“ I was discharged from the militia in the spring of ’02,” I answered, rolling a joint. We sat in the freight car of the train—just the two of us. Matt pressed on.“ Wounded?”I rolled up the sleeve of my shirt to reveal my shoulder. A year had passed since that gunshot wound in Afghanistan, but the scar still throbbed enough that I needed painkillers now and then. The doctor said it was a lifelong reminder.I lit the joint, inhaled deeply, and leaned my back against the steel wall. Every jolt of the train made the iron plates rattle. The first time I rode a train it felt as if my back and butt were being beaten, but I was used to it now.Matt hesitated a moment, then climbed onto my thigh. He sat so close it was as if he were straddling me. He leaned forward, fingertips tracing the scar on my shoulder. His eyes brimmed with curiosity—and something else. I turned to watch the landscape through the crack in the door.The thick steel door rattled on its latch, open about a hand’s width. Through the gap I saw the vast fields, stained a fiery red by the setting sun.I took another deep drag, feeling languid. Without warning, Matt seized the joint from my hand, inhaled, then exhaled a long stream of smoke into my face. His lips—full and red—curved sensually. He leaned in to kiss me.I turned my head away.“ We’re getting off soon.”Matt, still perched on my thigh, shifted his hips against me.“ Hurry up, then.”Instead of answering, I gripped his shoulder and pushed him off. He tried to resist but couldn’t match my strength; he tumbled backward, complaining loudly. I ignored him and crept toward the door.Every jolt of the train made the rattling door gap quiver, and through it the blurred landscape seemed smeared—perhaps the joint was kicking in. It was my first time on the Mimes run, but excitement eluded me. I just hoped the motel bed springs would hold up.As expected, we arrived at the station not long after. The sun had just set, and dusk lay heavy in all directions. I had only one large military duffel bag. Slung over my shoulder, I jumped from the freight car; my body ached. Together we left the station and headed straight to buy a used car. Matt owed me eight hundred dollars—he was nearly out of cash—so I kept the keys. I never intended to give him the keys anyway.Once we’d secured a decent car, I felt reassured. We ducked into a cheap diner for burgers. I wanted to hit the road immediately, but Matt protested that he was exhausted. After some back and forth, we agreed to spend one night in town. I guessed why he insisted, so when I bought cigarettes I also grabbed condoms. We stayed in a motel near the station.No sooner had we stepped out of the bathroom than Matt clung to me. I’d refused him once on the train, and I didn’t want his mood to sour again. I hoisted him onto the bed. Matt was about a hand shorter than me—slender, with supple flesh more like a woman’s, and pretty with rosy cheeks and lips. He had almost no beard, and yet, when I inspected him, I found he was well-endowed.We tumbled naked into the sheets. Matt naturally settled beneath me, looping his thighs around my waist. I straightened, lifted his legs off me, and mounted him. His eyes widened.“ Why?”“ I don’t do penetration,” I said slowly. Matt looked stunned.“ Really?”“ Yes.”I said tersely, then fitted a condom onto his erect length. Spreading my legs, I guided him into me, settling down slowly. During the deliberate thrusts, Matt closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure. Once I was all the way on, I sighed. Because I didn’t enjoy being on top, Matt rose and drove into me from below after a moment.He seemed thrilled by taking direction from someone much taller and more muscular. He thrust twice more without pause. My body, already sore from the freight-car ride, ached even more after sex. When we finished, I collapsed on the bed, utterly spent. I wanted to sleep, but Matt clung to my shoulder, suckling and whispering at the scar.“ I didn’t expect you to let me,” he said in a playful voice.“ You mean it wasn’t what you expected?”“ It’s not that. It was…good. Really.”He kissed my cheek and ear.“ I was just surprised, that’s all.”I nodded briefly and closed my eyes. I was tired. I wanted to sleep.The bed springs weren’t bad. I woke feeling remarkably refreshed. Matt slept soundly until I finished shaving. When I returned from the shower, he blinked awake. As soon as I sat on the bed, he clung to my arm, cooing that he wanted waffles smothered in jam and cream. I threw on clothes and we headed out.I didn’t dislike Matt. I’d met him only the night before. We’d both hopped freight cars for a bit of cash and a free ride. Matt was small but surprisingly strong, with a confidence that made a good first impression. We drank beer in the freight car all night, and every time the train stopped we’d step outside and piss into the darkness—and somehow that brought us closer.Matt had worked in Wyoming on a wind-turbine manufacturer’s promo team. “ I was caught sleeping with the boss’s wife—twins or triplets, I heard. Fired on the spot,” he shrugged. After getting fired, he blew all his money gambling at casinos until he was broke. With rumors swirling about his affair, he needed a fresh start—and a job, so he decided to try his luck with the Mimes, which is how we met.I didn’t believe most of his chatter, but one thing rang true: he was penniless. Otherwise, he seemed more bluff than threat—not a bad guy. So I invited him to join me in looking for work at Laverham. I was curious, and I needed company. And last night, it turned out—he was decent in bed. A few cheap waffles were no issue.Back at the café, Matt still lay naked on the bed when I returned with waffles smothered in jam and cream. I offered him one; he bit into it without hesitation, and a dollop of cream dripped onto his pale thigh. With cream smeared on his lips, he looked provocatively at me.“ Cream’s dripping.”It was morning, and he was half-erect. I slid off the bed, grabbed his ankles, and drew him toward me. I draped his legs over my shoulders and licked the cream from his smooth, well-kept thigh. As I pleasured him, Matt lay back eating waffle after waffle with cream-smudged hands, lazily running fingers through his hair. I felt a twinge of annoyance—but more that I wanted him to finish quickly so we could leave.When I flicked my tongue over his glans and sucked, he came, spilling into my mouth.