah didn’t answer that, and up ahead the steam whistle blew again and the engine began to chug. The man smiled at him and spread his hands.
“Well,” he said, “you know another way of getting home, you’re welcome to it.”
Josiah was unaware of another way home, and he’d already missed this train once. Time came when you had to make a sacrifice or two in the pursuit of what you desired, and right now Josiah desired a ride home. He told the man he’d get aboard.
“About time,” the man said, and then he rose to offer Josiah his hand and help him into the boxcar. When he stood, water streamed from his suit. Josiah edged closer to the train and leaned forward.
Took his hand.