Chapter 2
He became aware slowly.
Shaking his head, Han opened his eyes and blinked. Blackness enveloped him, extending beyond the furthest reaches of his imagination. Was it midnight? Later? The depths of darkness drowned him in a muddle.
He focused as best he could to understand the situation. A half-moon shone enough ambient light to drown out the nearest stars. Those on the fringes of consciousness were visible—constellations to the naked eye, figments to the imperceptible.
He heard a whistle in the distance. Was it the wind?
First one thought, then two, seeped back to memory. Had he been running? It was still such a jumble. Yes, running. Extending an arm, but, missing?
Wait, there was more. He grabbed hold of something. A ladder? Something moving? Yes! A train—a freight car!
Another whistle chugged, yonder; not getting closer. Not the wind this time, or a moment ago. Someone? Where...? Ah, yes!
He yelled, "Jed!" But no one answered. Again, at the top of his lungs, "Jed?!" Finally, it dawned on him. He was alone. But, where was he?
Han peered around. His vision now accustomed to the dark, the half-glow of the moon did little to illuminate his surroundings.
He stretched. "Argh!" Pricks stung his skin and pierced his threadbare shirt, cloth catching, shredding the worn garment further. Reaching about for something to hold on to, he grabbed a handful of something and stung his fingers. "Owww!"
Underneath him, as far as he could reach—thorns, or what felt like them. He lay on something prickly, almost like the stacks of hay in the loft in the barn back home. How he had loved to put down the fork and lay in the haystacks with a book hidden there for that purpose. But this was neither warm nor sweet smelling.
As memories of home and family ran through his mind, he reached around further, trying to gain hold of something but getting stabbed at every turn. It hurt. He had started with his cousin and best friend's company, but, finally, it occurred to him: he was indeed alone. Tears welled in his eyes. It was okay because no one could see.
Covering his face with his hands, he held his breath and rolled. More pricks stung his bare hands and forearms, until he fell, hitting the ground with a thud. He lay still for several moments, trying to regulate his breathing and calm himself. Eventually, he looked up. The half-moon, no longer directly overhead, had gained a short distance in its western advance. Time would not wait for it, nor for him.
He extended his limbs once more. The aches from a myriad of small injuries took his breath away, then subsided to a dullness. Rising carefully to his knees, he shut his eyes against the exquisite throb in his head. Battling through the acute clutter in his mind, he slowed his breath and slowly pushed through the pain.
He did not think he had lost consciousness—not for more than a minute, anyway. He was dazed, definitely, but memories jogged him—running for the train with Jed, grabbing hold of the lower rail of the ladder on the freight car, struggling to hold on. Then, the turn.
Yes, the turn. He had lost his balance and fallen at the bend in the tracks; that had to be it. And, catching sight of a faint glint of moonlight off what looked like an iron rail a couple yards away, he began to understand he had been thrown at a great velocity, if not a far distance. But, given that, how was he still here and not in the great beyond with most of his family? He trembled at the realization he had cheated the great sleep a second time. How, though? He was not a cat with the proverbial nine lives. Grateful, he sent a quick prayer to his Maker.
Prayer time over, Han's natural curiosity got the better of him. He extended a couple of fingers, and as expected, felt a sting. Ah ... nettles! A bed of nettle bushes by the side of the tracks had broken his fall. He smiled, knowingly; indeed, wryly. Life was not easy, so no bed of roses here. Instead, a fitting cluster of stinging nettles!
It made sense now. He had to think like a man; yes, he had had to think like a man for the two of them for too long now. But, wise as he was beyond his boyish years, he bit his lip and wiped his eyes with his sleeve: he just wanted his ma.
Shaking the thought, he scrambled to his feet. The glint off iron rails again caught his attention, almost mocking him. Ahead, he glimpsed the last light of the train in the distance as it wound its way down the tracks to Missouri and disappeared. Surely another would be by tomorrow? He could only hope.
But here, now, looking for other alternatives, he circled but saw nothing but more dark in all directions but up—and that was not an option. He was a clever and somewhat sensible sort, or so his ma and pa and schoolmaster had told him. He had swelled with pride at the praise then and smiled at the memory now. Hmm, what had he done when lost and terrified a few years ago that enabled the searchers to find him? Yes, that's it, he had stayed in place and waited. Another train would turn up, and so would Jed. Of that, he was hopeful.
Flush with that faith, however tenuous it seemed, he sat down. The stars would keep him company, as would anyone else who might watch.
~~00oo00~~
Han rubbed his eyes, wiping away the sleepers the Sandman had left. He must have dozed off.
He looked up. The half-moon, having won its race to the west, had set. Clusters of stars brilliantly bright against a now black sky sparkled like jewels he could only imagine, the stuff of buried treasure or raiment of kings of far-off lands; not something he would ever lay eyes on.
The same stars had set the course for explorers and pirates alike—those who ventured forth proving the world round, conquering new lands, discovering treasures untold; taking to sea in swift brigantines, massive galleons; trolling oceans, coasts, rivers, inlets.
Adventure stories a boy could glory in, the stuff of whimsy, coursing swift currents on a raft, risking life and limb, perilously hurtling off the bank of the local creek for wealth unimagined, riches aplenty, chancing all he held dear for a stab at fortune's fate—until Ma rang the dinner bell, far enough away but close enough to be heard.
Home.
And what of Jed? He would find him. He would.
Han thought of the nightmare Jed started having after they got to the Home for Waywards. In it, the youngster would wander away from the family farm and get lost. Frightened, he panicked, not knowing which way to go or in what direction to turn, until some with torches showed him the way. Jed never could tell Han who they were, just beings shadowed behind the glowing sticks they carried, all pitch and resin, ready for hours of searching, leading the boy back home, or attempting to.
Han had told the younger boy he would hold the torch now; he would guide them. To where, he admitted to himself, he knew not.
Waiting out the night, Han wished he might have such a dream. Perhaps he might find a clue to Jed's whereabouts. Maybe a sextant-guided ship searching in the night, following the Gemini twins Castor and Pollux in their journey toward Aurora's lair—Dawn—would bring them together.
Grandpa Curry had said the stars held other secrets. But what they were he never said, just winked. "Laddie, when ye're a wee bit older, ye'll understand."
Why did adults talk in enigmatic riddles? Ma and Pa for certain had no problem talking plainly when there were chores to do. Boys of a certain age were old enough, almost, to do a man's work, but too young to be taken into that confidence adults shared.
"Yeah," he said aloud with a smile, "when I'm a wee bit older …"
They had both grown some these last few years—physically, a bit; knowingly, heaps. But, with their families gone, they would have to figure the world out for themselves. Or at least Han as the elder would lead the best he could for both of them, traveling a path with Jed to, albeit, destinations unknown, as now.
The first inkling of pre-dawn light inched over the horizon to the east. That was the way the train had gone—traveling furiously into the blackness, the head lamps of the locomotive directing it into the mysterious dark as it hurtled forward, always ahead, heralding its arrival down the line.
Surely, those torch-like stars might lead him to Jed. For, with their former homes and families now but a memory, wherever they both were, now, was home.
~~00oo00~~
To be continued