In The Ink Of The Stalks[] Prologue

Instructions

The first time Valen Calder saw me, I was sitting beside the railroad tracks eating a sandwich. I was fifteen then, and I wasn't waiting for a train. I wasn't watching for someone, and I wasn't trying to get anywhere in particular. I was just sitting there. The sun was sinking behind the trees, turning the sky orange over the tracks, and the rails stretched into the distance like two silver lines disappearing around a bend. Every few minutes, the metal gave a soft ticking sound as it cooled from the heat of the day. I sat on an old wooden railroad tie with my knees pulled against my chest. My shoes were dirty. My shirt was dirty. My hair was probably a mess. I didn't really care. I'd been walking for so long that my feet hurt every time I moved them. My backpack sat beside me, small and lumpy, holding everything I'd decided was important enough to bring: a change of clothes, a toothbrush, a pencil, an old paperback book, and the sandwich. The sandwich was the most important thing. I held it carefully in both hands and took a bite. It was peanut butter and jelly, the bread a little squished from being inside my backpack and the jelly leaking through one corner of the wrapper. It was still the best thing I'd eaten all day. I heard footsteps a few minutes later. At first, I thought they belonged to someone walking along the road, so I didn't look up. The footsteps got closer, heavy boots scraping over the gravel, slow and steady. When I finally glanced sideways, I saw a man walking beside the tracks. At least, I thought he was a man. Later, I'd learn he was only eighteen. At the time, eighteen might as well have been forty. He was tall and broad through the shoulders, wearing a faded blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His jeans were covered in dust, and his boots were black with grease and dirt. He carried a metal lunchbox in one hand and looked like somebody who belonged around trains. He walked past me without noticing at first, and I took another bite of my sandwich. Then his boots stopped scraping. I looked up again and found him staring at me. Not angrily. Somehow, that made me more nervous. His eyes moved over my backpack, my dirty shoes, and the sandwich in my hands before he looked down the empty road behind me and then back at me. "Hey," he said. I didn't answer. He seemed to realize he had no idea what to say next. "Uh... you got somewhere to go?" "Yeah," I said. My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to. "Somewhere." He stared at me for a second, then looked toward the tracks. I took another bite. He sighed, shook his head, and started walking again. I watched him go. One step. Two. Three. He made it about ten feet before stopping. He stood there with his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with a long breath, like he was trying to make some decision he didn't want to make. Then he turned around. I didn't know it then, but years later Valen would tell me he almost kept walking. He had every reason to. He had a younger brother waiting at home, a job he couldn't afford to lose, bills piled on the kitchen counter, a trailer that needed repairs, and a refrigerator that barely worked. He had no money, no room, and absolutely no idea what he was doing. Somehow, none of that mattered enough to make him keep walking. He came back toward me, stopped a few feet away, and put his hands on his hips. For a moment, he just stared at the ground before wiping a hand across his face. It looked almost like he was asking himself why he was doing this. Finally, he looked at me. "Come on." I blinked and looked behind him. There was nobody else there. "Me?" Valen gave me a tired look. "Yeah. You." I held my sandwich halfway to my mouth. "Wha—" "Well, are you coming or not?" I stared at him. This was probably the part where a smart kid would have run. Instead, I looked down at my sandwich, then at my backpack, then back at him. He looked intimidating. Really intimidating. He had grease under his fingernails and a small cut across one knuckle. His jaw was tight, and his eyebrows were pulled together like he'd been arguing with the whole world since breakfast. I wondered if this was how people got kidnapped. Maybe this was exactly how it happened. Some strange guy walked up beside the railroad tracks, said come on, and then you disappeared. I tightened my grip around the sandwich. "Where?" Valen shrugged. "Home." The word made me stop. I hadn't expected it to bother me. It was just a word. Five letters. Nothing special. But my stomach twisted anyway. Valen must have noticed something change in my face because his expression softened, just a little. He looked away. "You hungry?" I looked down at the sandwich. "No." My stomach growled so loudly that Valen stared at me. I stared back. Then he snorted. "Right."