Still Want to Do This? By Don Robishaw

Under the Christmas tree sat a Lionel model train set. 

                Later that morning, a boy named Donahue hopped his first boxcar, 

rode five miles on top, and walked home in a blizzard.            

~ ~ ~

Many years after, in a railyard on the east coast of the US, Donahue meets a stranger: Larry wakes to the drumming sound of a freighter coming to an abrupt jolt, shake, and halt. He hasn’t been riding rails long and sudden momentum swings freak him out.

Pinkerton head bangers patrol the yards, banging their batons on the sides of boxcars, adding to the ambience. Based on folklore or legend, he got hold of an agent’s bloody baton, sending the big bull and his dark blue uniform to early retirement.

How many days has Larry been in a hot, smelly freight car? A skull injury from a fall from a moving train turned his memories into a sieve. He was told his memory might improve.

He sits surrounded by a rough wooden deck inside a faded red boxcar. Can’t remember how he got here. He’s been on the move for a while.

Donahue wakes to the beat of a different drummer. Neither hobo nor wanderer, works overseas as Lead Service Rep for a consortium of companies who want to do business in Southeast Asia after the war. They're going to take an enormous loss in this venture, if it fails. When in the US, he continues to ride the rail. Been riding rails since his pre-teen days. He loves it.

He shoves off the opposite side-wall, rolls across the deck, and stands tall. With both palms, he pushes his wavy black hair backward and faces Larry. “Here we are.”

“Huh?”

“The crossroads, man. Time to ditch this train.”

“When you get to a fork in the road, pick it up,” says Larry.

Donahue laughs and slaps his belly. He left the east coast near the start of his home leave. In a yard outside the Big Apple; he bumped into this stranger. They’ve been doubled-up and free riding across the US, stopping in places they’ll never be again.

Before he returns overseas, he needs to fill a short-term sales position, to help him open business opportunities in Viet Nam and the rest of Southeast Asia. No success as yet. Donahue has a soft spot for veterans and promises his companion a job if he cleans up his act, locates his passport, and gets a visa in time.

Larry, a former army interrogator/interpreter, still speaks fluent Vietnamese. As an African American father of a daughter in Vietnam, he’s heard discrimination stories and wants to find and bring her back to the US.

~ ~ ~

Two weeks later, they meet at the LA airport and go straight to a row of blue and red lockers on the main deck. Mr. Johnson shows up a new man. Amazing what a full head and face shave and new clothes can do for a man. Donahue removes a key from his special shoe and grabs a thick manila envelope from the locker.

Next, they make their way to the lounge and wait to board flight 770 to Bangkok. “Two Pilsners and a bowl of pretzels.”

“I used to eat them with yellow mustard. Pretty damn good,” says Larry.
“This week, an authentic original Pilsner Urquell on tap,” states Greta, the bartender.

“You’ll love it, man.” Pushing his black hair back, he grabs a brass rail, vaults high over and deep into a lush brown adjustable seat.

“Five-point-six percent alcohol. Made in the city of Pilsen, in the Bohemian style,” she adds.

Donahue raises a stein to his nose, inhales hops and barley, downs half the glass, and eats two mustard flavored mini-pretzels. He possesses a friendly side when he drinks.

Larry says, “you love your brew, sir.”

“As much as I dig riding the rails.” Upper lip and black handle bar stash crusted with foam. “Told you before, don’t call me that. We left the military a long time ago. Donahue was a reserve officer.

“Sorry, Mr. Donahue.” He squeezes his temple and shakes his head. After a few beers, a flight delay, shots of Hennessy arrive. Two men raise their glasses.
“Salute!”

“Cheers! How did you get my paperwork so fast?”

“Ever hear of Mad Dog Carlson?”

“The General? He was a legend.”

“Retired. He got me in the National Guards. Still capable of pulling a few strings, even with the State Department.”

Larry asks, “where’s my papers?”

“Inside the locker with your per diem check.”

He rubs his palms.

“Set everything in motion beforehand.” He stares into Larry’s eyes. “You’re okay with this, right?”

“You can rely on me, sir. I’m clean. Memory is coming back too. Do you carry your passport on the freighters?”

“Hell no. Gave a buddy cash and paperwork for the airport storage unit. He buys a ticket, as everyone else does. Travel with no bread and no documents while riding the rails.”

“You are a crazy bastard, too.”

“Take after my uncle.” Eye-to-eye. “Still wanna do this? Go back to The Nam?”

The sound of clanging glasses and other sounds come from the kitchen. He takes a deep breath. Voices and music from the past enter Larry’s mind. He inhales again, holds, and exhales. It’s 1968. His first time in a bar, drinking a beer, and seeing her face. A shy boy and the first of many new experiences. He inhales and exhales.
Larry’s on a mission. He wants to find his daughter before Christmas and bring her stateside. Many Amerasian children have it rough growing up in Southeast Asia and in the US. He's committed to do whatever it takes to be a proper dad. He thinks it’s not too late.

Don Robishaw’s collection of five FF tales found in, ‘Bad Road Ahead’ was the Grand Winner in Defenestrationism, 2020 Flash Fiction Suite Contest.

Don’s short story entitled,’Bad Paper Odyssey’ was a semi-finalist in Digging Through the Fat 2018 Chapbook Contest.