grand entrance

Midnight.
Moonlight made the steel look molten, like it was hot and fresh from the blacksmith's forge. It danced on the tops of the parallel tracks. Some tracks ran off to infinity. Others swept right or left in beautiful radii off the main lines, then wove together again, eight becoming four, four becoming two. A dance of geometry.
It was quiet, save for a diesel rumble one hundred cars away. Then the boxes began to lurch and jerk, the couplings grabbing and releasing, the wheels grinding against the tracks.
Mookie threw his pack onto the floor boards and pulled himself up into the empty car as it crept and squealed. He rolled onto his back, lifted himself up on his elbows, and peered into the black recesses of the freight car. A huddle of beings was barely visible against the back wall. He reached into the pocket of his frayed denim jacket and pulled out the pack of matches.
When he struck the match it took a second to flare to life. When it settled, and the flame took shape and danced, Mookie saw the wretched family of six piled together in the corner. He noticed that they had neither blankets, nor packs, nor a pot nor a pan. He could see the deep hollows in their cheeks. They appeared more shadow then solid.
"Howdy," he said.
There was no reply.
"Shit," Mookie whispered to himself. "Well, I reckon this is gonna be a long God damned ride."