The Undertaker

“Promise? Because I'm bone tired of Chicago, Talbott. It's flat worn me out and there's nothing here I want to go back to. Frankly, Boston sounds pretty good to me. Anywhere sounds pretty good, so stop trying to talk me out of it.” She still had her arm through mine and she pulled me out the door onto the platform. “I'm coming, are you?”

I pulled my arm free and ran down the platform toward the staircase, but she blew by me at a dead run. I ran after her, but I never stood a chance. In seconds, we were up on the street, walking away, and blending into the fast-moving crowd. The truth was I was glad she was with me. I also knew it was stupid and very dangerous, but I couldn't stop myself anymore. She was so alive, and I was so tired of being alone.

“Let's take the train to Indiana,” I decided and told her. “The South Shore. It'll get us out of here, and it's in the right direction.”

“Okay. The South Shore station is under the Prudential Building.”

“I was there yesterday. I had to fight off the hookers for a pay phone.”

“It's so nice to be wanted,” she laughed as she latched onto my arm again. “We're disguised as a couple. But to make it work, you've got to pretend you're enjoying it.”

We walked up Randolph past a long line of stores. Every half block I pulled her into a doorway. She would put both arms around me inside my jacket and rest her head on my chest while I looked up and down the street. “We could move a bit faster if you didn't keep doing that,” I told her.

“I'm pretending, remember. So stop complaining.”

What could I say? I looked up at the sky, expecting a lightning bolt to zap me any minute, but the tall buildings and deep doorways probably ruined Terri's aim.

At the next corner I saw the entrance to the underground commuter rail station. We passed two gypsy girls on the stairs hawking cellophane-wrapped roses to the tourists. Sandy started down the stairs, but I pulled her back and reached into my pants pocket. I pulled out a badly wrinkled five-dollar bill and handed it to one of the girls, who smiled and gave me one of the big red ones.

“Here,” I said sheepishly as I turned and gave it to Sandy.

Her face lit up like a small child. “A rose? A red rose? You?” I seemed to have caught her completely by surprise. “Uh… I really don't know what to say, Talbott.”

“You said to pretend we're a couple,” I answered.

Before I could stop her, she reached up and kissed me softly on the cheek. “This is very sweet of you,” she said. “I know you're just pretending, Talbott, and that's okay. You're safe out here on the street, but don't do something like this when we're alone.”

Hand-in-hand, we ran down the stairs to the underground railroad station under the Prudential Building. There was a large, framed railroad route map standing next to the ticket booths. I found downtown and let my finger trace the line that ran south and east around Lake Michigan. Each colored dot represented a local or express train station.

“Here's my plan,” I told her. “We'll take the next South Shore train, like you said, whatever comes first, and head into Indiana. If we move quickly, while Tinkerton and the cops are still streaming north, maybe we can slip through before they can close the net.”

“Makes sense.”

“Then stay close and keep quiet.” We walked up to the ticket window at the far end. “When's the next train to Kankakee?” I asked the bald-headed ticket agent.

“That would be the Illinois Central. One's leaving on Track Six in...” He squinted through his bifocals as his finger ran down the schedule. “I make it twelve minutes.”

“Two tickets, please,” I smiled and handed him two twenty dollar bills. Next to the window was a rack with Amtrak brochures. I pulled out the one for the trains headed east from Chicago and stuck that in my pocket. With the tickets in hand, I smiled at him again and pulled Sandy away.

“Kankakee?” she whispered, confused. “That's straight south. I thought you said you wanted to go east, to Indiana?”

“Later,” I answered as we walked to the far side of the cavernous waiting room. Sitting on a hard wooden bench, I saw pre-teen girl with blue jeans, a book bag, and a Cubs baseball hat on her head. Her eyes were closed. She had earphones in her ears and an iPod hanging around her neck. Her feet dancing to the music. I walked up to her with Sandy in tow and tapped her on the knee.

“Wow, a Cubs hat!” I said with a friendly grin as her eyes opened. “You know, I promised my girl friend here that I'd buy her one while we were in Chicago, but the store in the hotel was out and we've got to leave.”

“So?” the girl eyed me suspiciously.

“Twenty bucks. I'll buy it from you.”

Slowly, the girl took the hat off, examined it carefully, and looked back up at me as she considered the offer. “Fifty,” she countered.

“Fifty!” Sandy said. “For a lousy fifteen buck hat?”

The girl shrugged and put the hat back on her head. “I'm not the one with the promises, am I?” She answered with a knowing smile and eyes much older than her years.