The Hobo No-Go

Last night I dreamt of eating a cheeseburger. It was so large I could barely hold it in my hands. Served by a perfect white linen, iron pressed, Americana waitress. Arriving on a plate full of curly fries and onion rings; accompanied with an ice cold chocolate malt served in a steel cup. Sitting next to me in a diner full of glorious chrome and red and white checked tablecloths was my little brother Caleb, chomping on a humongous hot dog. These dreams pop up from time to time. It is strange because I have never ever eaten a cheese burger. I first dreamt of this before I even knew what a diner was.

Dreaming this always means something; something important. Today, it is going to be vital that I pay attention.

We, by we, I mean myself and Caleb, are standing outside Fat Boy’s 24-hour Rib Shack. Holding onto my hand, I consider how small he really is. Hand holding is an indulgence that as his big sister, I should really start to discourage. The Rib Shack is a half burnt out shell, the windows are gone, but the back office still had a door lockable from the inside; last night’s safe haven.

“Caleb.”

“Yes, April.”

“Tell me everything important.”

“This is our base. If we get separated I come back here and wait.”

“Now make the mark.”

He obediently goes up to the post by the front door and carves an X in it with his pocket knife. He is eight years old, bright eyed, cautious and eager to impress. Turning to smile at me he looks for any sign of encouragement. I give him a thumbs up.

“Now, Caleb why should you not enter the Rib Shack if we get separated?”

“If there is a triangle pointing downwards underneath my cross.”

“What does that mean?”

“That it is unsafe, spoiled.”

“What do you do then?”

“I go up the highway and meet you at the burnt out truck.”

“Good boy, now shall we go into town?”

Smiling he runs back over and pushes his hand back inside mine. Indulging him further, I give his hand a tight squeeze and we head off.

The sign X is a general sign for O.K. the upside down triangle means too many other travellers; other people. It means the meaning of the sign above has changed. It is spoilt. It is a code we use. The ancient rule of the road used by old hobos.

Hobos were transient workers who used to move through rural America. For their own security they used to travel at times by stealth. Their secret? A system of scrawled symbols that only the initiated would understand.

These symbols were really hieroglyphs, appearing on posts and bridges, town signs and barn doors. A secret language written with whatever came to hand - chalk, a nail, or even a sharp-edged rock. It was their survival code.

We are following a trail to somewhere safe. The hobos are back. The cities are full and dangerous; prisons for the masses. Rural America is empty and unclaimed. Yet, still incredibly unsafe for the blind and misinformed.

A ten-minute walk from the Rib Shack, was our destination. Another lost town, derelict and forgotten, rotting into the ground in middle America. Everybody had left. Cracked sidewalks and overgrown gardens were our welcome party. Those who did not leave when they were supposed to; small pockets of people who defied the orders; they all tended to head for the hills. These larger evacuated communities were eerily unoccupied. These communities were still swept for the missing. Bounty hunters would trawl their streets to collect the defiant for profit. They were the most dangerous places to still live outside of the cities. Places best avoided always proved to be rich pickings for salvage. Here we would source the sweetest supplies.

In the second house we struck lucky and found tinned peaches. Caleb now walks along fork in hand, enjoying his treasure. I already have a half full bag of supplies. Our people had been through here and marked the garden posts along the street. Caleb told me their meanings.

A post marked with a circle meant not to bother.

A post marked with an x meant there were still supplies.

If a triangle pointing downwards had been added it meant the supplies were spoilt, picked clean.

“Caleb what is that sign?”

He stared at the post. It was a plus sign, with a circle containing three dots in the top corner.

“It means doctor; it means there are medical supplies”

Medicine supplies were valuable, they were high value and good for trade.

“April can I search it solo?”

“I don’t know.”

“There is no one here, and I need to learn.”

“How’s your birdcall?”

“CUCK-oooooo”

“Okay I’ll stand guard, any sign of trouble you let that call rip.”

Affectionally, I pat his head and take the half eaten can of peaches off him. Watching him go in, I climb the stairs and wait on the porch. I have a very precious heart-shaped locket round my neck and I toy with it watching the empty houses. Looking around the entranceway I am waiting in, I see the crooked welcome mat. It is spotless. It is the cleanest thing I have seen all day. That itching at the back of my brain begins. You know that sensation that something might be wrong. Stretching out my foot, I push the mat aside.

Carved into the floorboards is a circle next to a square with a large dot inside each. Underneath this is three diagonal lines crossed horizontally with two more lines. The first two symbols mean, angry man lives here. The crossing lines mean - run. It is the Hobo No-Go sign.

I hear Caleb sound his cuckoo call.