“ Sorry,” he said without remorse. I spat the taste into a tissue. Matt, cheeks flushed, smiled at me and kissed my lips, tasting of jam and cream.“ Wash up. We need to hit the road early for Laverham—it’s your first time.”“ What about you?”He grasped my thigh without hesitation.“ You got hard too.”“ I’m fine. Let’s go, let’s go—long drive ahead.”Our departure was far from smooth. Matt moved sluggishly, unlike when we worked the freight car. I suspected he was deliberately dawdling, but I let him be. While he got ready, I tinkered with the used car we’d bought yesterday.I popped the hood to check the engine, inspected the tires, cleaned the glove box and floor mats, and opened the doors wide to air out the mustiness—smoking a cigarette in between. Finally, Matt appeared, sunglasses on, dragging his suitcase. By then it was eleven in the morning—much later than planned.We rolled onto a deserted country road with Ray Charles on the stereo. An endless ribbon of paved road cut through bare fields. To reach Laverham would take a full day’s drive—sixteen straight hours of driving between the two of us, assuming no wrong turns. There might have been shortcuts, but for a first trip we chose the easier route even if it was longer.Matt was never much of a partner—he’d forgotten he was supposed to swap driving shifts and downed vodka instead. Clumsy or not, at least he talked, so I never got bored.The upside: I was good with maps (military background), and I had the stamina for long drives (also military), and I didn’t need to chat (Matt more than handled that). The worry was whether Matt could handle the hard labor waiting for us at Laverham.We were headed to a forest retreat under construction at Laverham. They needed laborers living on-site for months, paying three to four thousand a week. Good pay—but grueling work. Matt seemed strong in words, but touching him last night showed me his hands were too soft for heavy labor.“ By the way, Ray, where are you from? You said the South, but your accent’s not quite right.”Matt, having run out of topics, blurted out the question. I answered candidly.“ California originally. I worked briefly as a forest ranger in Virginia during hunting season—but got fired.”Matt, with a cigarette wedged between his fingers, asked, “ How’d you hear about Mimes?”I inhaled smoke and replied, “ Met some hunters from Mimes back in Virginia. They said there might be work here.”“ So where’s home?”I stared at the open road and exhaled smoke slowly.“ Nowhere.”“ What do you mean, nowhere? Your address, I mean.”“ I have a falling-apart motel in Virginia listed as my address. Probably collapsed by now… I was the only guest.”I flicked ash out the window. Matt glanced at me, examining my face suspiciously. I gave him a crooked smile.“ What’s up? Want to get off the road and bail?”Matt fell silent, flipping me the bird, reclining and turning away as if sulking. To placate him I said, “ Don’t worry—if you want to stop, just say so.”His sulk deepened—he even closed his eyes. I laughed, flicked my cigarette butt out the window. The road lay empty except for us, the summer sun blazing overhead.Matt stayed sulking until he dozed off. I woke him just before four. We went in for a late lunch. The air-conditioned diner was pleasantly quiet, only a few loiterers. Matt refused to talk to me, flipping his phone open and shut while staring out the window. I wasn’t sure if he was still upset or half-asleep. In any case, cheering him up would be easy, so I didn’t worry. Instead, I struck up a conversation with the waitress.“ How much farther to Laverham?”She handed me the menu as she answered, “ Quite a way. Where in Laverham are you headed? If you get lost on those forest roads, you’ll be in trouble.”“ The new campgrounds… I’ll have a cheeseburger.”I handed back the menu. She lingered, leaning on the bar.“ Ah, the campgrounds—those are fine. There’s a drama shooting nearby, so lots of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° people around. No need to worry about getting lost.”“ What drama?”Matt chimed in, offering, “ And I’ll have the turkey sandwich.”She seemed to like Matt’s friendly face and smiled at him. “ Not sure—just started shooting. Many crew eat here before heading out.”She added proudly, “ I’ve seen a few actors, though I don’t know their names.”Since the diner was still slow, she stayed to chat. By the time Matt finished talking to her, he seemed cheered up. I didn’t interrupt and polished off my cheeseburger. If finding our way got easier, that was all the info I needed.When we left, Matt drove. I napped while he steered—we just had to follow the road. Near midnight, I took over as we entered the forest roads. Matt, exhausted after five or six hours, curled up in the back seat and slept soundly.With only my dim headlights to guide me, I checked the map and pressed into the forest. Hearing Matt’s light snores, I kept driving. As the waitress said, finding the camp was easy—fabric markers hung from tree branches like trail signs. We arrived sooner than expected. Just before two a.m., we pulled into the camp.The half-built campgrounds lay in gloom—unfinished log cabins and scattered building materials made it eerie. We wove between piles of lumber until we spotted a small lodging facing the woods. Its lights were off except for one glowing window. We’d arrived. I shook Matt awake in the back seat.The man on duty was half-asleep from the heat. There was no air conditioning, and the air inside was stifling. I knocked on the desk; he jolted awake, a scruffy, thick-nosed fellow with a wild beard and sweat-soaked armpit and chest hair—an unattractive sight.He rubbed his eyes with thick knuckles and asked in a gruff voice, “ You said Jerry sent you? Name is…?”“ Goodman.”“ Ah, Goodman. Goodman… Raymond Goodman, right?”“ Yes. Shall I show you the recommendation letter?”“ No need. Just your ID.”While we talked, Matt hung back at a distance. The man craned his neck to look at him.

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