The Railroad

Chapter 22

The chill in the air was the temperature form of drinking water while chewing mint gum: the number itself wasn't actually that low, but the sting of the wind made it feel much worse. George was shivering, rubbing his arms so the friction would provide his bare skin some more warmth. He wished he hadn't accidentally left his jacket down in that damned basement.

"Here," Dream whispered, draping his jacket over the brunet's shoulders.

It was the same one he'd left back at the campsite, the one he'd given back. He offered the blond a thank you and a kind smile, taking his soft hand as they hopped off the train, being sure to check that there was no one keeping watch before running off into the protection of the buildings.

The back alleys of which they were in were incredibly sketchy, graffiti littering the walls and the smell of cigarettes and weed drifting through the narrow space and attaching itself to their already dirty clothes. No one was outside their homes, if some of the spaces could even be called that; the broken windows revealed the filthy insides of the homes, trash scattered all over and mold growing on the walls.

The inhabited rooms were scarier than the empty ones, because from both shouting could be heard, as well as the sound of glass shattering and babies crying. Through some pairs of tattered curtains, a television could be seen rerunning the same movies it always did while a guy or girl sat on the couch, either asleep or not even paying attention to what was going on.

Finally, they emerged from the dark depths of these alleys into a much more open, crowded area. The streets were so much more populated than that of Tallahassee, people navigating their way through the many booths of people out selling whatever valuables they had without a hint of fear or distrust on their faces.

Everyone had a grin, and those who didn't looked like they were about to or simply had peaceful looks. They all greeted one another in some way or another as they went back and forth, purchasing whatever they needed with little complaint as to the quality of the item.

The two scenes he'd seen thus far were so vastly different that George thought he was imagining one, or both, of them. These people seemed didn't even seem too much better off, but the vibe after stepping past that one wall of bricks seemed to completely shift the aura completely. The brunet felt much more welcome around these sweet people then back in that terrifying alleyway.

Carefully, the pair made their way through the people, and not a single person made a face at them or their interlocked hands. This was surprising since George thought that North Carolina was a pretty homophobic state. Maybe it was once, but he guessed that people had bigger worries now than who loved who. Honestly, he wished it didn't take a whole apocalypse for people to realize that.

As he was staring around at all the unfamiliar faces in the crowd, he missed the shadow of a taller boy coming up in front of him and ran smack into the boy, taking both of them to the ground.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!" George stuttered, hurrying back onto his feet and taking the boys hand. He could hear the blond laughing at his clumsiness from behind and shot the taller a glare over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, it's all good," the boy responded in a kind yet oddly familiar voice.

He brushed his long, curly hair out of his eyes with dainty fingers decorated in bright purple paint and silver rings. Suddenly, as George made eye contact with the bright bluish-gray eyes, the tall, skinny frame of the boy was able to be placed with a name: Karl. It was clear by his open mouth and widened eyes that he recognized the brunet as well.

"George?!" he said excitedly, pulling the shorter into a tight hug.

"Karl, what are you doing here?" George asked, laughing at the ridiculous situation and wondering what type of luck they must have had to be here at the exact same time.