An+Endless+Search

I stood behind the vacant building with my brother waiting for the train to start moving. We’d only get on the trains once they started up because we had to avoid the bulls patrolling all the stations. They’d look out for any teenagers like us and beat them or even kill them until they thought everyone around learned their lesson. Truth is we’d do anything to get on the rails. It was an escape, a chance for something new in our lives. My brother and I had been riding the rails for something like a year now and we got pretty good at it. All us teenage travelers were searching for something on the rails; we just didn’t know exactly what that was yet. All we knew was the rails meant change, and any change during those rough times had to be good, or so we thought. I saw the train lurch forward and immediately we both jumped up and headed towards it. Near hundred others came following behind us from other empty buildings around. We were all waiting for that chance to get on. Since I was seventeen years old and my brother four years less, I’d get on first and then drag him up after me. For most of the boys it was hard to time everything and get on the train cars smoothly. For me, however, I was fairly tall and strong compared to them and could get on the train on my first try pretty easily. It took a few months of trying, but my brother and I created this system where I’d get on a then drag my brother who weighed little to nothing right off the ground through the air and safely into the car. He loved the exhilaration of the air against his face and the danger of the moving train cars just inches from our bodies. I’d seen too many guys make fatal mistakes when boarding trains, and the way my brother acted, I was scared he’d be next. He was one of those adventure seekers. I wasn’t like those fellows; I was looking for a job, that’s all. Like I said, we were all searching for something. That something was hardly ever the same thing though. To be honest, I thought I was done with the trains. They were no doubt the only means to get to places where some new hope could be found, but I thought I found that hope. The government finally did something for me and set up some work places called the CCC. The CCC was the Civilian Conservation Corps and I heard they’d give you a job, some food, and a place to stay for a long while, so I thought I’d check it out. We hitchhiked on these very rails all the way from our hometown just outside of Chicago, Illinois to San Francisco, California. I showed up at one of those CCC places, hoping for work, so I put down my name ‘Kenneth Hastings’ and my brother’s ‘Nelson Hastings’ with our respective ages. They said it could be a little while; after all there was over a hundred teenagers just like me signing up as well. Then they saw our ages and claimed the work places were only for teenagers eighteen years of age or older. We had to leave; there was no alternative here anymore, but I was used to these kinds of disappointments by now. I left the camp discouraged and jobless, but I knew the rails were still my only hope. For me I had to keep hope that things would get better. When I lost that drive to keep pressing on, I’d look at my brother and be reminded of family. He helped me through everything, because he was my motivator. To keep the family alive, and hopefully reunite them was my driving purpose. It’d been a long time since I’d seen my father or mother, but I thought about them all the time. I don’t think Nelson thought about them all that much, but I knew one day I’d get a job and bring our family back together. Leaving them was hard for me, but to survive it had to be done. It all started the 27th of November in the year 1931 or so I remember. After too many cold nights with no food on our plates, we both decided it was time to go. Our parents couldn’t support two growing boys. They loved us and we knew it, but we knew they were struggling to feed us. My father loved us so much he’d go hungry for weeks just to make sure we got some scraps. It was hard to watch; our only solution, like all teens, was to get on the rails. I feared them from the start. I saw the rails as danger, but a danger we had to risk in order to find a better place. It wasn’t possible for us to move forward until we took a few steps back; at least that’s what my father told me before. If I could, I’d avoid the trains, but moving was the key to our success; it was a necessary risk we had to take. On the train I laid against the cold metal wall, resting or at least trying to anyway. While resting I’d think about life, but it normally wasn’t all that good. I tried of thinking about the future with our parents, but no matter how hard I tried my thoughts and dreams were poisoned by the nightmares of the rails. I tried to ignore them, but the dangers were everywhere and unavoidable. I constantly dreamt of the adventurous guys. Like the time when I’d been talking with one kid from Boston for a good hour or so, but as he was getting off, his legs got caught under the train’s wheels and he was dragged right under just like that. I couldn’t believe what I’d seen. I vowed to never let that happen to my little brother; I had to protect him. I’d also heard of the suffocation from smoke in the tunnels with those crazy guys on top of the train, which is why I never go there. The tops were also known for falls around corners, which was near certain death. You’d hit the ground, and getting hit by the train after that was all too common. I slept uncomfortably on the train without really getting any rest, and like food, it was just one of those things I didn’t get a lot of. The train hit a slight bump causing me to wake up suddenly. Half unconscious, I scanned around for my brother to ask him how long I’d been out for. He wasn’t there. I looked through the opening on the right side of the train and tried to see if he could be in any of the other sections of the train. Then, suddenly, I heard his voice from above on the train’s top, so I yelled for him to get down. The wind was so strong that day I doubt he heard a word I said to him. The train turned without warning, and I could see the bottom of his work shoes slide off the train’s roof. His voice was muffled by the wind, and I saw his body hit the hard dirt below him. Once on the ground he started rolling towards the tracks where the train was speeding by. It couldn’t end like this. But, as his body disappeared under the train so too did my purpose for pressing on through the difficulties, the same purpose that was driving me to reunite a now irreparable family.

-Toss Feaner