Crossing the Wire by Will Hobbs Read Free Book Online Page A

around the wound, cleaned it, and stitched it up. I had never been in a hospital before, never had stitches before. I was frightened as a baby rabbit at the bottom of a bucket. I was too afraid to answer the doctor’s questions.
    The doctor said it would take me awhile to get my memory back, but he was wrong about that. I hadn’t lost my memory, and I knew why a policeman was keeping an eye on me from the door. The doctor said they were going to hold me at the hospital until it was safe for me to travel. I sneaked out three hours later, when the policeman stepped away to get something to eat or visit the bathroom. Fortunately, I still had my shoulder bag, even my crumpled straw hat.
    I spent the day where it felt safest, in Mazatlán’s most crowdedstreets. Over and over, I wondered if I should just give up and try to go back home. But that wouldn’t solve anything. Somehow, I had to get to El Norte. Late in the day I headed for the train yards. There was no way around it: I had to get back on a train. This time I had to be smarter, and hope for better luck.
    In and around the yards, there were many places to hide, and many people hiding. At dusk, a train showed signs of pulling out at any second. Everyone ran, like a flock of birds bursting from the trees and flying to the same fence wire. By the grace of God, the security guards stood by and watched the stampede without even letting on that they noticed.
    I was about to join the many people running for the empty flatcars, but I was wary of joining them. Wouldn’t they be the first to get kicked off? Just then a boy at my elbow veered off toward some flatcars stacked with automobile carriers. I sprinted to catch up, then panted, “Mind if I come with you?”
    â€œWhy not?” he called as we ran. He had a wide, friendly smile and wild hair that stood straight up. He was my size, my age, with the same dark brown skin. I watched as he climbed onto a coupling and jumped down onto the ground on the other side. I did the same. The train lurched into motion. “Hurry!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I know a trick!”
    I ran to catch up, afraid I’d lost my chance to catch this train. Loping along in the shadow of one of the towering, enclosed automobile carriers, the boy sized it up as if picking out a horse. The vehicles, three across and three high, showed through narrow gapsin the metal siding. The metal doors at the ends of the carrier were locked shut.
    The wild-haired boy sprang for a ladder and climbed. I hated the idea of hanging on to another ladder for miles on end, but now I had no choice, not if I was going to catch this train. Too late now to do anything but leap and grab and climb up after him.
    As I climbed, the train picked up speed. Three mojados were running alongside, still hoping to get on board, but the train was already moving too fast. Disappointment was written large on their faces.
    With all the racket and motion, my stomach churned and my head swam. I had nothing to tie myself on with. What was to keep me from falling?
    â€œKeep coming, amigo,” called the voice from above, so full of confidence. He scampered the rest of the way up the ladder, then disappeared over the top. What in the world?
    High on the ladder, high as an eagle’s nest, I looked over the roof. My wild companion was nowhere to be seen.
    â€œDrop your bag first,” called his echoing voice.
    Holding for dear life to the top of the ladder, I leaned over a narrow opening. It wasn’t so far to the floor—an easy drop if the train was standing still. To get inside, I was going to have to climb on top of the train first, and it was swaying like a tree in a windstorm. I looked away for a second, and that was a mistake. The ground was a long, long way down, and everything was a blur. My legs began to tremble. “You can do it!” called that encouraging voice.
    I don’t have any choice, I thought. I threw my bag