Hobo Tough < iPhone >

They lay flat against the freezing floor, Artie using his own heavy wool coat to bridge the gap between them, sharing the meager warmth. He’d survived the Great Flood of '93 and the winter of '08 by knowing exactly how much a human body could take before it broke.

Artie’s hand, calloused and strong as a vice, clamped onto the kid’s shoulder. "Stay. If you jump now, the frost finishes what the fall starts. We’re ghosts, kid. Be the shadow." hobo tough

"How do you do it?" the kid asked. "How do you stay out here?" They lay flat against the freezing floor, Artie

Artie showed him the first rule of the rails: He helped the kid stuff the crumpled newsprint down his sleeves, into his boots, and layered against his chest. Paper trapped the air; air trapped the heat. Be the shadow

As the train crested the mountain pass, a "bull"—a private rail security guard—shined a high-powered spotlight into the car during a slow-down. The kid panicked, looking to jump.

He stepped off the grainer, his joints popping like dry kindling, and started walking toward the nearest treeline. He wasn't looking for a home; he was just looking for the next fire.