“This how you want to do it?” I asked.
“It’s how you want it. I’m just lyin’ here.”
I waited a few seconds, thinking she might relent. Finally I said, “I love you, Annie.”
The words caused her to flinch, but she kept silent.
It was a lot harder leaving Annie than it had been to leave Eileen—I had no whiskey to ease my path. Tears cut down my cheeks, and I must have decided a dozen times to turn back. But something kept me going and I climbed down from the tree and walked out onto the stony section of the bank and stood scanning the wall of jungle on the far side of the river. Bobby Forstadt and his punky blond girlfriend were sitting cross-legged on the rocks. They shaded their eyes against the sun, which had broken through the overcast, and stared at me.
“Where you goin’?” Bobby asked.
“East,” I said. I didn’t feel like talking to him, but I knew I’d have to.
“No shit!” He scrambled up to his feet. “How come?”
“Bobby, I don’t feel much like talkin’, all right. Go talk to Annie and she’ll tell you. She’s up in her room.”
“Naw, she ain’t.” His girlfriend pointed back toward the tree. “She’s right there.”
Annie was coming out from under the shadow of the tree, dragging her pack along the ground—she must have stuffed it in record time. She was wearing faded jeans and an old sweatshirt. I grinned at her, but as she approached she dialed down my pleasure by saying, “You better be right about this, you son of a bitch.”
Bobby cupped his hands and shouted, “Annie and Billy Long Gone…catchin’ out over the Wall!” Then he repeated it, except instead of “catchin’ out over the Wall” he said, “…movin’ to the next level.” People filtered out of the jungle, dropped from the tree, and before long we had a crowd of maybe twenty, twenty-five gathered around, asking why we were leaving and what they could do. Annie stood mute, and I fielded the questions as best I could. The news about Euliss sobered the mood, but even so nobody appeared to grasp why we were leaving. Except maybe for Pie. He shouldered his way to me and handed me a packet of dried fish wrapped in leaves and a can of red spray paint.
“I kinda figgered I’d be the one going over the Wall,” he said. “But I guess it ain’t in me. Hope you make it, Billy. When you get where you goin’, paint me a message on the train.”
“I’ll do’er,” I said, and we shook on it.
More people came, bringing so much food, we couldn’t have carried half of it. Annie got to hugging her friends, and some folks started singing, and everybody was sharing food, and I could see it was turning into a party and was afraid if we stayed much longer we’d get caught up in it. I shouted “Hey!” and kept shouting it until I had everyone’s attention. Then I said, “Thank y’all for comin’ down to see us off! We appreciate it! But we’re gon’ be leavin’ now!”
“What’s the hurry?” somebody shouted, and several people laughed.
“I tell you what the hurry is,” I said. “This place kills somethin’ in us. It makes us settle for half a life. Maybe one reason we settle for it is that’s more’n most of us ever had. But there’s somethin’ else goin’ on, though I couldn’t put a name on it. Somethin’ that makes us just set around waitin’ to die. It’d be easy for me’n Annie to hang out and party. Hell, after a good party, we might change our minds. But I ain’t gon’ let that happen.”
Some people broke off from the edge of the crowd and walked away.
“This ain’t nothin’ to celebrate,” I went on. “We ain’t happy to be leavin’. We’re rollin’ the dice. But this way we get to do the rollin’ ourselves. Staying here’s the same as not even pickin’ ’em up. And all that gets you is what you already know. What Euliss Brooks knew. What Josiah Tobin and Nancy Savarese knew. And the rest of ’em who ain’t here to party, what they knew. We’re leavin’ ’cause it’s our only chance of breakin’ through to somethin’ better. Yonder ain’t no place to build a life. It’s a place where you get your shit together ’fore you move on again. It’s a goddamn homeless shelter with a view. We ain’t s’posed to live here, we’re s’posed to stop over for a while and then be gone. That’s why we’re leavin’. We want to find us a home.”
More of the crowd had drifted away as I spoke—it appeared there were no more than ten people left. Pie, Bobby Forstadt and his girlfriend, and some others.
I adjusted the weight of my pack and said, “Thanks for the send-off. Maybe we’ll see you down the road.” Then I picked my way down the bank and set out to ford the river. I didn’t look back, but I heard Anne splashing after me and somebody called out, “Safe rails!” By the time we reached the other side of the river, everybody except Bobby Forstadt and his girlfriend had gone, and they were back to sitting as they’d been before they saw me, talking and gesturing—Annie and I already a closed entry in Bobby’s notebooks. To tell the truth, I felt the same way about Yonder. The people I’d met there had been turned into memories, and in my mind I was already going over the Wall. The tree, with its multileveled canopies and chambers, its dark gleaming branches, once again had the look of a ruin, and I supposed that was all it had truly ever been.
I half-expected the jungle to try and thwart our departure, to send legions of bugs and snakes and whatever else it could muster against us; but we reached the tracks without incident. A black train was waiting, bending around the curve of the green hill. A young one, unscarred and gleaming. I’d been hoping for the train Santa Claus had ridden—at least I knew that one could make the trip. We crawled into one of the cars and settled in, and less than five minutes later we started to roll.
I wish I had thunder and lightning in my words to tell you of that trip, because it deserves to be written large and luminous and noisy; but the world doesn’t sing that song through me, and I’m stuck with speaking in a plainer voice. It began ordinarily enough. Annie was still angry at me for forcing her hand, but she was more scared than angry, and she sat with her knees drawn up, picking at frays in the knees of her jeans. I watched the hills passing out the door of the car, thinking maybe I shouldn’t have pulled Annie into this, that it might have been kinder just to go without a word. I was glad to be on the move once again. It may be that the universe has no rhyme or reason, but I couldn’t accept that a bunch of hobos had been brought to Yonder merely because they fell down the same crack, and so while I was scared, too, I was excited in a way I’d never been before. I wasn’t just looking for a new place to take a leak in, a new town where I could run hustles and sell emergency food stamps for crank; I had a sense of myself as an adventurer, an explorer, a penetrator of the unknown. Maybe this notion was bogus, overblown, but it had been a long time since I had perceived myself in such a clean light, and I wasn’t about to spoil the feeling this gave me by overanalyzing the situation.
I tried talking to Annie, but she wasn’t up for it. However, after we’d gone about a mile, she scooted over and tucked herself under my arm, and we sat like that for the better part of an hour, until the train started winding down out of the hills. Through cuts between the hills we could see that yellowy green plain laid out under a high sun, and the blue dazzles of the lakes scattered across it. The windy rush of the train and the brilliant light made it all seem hopeful, as did the rich decaying smell of the marshlands as we swept out onto the plain. It resembled the plain I’d crossed with Pie after leaving Klamath Falls, with little islands of solid ground here and there that supported trees whose twisted trunks reminded me of Monterey pines, but whose leaves were ribbony and fluttered in the wind like streamers. Not a sign of life, though I assumed there were fish in the lakes and the waterways that fed into them. It was exhilarating to see, but soon it grew boring, this interminable passage of reeds and lakes and twisted trees. The train appeared to be flying past the same scene repeated over and over. Our initial excitement dissipated, and we sat against the side wall of the car, eating dried fish and jungleberries, talking but not saying much, just “Pass me the fish,” and “Want some water?” and “You feelin’ okay?” Comforting noises more than conversation.