The train pulled out of the station. Once more I
wasn’t on it. “”That’s the eighth locomotive
you’ve avoided,” the woman said. “I know it,”
I replied. “I was distracted by the two
idiots in sleeveless t-shirts who got out
of that car with the clock radio blaring
Yanni. I’ve been meaning to ask you, by the
way, how does he get that to work in his car?”
The woman smirked, slightly. “A.C. adapter,”
she said. “Yuri plugs into the cigarette
lighter. He has it Velcro’d to the dashboard.”
I nodded and sat back on the bench inside
the Bogotol train station. She tapped her feet
and stood up. “Speaking of which, do you want to
have a cigarette? I’m craving nicotine.”
I nodded and got up. We walked outside and
there was Yuri in his car, rocking out to
Def Leppard and playing air drums with one arm
while chugging vodka with the other. “Da da
da!” he yelled as we passed, but Yuri didn’t
seem to notice the woman or me at all.
His two friends came running up carrying a
golden bell attached to a leather strap. One
opened the back door and dove inside and
the other followed right behind him. “Go! Go!
Go!” they yelled, in unison. “We’ve got its bell!”
“What in the…” I began, but trailed off when I
saw Kublai Khan chasing them on a war horse
and screaming something in Old Mongolian
while drunkenly swinging a samurai sword.
Yuri dropped the vodka and peeled out, leaving
skid marks on the pavement as they sped away.
“And you ask why I don’t stay here?” I mumbled.
watching Khan give chase. “Come back, Shane!” the woman
yelled. I laughed so hard I almost pissed in my
pants. “And you ask why I like you,” I said. “We’re…”