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Down in the Dirt v060

Boxcar

Joseph Jude

    He had to be spitting every five seconds. His head just hung to the side, but he was perfectly conscious, because he would continue to spit, over and over, into the corner of the subway car. A small pool of saliva grew, glistening in the florescent light.
    Clarence was becoming nauseous. He couldn’t understand why people did that. It was their own spittle. Was it that horrible to have to swallow it? Then again, judging by the appearance of this guy, maybe it was. His clothes were torn and dirty. So was his face. He was slumped in his seat like a bag of trash. Who knew what kind of mucus was dripping down his throat. Finally, the train stopped at Wilson Avenue, and the bum made a great effort to lift himself up and stagger out of the car.
    Clarence was all alone on the subway now. It felt to him as if he’d been riding it all night, although it really had only been about an hour. He lounged across his two seats, headphones in his ears, riding the train around the city. He had no where else to go. He couldn’t go home. His mom would begin ragging on him again about the usual things, mostly his lack of a job. His girl had dumped him earlier in the month, for pretty much the same reason. His mooching just wasn’t so cute anymore.
    So now he sat here on the train, like he did so many nights. Looking over his sneakers at the passing world for something, anything interesting to come by. Maybe a subway seat wasn’t the best place for sneakers that cost almost two hundred dollars but Clarence wouldn’t dare wear anything less. Even on the subway, where he spent most of his time.
    He searched the pockets of his leather jacket. He was hoping he had left a pack of cigarettes in there but unfortunately, he had used those up yesterday. He was miserable. He was hoping that somebody more exciting than the mucus man would step on just so he’s have somebody to bum smokes off of. The train stopped at Hoffman Street. Nobody is ever on the platform of Hoffman Street. At least, not usually.
    But this time, somebody caught his attention. It was a small, old man. He had to be ninety. It was cold out, but the man had no coat on. He was only dressed in old brown slacks and a thin button down shirt with suspenders. He was hunched over and, with his long nose and thinning hair, looked like some kind of funny bird that somebody dressed in their grandfather’s clothes.
    It wasn’t the man that Clarence was watching, however. It was what he had with him. He was pushing onto the train the strangest case that he had ever seen. It was bigger than the old man himself. It rolled on three small wheels, though the man still had to budge it with all his strength. It was some sort of dark ruddy wood, black and worn in some areas. The case could’ve been as old as the man was. The seam ran down the entire side of the box as if it split to open, though one side was wider than the other side which was apparently the lid. It had several latches running down it, though no locks. Its shape was the strangest thing. It curved around and over itself, sort of like a big wooden “S” with an extra hump in the back.
    Clarence couldn’t imagine what was stored in there. Some kind of musical instrument, maybe. The man wheeled it over to the corner and sat down in the seat next to it as the train closed its door and took off again.
    He looked at the case and the man. The man stared at the floor.
    “Hey.” Clarence called to the old man.
     He sheepishly looked back.
    “What’s the hell’s in that case ah yours?”
    The old man grinned weakly.
    “Oh, I don’t reveal what’s inside to just anyone.”
    “Why not? What’s in there?”
    The old man’s head shook a little bit. Clarence couldn’t tell if he was trying to laugh or not.
    “Only certain people get to see what’s inside here.”
    Clarence was starting to feel a little annoyed. Actually, he’d been annoyed all night and some old geezer treating him like a punk just wasn’t sitting too well.
    “Oh yeah?” Clarence spoke though one side of his mouth, as he was making up his mind about what to do. “So, ah, whatever’s in that box, pretty valuable, huh?”
    The old man looked at the box, then back at Clarence. His eyes couldn’t open wide enough for the boy to see his pupils. Just two dark slits, like on a mask.
     “I suppose if you did look, you would find what’s inside to be valuable.”
    “But ya ain’t gonna let me see.”
    The man shook his head, still smiling.
    “C’mon.”
    “I’m afraid, you’re better off not looking in the box.”
    Clarence nodded with a snort. “Okay, sure.”
    The train continued through three more stops, though nobody else stepped on or off. Clarence looked at the clock on his cel phone. Pretty soon, the subway would shut down for the night. What a crummy night. Just this old creep and him, riding the rails. And that case, and whatever is so damn important that he can’t see.
    It couldn’t be anything really valuable, Clarence reasoned. The strange shape wouldn’t allow it. It was doubtful he was keeping money in there. Gold? Jewelry? It was a specially made box. Something very strange had to be inside.
    “Probably his dead wife” He thought to himself.
    “No, he said I would find it valuable too. Maybe he’s just crazy”
    Clarence snapped back to reality and looked at the old man. The case was slightly open. All the latches were undone and it was cracked open. Not enough for Clarence to see. The old man was peaking inside like he was checking the contents.
    When he saw the boy watching him, he quickly closed it again.
    “Okay, that’s it!”
    Clarence hopped out of his seat and stomped over to the old man. The man lost his smile and backed up, blocking his body against the case.
    “Alright, open it!”
    “No.”
    “I said open it, old man, or I’ll open yer skull.”
    “I will not open it for you.”
    “Get the fuck outta my way!”
    Clarence swung his fist out, knocking the old man to the floor. Clarence looked down at him. Has struggled to move but wasn’t too hurt. Just a little bit of blood pooled under his nose. Clarence felt sorry for a moment then shook it off.
    “You’ll regret this.” The old man yelled to him. His voice was scratching by the attempt to speak with some volume.
    “Uh huh.” Clarence undid the two latches the old man had reset before he was approached. Clarence took the handle that was on the one side and flipped the case open.
    And inside was nothing.
    It was just an interior of the case, thickly padded with a grey velvet like material, though still matching the shape as the exterior.
    Clarence relaxed, slowly turning back to the “crazy old-“
    He clenched. There was a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down and saw the old man pulling an old empty syringe out of the back of his thigh.
    “What the hell...are...you” Clarence felt woozy. His vision blurred. Suddenly, he was out.
    He slumped into the seat that the old man previously occupied. The old man himself was on his feet now. He shuffled over and slowly but surly began pushing Clarence into the cavity of the case. He fit quite snug. His head slumped forward into the front curve while his hands were folded behind him to fit into the extra hump in the back. The old man positioned Clarence’s knees forward, and pushed his lower legs up behind him so they could fit into the lower curve. When he was completely in, the old man shut the lid and reattached all the latches, making the case air tight. He saw that his stop was nearing. He pulled a few padlocks out of his pocket. They matched the bronze latches which he applied them to.
    The train slowed down and the doors opened to the next platform. The old man struggled but once again was able to push the case, this time out of the train, leaving the subway car empty behind him.



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