Caleb’s can of peaches drop to the floor as I sprint into the house. Scanning all the downstairs’ rooms for Caleb, my mind starts to spin. I am looking for the danger. Mounting the stairs to the next floor two at a time, I tear into the backroom. Caleb is standing by the window shaking.

Caleb points behind me.

He says, “Elephant.”

Turning around I see the door close and a large figure emerges out of the shadows wearing a grey gas mask with a long snout.

Slinging my bag of tinned goods at the figure I move towards Caleb. The predator bats the bag away. Circling with Caleb behind me I watch as the figure picks up a pitchfork from behind the door. Feeling at my waist for my knife, I get stuck trying to release the clasp. Glancing down for a split second I take my eyes off the figure. As I look up it is too late. The pitchfork is rammed into my stomach. My whole body locks and spasms. The pitchfork is pulled out. As I tumble to the floor, I spin to locate Caleb. He too is on the floor backed up against the wall, frozen in terror. Ripping my locket off I chuck it at Caleb and it lands at his feet. The chain breaks and the links cascade towards the floor. Bouncing and spinning around; dancing in the light the broken chain feels like a countdown.

“Caleb! Take it and run.”

He does not move. I see his focus switch to behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see the figure holding out a handgun; pointing directly at my head, time stops.

I am blinded by the white flash of the muzzle.

Then everything is black.

The next time, I open my eyes I am staring at the face of the figure with the gas mask. Unable to move or speak every frustration I have ever felt bubbles to the surface. Removing his mask, I am greeted by a familiar face. It is the face of my father. Holding my locket, now on a long piece of string, it glows with a ghostly blue light. Placing it around my neck, he snaps the door of it shut and the light extinguishes.

Instantly I feel movement come back to my body and punch him in the face. He recoils away but I am frozen by the sight of my arm.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.

“Where’s a mirror.”

Pointing into the next room, I follow his directions.

Standing at a bathroom sink staring at my reflection, the change is obvious. My face is different; different hair, different nose, different skin colour.

He follows me in.

Lying in the bathtub is my old crumpled body.

“Now I’m really mad,” I turn to him and say, “that was a waste of a good body.”

Silently, he just looks at me.

“Was any of that truly necessary?” I continue.

“He failed again.”

“Father, it really hurt.”

“I know, I know.”

“Then why do it?”

“He is not tough enough yet.”

“Will he ever be? Are these games doing anything apart from traumatising him.”

“He needs to protect you as much as you protect him.”

“Endlessly rebooting me into different bodies is not going to help,” I exclaim. “You never had to shoot me in the face, I could have kept my old body.”

“He must protect the locket. That holds your consciousness, that is all of you.”

“Stop dragging us round these one horse towns and let us just continue onto the goal.”

“He is not ready.”

I walk over to him and look into his face. Holding his chin, I turn it so he has to look at me. His face is almost like ash; his eyes are yellow. The vibrant light his eyes once held is now barely a flicker. The disease is advancing.

“How long?”

“Five weeks at most.”

“If we go now, you can at least help us part of the way,” I implore, “end his training.”

“He’s not ready.”

“Spare the rod and you spare the child. You’re a relic and an idiot.”

“The next stage is far more dangerous; he needs to help you like you help him.”

“Where is he, can I see him?”

“He’s back at the Rib Shack, I followed him there after he ran away.”

“What? You’ve left him out there alone?”

“He needs to toughen up.”

“How long ago?”

“Six hours.”

“Six hours? Why did you wait so long to reboot me? If you say he needs to toughen up once more, I’ll not be responsible for my actions.”

“I know, I know.”

I grab my bag and head for the door.

“You’re the worst father.” I open the door to go out into the night. “To both of us.”

Sitting on the floor outside the locked office door to the Rib Shack, I lightly bang my head against it.

“Caleb, I know you’re in there.”

Silence.

“Caleb, April sent me. Look through the spyhole and I can show you her locket.”

“…I can’t reach, I’m too small.”

“Stand on a chair.”

Hearing the scraping of a chair pulled over to the door, I stand up. Presenting myself for inspection with my hand underneath the heart-shaped locket so he can see it, I wait. It takes forever then I hear the chair pulled away. The door clicks and opens slightly ajar. Pushing open the door, I see Caleb hiding in the corner. I walk over to him.

Sitting down on last night’s bedding I give him space.

“Caleb, it is like I said, April sent me.”

Looking up at me, his eyes are full of tears. Smiling at him I give him a thumbs up. He picks himself up and comes and sits on my knee; hugging me intensely.

“April says, I am to be your new big sister”.

We smile at each other and he lightly holds the locket looking at it then into my eyes. He slips his hand into mine, my heart is breaking.

“Caleb, you can call me May.”