Free Unhooking the Moon by Gregory Hughes

tell her how bad I was feeling and to have her put her arms around me. It would have been so nice to have her put her arms around me!
    â€˜Come on, Bob. What are you waiting for?’
    We cut through St Boniface like criminals on the run, and took every back street we could to the Symington Yard. When we got there we lifted the bikes over a small fence and scurried behind a signal box. The place looked dismal in the moonlight and the stench of diesel wafted in the warm air. And there were so many freight trains, containers, and boxcars. How Harold was going to find us I’d never know. And the more I thought about it the more I worried. How could Harold, who had difficulty walking, leave his house in the middle of the night and make his way down here? And then find us when he got here! And to add to my worries a guard was coming towards us. His flashlight found the doors of the boxcars and the seals on the containers. It searched the wheels of the trains and the windows of the passenger cars.
    â€˜He won’t come down here,’ whispered the Rat.
    And sure enough the beam of light hit the floor and the guard returned the way he came. Then, stepping out of the shadows, we saw two familiar figures.
    â€˜Let’s go,’ said the Rat.
    I followed her out and we made our way towards Harold and Little Joe.
    â€˜There’s no time to talk,’ said Harold. ‘Follow me.’
    We followed him in between two long freight trains. As we neared the end of the trains, an electric murmur flowed down the one to our right. Then there was a clanking sound as the engine pulled at the boxcars. Slowly the train began to move.
    â€˜Quickly! Get in this one!’ said Harold pointing to a boxcar with the doors open.
    Little Joe grabbed the bikes and they were soon inside. Our rucksacks followed.
    â€˜Take care of yourself, brother,’ said Joe. ‘Come back safe.’
    We hugged each other, something we had never done before, and I knew he would always be my friend. I climbed up into the boxcar and waited for the Rat. Harold removed a rucksack from his back. For a second I feared he would try and come with us. ‘It’s food for the journey,’ he said, handing me the rucksack.
    I wanted to say something nice but the words never came.
    â€˜You overwhelmed me, Harold,’ said the Rat. ‘A girl could not ask for a better boyfriend.’
    â€˜Do you think we’ll still get married?’ he asked. ‘When we’re sixteen?’
    â€˜We do get married, Harold. It’s our fate.’ She kissedHarold on the cheek and then grabbed my hand. I pulled her inside. Little Joe and Harold walked after us as the train pulled away.
    â€˜Close the doors until you’re out of town,’ said Little Joe. ‘Take care, brother! Take care, Marie Claire!’
    My father was dead. I was leaving home. And now I was waving goodbye to my best friends. If I felt sad before I felt even sadder now. When we pushed the doors closed it went dark. ‘Don’t put your flashlight on in case someone sees it,’ I said. And, sliding down the boxcar, I put my head in my hands.
    I stayed that way for some time and then I looked around me. It was too dark to see anything. And it felt strange being in the boxcar. It had an oily, musty smell and there was the constant sound of creaking wood and clattering metal. I thought I saw the Rat in the opposite corner. ‘Where are you?’
    â€˜I’m over here.’
    It was then that I realized there could be someone else in the boxcar with us. The fear hit me like lead. I fumbled for my flashlight and switched it on. ‘Oh thank God!’
    The Rat looked worried. ‘You OK, Bob?’
    â€˜Sure, come on – let’s get these doors open.’
    We tugged at the doors but they wouldn’t move.Then I found a hook-like catch over the handles. I tried to push it up but it was jammed.
    â€˜What if we can’t get out?’