Four-Hundred Miles of Bad Road

by J.D. Graves

About the Author: J.D. Graves is an author and playwright who lives in East Texas with his wife and children. His plays have appeared most recently at the 2016 New York International Fringe Festival and the 2007 FronteraFEST. His short fiction can be found or is forthcoming in, Switchblade #8, Tough Crime #1, Black Mask #4, Santa Cruz Weird, Intrinsick 2.3, and others. When not reading and writing, he spends his time teaching theatre and editing the genre rag, EconoClash Review.

Excerpt

Tim Bundrow rocked against the railcar’s slated wall, unable to sleep. His Uncle Joe sat nearby. Tim tried to ignore the old fool. Had done so ever since they hopped this westbound train outside Gross Tete. A daylight flip was never advised, but they’d had no choice. Now the cannonball sailed towards the setting sun over the Atchafalaya swampland.

The sounds of the clacking rails punctuated Uncle Joe’s high-pitched drawl, “And that’s how Mr. Ferguson learned the identity of his kid’s real father …”

     Tim didn’t open his eyes—distinctly hearing the pop of the old man slapping his thigh, “You hear me, Nephew? The real father!”

Tim begrudgingly offered a low, “Mmm …”

Uncle Joe brayed, “Ferguson was the last to know!”

The nook between stacks of cargo offered Tim’s aching body zero mercy. Tim shifted his weight—no relief. He hated this train and having to tramp rides. He hated his empty pockets and the holes in his boots. He hated the ways his broken and rotting teeth throbbed. He moaned and adjusted himself again, a wild flailing of arms and legs. No matter what he tried—nothing helped.

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