Different Seasons - Stephen King [183]
'Man,' Chris said softly.
'Come on,' Teddy said in that brisk, arrogant way. 'Let's go.' He was already edging his way out, walking on the six-by-fours between the shining rails.
'Say,' Vern said uneasily, 'any of you guys know when the next train's due?'
We all shrugged.
I said, 'There's the Route 136 bridge '
'Hey, come on, gimme a break!' Teddy cried. 'That means walkin' five miles down the river on this side and then five miles back up on the other side it'll take us until dark! If we use the trestle, we can get to the same place in ten minutes!'
'But if a train comes, there's nowheres to go,' Vern said. He wasn't looking at Teddy. He was looking down at the fast, bland river.
'Fuck there isn't!' Teddy said indignantly. He swung over the edge and held one of the wooden supports between the rails. He hadn't gone out very far-his sneakers were almost touching the ground-but the thought of doing that same thing above the middle of the river with a fifty-foot drop beneath and a train bellowing by just over my head, a train that would probably be dropping some nice hot sparks into my hair and down the back of my neck none of that actually made me feel like Queen for a Day.
'See how easy it is?' Teddy said. He dropped to the embankment, dusted his hands, and climbed back up beside us.
'You tellin' me you're gonna hang on that way if it's a two hundred car freight?' Chris asked. 'Just sorta hang there by your hands for five or ten minutes?'
'You chicken?' Teddy shouted.
'No, just askin' what you'd do,' Chris said, grinning. 'Peace, man.'
'Go around if you want to!' Teddy brayed. 'Who gives a fuck? I'll wait for you! I'll take a nap!'
'One train already went by,' I said reluctantly. 'And there probably isn't any more than one, two trains a day that go through Harlow. Look at this.' I kicked the weeds growing up through the railroad ties with one sneaker. There were no weeds growing between the tracks which ran between Castle Rock and Lewiston.
'There. See?' Teddy was triumphant.
'But still, there's a chance,' I added.
'Yeah,' Chris said. He was looking only at me, his eyes sparkling. 'Dare you, Lachance.'
'Dares go first.'
'Okay,' Chris said. He widened his gaze to take in Teddy and Vern. 'Any pussies here?'
'NO!' Teddy shouted.
Vern cleared his throat, croaked, cleared it again, and said 'no' in a very small voice. He smiled a weak, sick smile.
'Okay,' Chris said but we hesitated for a moment, even Teddy, looking warily up and down the tracks. I knelt down and took one of the steel rails firmly in my hand, never minding that it was almost hot enough to blister the skin. The rail was mute.
'Okay,' I said, and as I said it some guy pole-vaulted in my stomach. He dug his pole all the way into my balls, it felt like, and ended up sitting astride my heart.
We went out onto the trestle single-file: Chris first, then Teddy, then Vern, and me playing tail-end Charlie because I was the one who said dares go first. We walked on the platform crossties between the rails, and you had to look at your feet whether you were scared of heights or not. A misstep and you would go down to your crotch, probably with a broken ankle to pay.
The embankment dropped away beneath me, and every step further out seemed to seal our decision more firmly and to make it feel more suicidally stupid. I stopped to look up when I saw the rocks giving way to water far beneath me. Chris and Teddy were a long way ahead, almost out over the middle, and Vern was tottering slowly along behind them, peering studiously down at his feet. He looked like an old lady trying out stilts with his head poked downward, his back hunched, his arms held out for balance. I looked