WATER FOR ELEPHANT [124]
I spend the rest of the night planning all the ways I can kill them, rolling the ideas around in my head and savoring them, as though I were fingering smooth stones.
THE SCREECH OF THE air brakes snaps me out of my trance. Before the train has even stopped, I drop to the gravel and stride toward the sleepers. I climb the iron stairs to the first one shabby enough to house working men and slide the door open so violently it bounces closed again. I reopen it and march through.
“Earl! Earl! Where are you?” My voice is guttural with hate and rage. “Earl!”
I stalk down the aisle, peering into bunks. None of the surprised faces I encounter is Earl’s.
Onto the next car.
“Earl! You in here?”
I pause and turn to a bewildered man in a bunk. “Where the hell is he? Is he in here?”
“You mean Earl from security?”
“Yeah. That’s who I mean, all right.”
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Two cars thataway.”
I pass through another car, trying to avoid the limbs that stick out from under bunks, the arms that spill over their edges.
I slide the door open with a crash. “Earl! Where the hell are you? I know you’re in here!”
There’s an astonished pause, with men on both sides of the car shifting in their bunks to get a look at this loud intruder. Three-quarters of the way down I see Earl. I charge him.
“You son of a bitch!” I say, reaching down to grab him by the neck. “How could you do it? How could you?”
Earl leaps from his bunk, holding my arms out to the side. “Whoa—hang on, Jacob. Calm down. What’s going on?”
“You know fucking well what I’m talking about!” I shriek, twisting my forearms around and out, breaking his grasp. I hurl myself at him, but before I make contact he once again has me at arm’s length.
“How could you do it?” Tears are running down my face. “How could you? You were supposed to be Camel’s friend! And what the hell did Walter ever do to you?”
Earl goes pale. He freezes with his hands still closed around my wrists. The shock on his face is so genuine I stop struggling.
We blink at each other in horror. Seconds pass. A panicked buzz ripples through the rest of the car.
Earl releases me and says, “Follow me.”
We step down from the train, and once we are a good dozen yards away, he turns to me. “They’re gone?”
I stare at him, seeking answers in his face. There aren’t any. “Yeah.”
Earl sucks in his breath. His eyes close. For a moment I think he might cry.
“Are you telling me you didn’t know anything?” I say.
“Hell no! What do you think I am? I’d never do something like that. Aw shit. Aw hell. The poor old fella. Wait a minute—” he says, training his eyes on me suddenly. “Where were you?”
“Somewhere else,” I say.
Earl stares for a moment and then drops his gaze to the ground. He puts his hands on his waist and sighs, bobbing his head and thinking. “Okay,” he says. “I’m going to find out how many other poor bastards got tossed, but let me tell you something—kinkers don’t get tossed, even lowly ones. If Walter got it, they were after you. And if I were you, I’d start walking right now and never look back.”
“And if I can’t do that?”
He looks up sharply. His jaw moves from side to side. He regards me for a very long time. “You’ll be safe on the lot, in daylight,” he says finally. “If you get back on the train tonight, don’t go anywhere near that stock car. Move around the flats and rest under wagons. Don’t get caught, and don’t let your guard down. And blow the show as soon as you can.”
“I will. Believe me. But I’ve got a couple of loose ends to wrap up first.”
Earl gives me a long last look. “I’ll try to catch up with you later,” he says. Then he strides off toward the cookhouse where the men from the Flying Squadron are congregating in small groups, their eyes darting, their faces fearful.
• • •
IN ADDITION TO Camel and Walter, eight other men are missing, three from the main train and the rest from the Flying Squadron, which means that Blackie and his group broke up into squads, riding different sections