Transcontinental Read Online Free

bucks.”
    The guard smiled at him.”That’s a true railfan. We’ll see ya later.”
    Leroy hopped off the golf cart, waved to the man, and crossed the street, scanning the strip mall before him as he wove a plan for progress.
    * * *
    It was all about the towers, he figured.
    Security wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t lost in a daydream. Assuming he could get in unseen, he’d have a golden chance of holing up in a car until one of the trains left. If it wasn’t his, he could easily bail before it hit dangerous speeds. How to evade the towers’ all-seeing supervision was another issue.
    A little diner called the Railway Cafe, starved for customers as Leroy was for real food, was located on a corner that allowed him to keep an eye on the departure yard while he chewed beef jerky at a table out front. The stuff might have protein, but it didn’t leave him feeling full. Maybe he hadn’t eaten enough.
    His best idea relied on the cover of night. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was a start. It was only one o’clock, though. There he was, wasting half a day pretending to read a free local newspaper. He’d already been caught there once. If it happened again, it’d expose his lies from earlier and likely be the end of the line.
    For a moment, he thought that might not be the worst outcome. In one day, he’d had a brush with death. Was this woman worth his life?
    Leroy tugged at a strip of beef between his teeth until it ripped in half. It was worth the life he’d been living. He hoped to change that.
    He lifted another piece of dried meat to his mouth, then dropped it as a train horn, deafening and robust, blared from the yard down the street. He craned his head to get a better view as a train slogged out of the yard, puffs of white escaping the vertical exhaust pipe like a string of pearls being pulled into the sky, growing blurrier and more ethereal as they ascended.
    That could be the only north-bound till tomorrow, or the day after. He didn’t know how often trains ran, or how far they went.
    Through the glass of the diner, he noticed the owner scowling in his direction. The last thing he wanted to do was offend or annoy anyone. Leroy packed up the jerky and the newspaper, in case he needed insulation at some point, pushed his seat in and vacated the premises.
    He needed to kill time, but had no idea how. If there was anything around besides a few local businesses, the rail yard, and an ocean of ankle-height shrubs, Leroy couldn’t see it. He regretted not grabbing one of Ms. Stacey’s word search booklets on the way out.
    The first task was to get out of the heat, or at least out of the sun. One of the few buildings nearby was a clothing store called Overall’s. Leroy had never been a beacon of fashion, as most of his clothes came from the same budget superstore from which his mother bought groceries, but he assumed a clothing store would have dressing rooms, air-conditioned and perfect for hiding.
    He headed down the short road toward the shop, his shadow thick and black beneath him in the overwhelming sunlight. A bell dinged inside as he pulled the door handle, and was awash in a gust of air, refreshingly chilly on his sweaty skin. The place seemed to specialize in rail workers’ clothes, and it looked the part, painted in earthy tones, walls lined with fake railroad track. Jumpsuits, slacks, and hard boots covered the shelves, and strange specialized gloves, the function of which escaped Leroy. The featured item: overalls.
    A young man near the back spotted him. “Welcome to Overall’s, home of the overall. Can I help you find anything today?”
    Leroy focused on the T-shirts he pretended to sift through. “Just looking.”
    “If you need help, let me know.”
    Leroy doubted the man would help him if he told him what he needed. He continued to shuffle through the shirts until the employee lost interest in him. Halfway between the front door and the fitting rooms to his right, Leroy slipped his shoes