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I didn’t stop until the moon was on its way out and the sun was on its way in. The cramps in my side stitched me to the plank I stopped on, and I knew it was time to rest. The track was about to cut out of the trees into another prolonged meadow, and it’d be easier to camp in the trees. I stepped off onto the gravel that lined the rails and turned to see where the boy was. He was a dot on the tracks, and he was moving steadily my way. I contemplated waiting for him since he was so persistent, but decided against it. He ruined the ride I had, and I’d have to foot it to the next Colony because of him. Who knew if I’d be able to hitch another ride before then? And once in the Colony, who knew what type of security his stunt was going to draw? He’d been trouble enough. Fall was coming, summer was losing its hold, and I was running out of time. He didn’t deserve anymore help from me.  
    I sighed and walked into the meadow and traced the line of forest with my steps.      

    “In a meadow like this, if you need to camp, it’s best to walk along the tree-line for a mile to two. It gets you off the track, and the tree-line can lead you back when you’re ready. If you settle in for the night in the trees directly along the tracks, you’re too close in. You can’t light a fire or even set up camp because you risk being seen. Sometimes, they stop the train unexpectedly for inspections or they spot-light the trees to hunt us out as the train passes.” We weren’t planning on setting up camp, but Xavi still taught every chance he got. The meadow was blooming in colors and buzzing in bugs. The horseflies were fearsome predators, and they were all I could concentrate on. Despite this, Xavi assumed I was paying attention.  
    “And, girlie, if a train comes now, you dive,” Randolf added. His beard was grayer than moonlight, but his eyes were young, blue, crystalline orbs that floated above his bulbous cheeks. He made me miss the Nicholas Celebration, because he looked just like all the pictures of Doctor Nicholas. As a kid, we’d decorate the tree, and I’d revel in the smell of pine in the living room, the lights, and the single present we were allowed to give and receive (although Mama and Daddy always snuck me two). It was my job to hang the picture of Doctor Nicholas on the door— the stock picture with his bulging cheeks and knowing eyes. They were the eyes that cured cancer between genetic pairings and medical innovations, and Randolf was practically his clone. It wasn’t his fault he made me homesick, but he annoyed me just the same because of it.  
    He camped with us the night before. He considered Xavi’s body and concluded that Xavi’d destroy him if he tried to rob us. Still, Xavi didn’t sleep the entire night so he could watch over us. He wouldn’t even trust me to a stint, and much to my dismay, the old man followed us out the next morning.  
    Randolf was spry. He climbed the wall better than us and taught us a few techniques that even Xavi didn’t know. Then, the two began swapping stories, and their Track chatter filled the empty air as we walked. Randolf grew on us throughout the day, the way rust grows on worn metal after each new rain. To watch the two reminded me that Xavi would one day become a Randolf, and I found comfort in the fact that there could be a future for boys like him out on the Tracks. I followed behind them, listening more than speaking. I couldn’t shake the feeling that every question they bounced back and forth to each other contained a million other questions between the beginnings and ends of each sentence. There was a subtlety to learning the Tracks, and Xavi knew the hidden cues better than I did.  
    I half listened to Randolf as he continued to say, “Even if you dive into the meadow and hide in the grass, I’ve heard tales of the Militia firing their riffles into the grass just for shits and giggles. Although I’m unsure of the accuracy of that rumor,