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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Happy Harry Last of the Hoboes 4 (MF, slow, sci-fi)
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Date: Fri, 02 Jun 2006 19:10:02 -0400
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I'd like to thank Drahkan for all of his hard work in editing this story.

Lazlo Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac
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<1st attachment, "caboose-04.txt" begin>

Happy Harry: The Last of The Hoboes
Chapter 4
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2006

Officer Joe Morrison, seated on a cinderblock beside the fire pit of 
the homeless hotel, scratched under his armpit. After staying there 
for twenty hours, he was convinced that some biting thing had 
taken up residency inside his clothes with him. He looked over at 
the showers thinking that he'd love to spend twenty minutes under 
the water.

Slim, the care taker of the Homeless Hotel, sat down next to him 
and asked, "So how's it going Blue Jay?"

"Why do you guys call me Blue Jay?" Joe asked getting irritated 
by the name.

"A Blue Jay is a rather irritating bird. Squawks a lot and chases off 
the other birds. It's a blue bird. It reminds us of cops," Slim 
answered with a smile. He looked over at Joe to see how he took 
the explanation. 

"An irritating bird? Surely, we aren't that bad," Joe said feeling 
defensive. His cover had been blown within three minutes of 
arriving at the Homeless Hotel. He'd been shocked when a third of 
the men had known his name and badge number. Keeping up the 
pretense would have been stupid, so he didn't deny it. His role 
wasn't to police the place, but to protect them from individuals 
who meant them harm.

"Well, you guys tend not to see us as people. You chase us off 
about the time we find a place to sleep. You're always making us 
move so that the fine upright taxpaying citizens don't have to see 
us. Yeah, I'd say that you guys are a little irritating," Slim 
answered. 

The past twenty hours had been surprising for Joe. He had 
expected that most of the homeless would avoid him on general 
principles, but they hadn't. Knowing that he was actually there to 
protect them had tempered their normal distrust a little. The stories 
he'd heard about how different people had ended up in the street 
had tugged at his heart. Some of them were so unbelievable that he 
wasn't sure they could be true. He said, "Well, it is not so much 
the person as the appearance. Dirty and slovenly tends to be 
frowned upon by people who work."

"A lot of us work," Slim said.

"Day labor?" 

"No. We work as salves to guilty consciences. Some guy who just 
ripped off a thousand dollars on some dirty deal hands us a quarter 
and feels all better about himself," Slim said. There was a certain 
amount of bitterness in his voice that suggested there was more to 
the story than he was telling.

"That's not true. People who give change to homeless just want to 
help," Slim said.

"Yes, it is true. I used to be one of those bastards who was always 
ripping people off. I used to give out change to bums like you'd 
give candy to kids on Halloween. Then one day, my scheme fell 
through, I went to prison, and then I ended up out here on the 
street."

"You've been in the big house?"

"Yeah. Now I run a homeless hotel," Slim answered. He had a few 
tattoos from his stint in prison. He stood with a groan and said, 
"Better get the stuff out to feed the folks before they get testy."

Joe was looking forward to breakfast. After all he had earned it. 
Slim wouldn't let him eat without working for his food. He'd spent 
a good percentage of the day picking up around the Homeless 
Hotel to earn dinner and breakfast. At least he didn't have to work 
for the coffee.

Men were starting to line up in front of the food shack in 
anticipation of Slim opening it. Joe stood and stretched. A large 
Roach Coach moving down the street caught his attention. 
Smiling, he realized that it meant Happy Harry was stopping by. 
Rather than walk to the food shack, he changed directions and 
headed to where Harry would park.

Harry was singing a song while he whipped the Roach Coach into 
the open area of the Homeless Hotel. Ling was looking a little 
green around the edges. Her knuckles were white from gripping 
the arm rest so hard. When Harry came to a stop, she said, "I think 
I'm dizzy."

Harry laughed and said, "That's all part of my seduction scheme. I 
get you so dizzy that you don't know which way is up and then I 
put the move on you."

"Harry, you are a real piece of work."

Pointing over his shoulder, he said, "Why don't you check out that 
building across the street? I came here first because it is set up just 
like the spot yesterday."

Ling looked around the area noticing that Harry was right. She 
slipped out of the Roach Coach and headed across the street. Harry 
stepped out and looked around. Spotting the haggard looking 
police officer dressed in rags, he headed over to talk to him. He 
greeted the policeman, "Hello Blue Jay."

"How'd you know they are calling me Blue Jay?" Joe asked.

"They call all cops that," Harry answered with a grin. He looked 
around for a moment and said, "Kind of like how most cops call all 
of my folk street trash."

"Point taken," Joe admitted. He had changed his mind about the 
people to a significant degree. He had come to understand why 
Harry had thrown his partner against the wall. He was sure that his 
partner had probably come to the same understanding.

"So how were things around here?"

"Quiet," Joe answered. At least it had been quiet until it was time 
to sleep. He couldn't believe how loud some of the men snored. It 
had kept him up half of the night. The uncomfortable section of 
sewer pipe that served as his bed had kept him up the rest of the 
night. It was hard to believe that most of the men appreciated 
staying there. 

"How'd you sleep?"

"Didn't sleep much," Joe admitted. He ran a hand over his rough 
beard and wished that he had a razor and a toothbrush. 

"You'll sleep better tonight, I'm sure." Harry laughed at the look 
of despair on Joe's face and looked around at the men gathered at 
the food shack. Winking, he said, "It's easy to sleep when you get 
tired enough."

Some sixth sense caused Joe to turn and examine a man who was 
shuffling by the Roach Coach. There was something wrong about 
the man, but he couldn't put his finger on it right away. He asked, 
"Do you know that guy?"

Harry turned and looked at the man Joe was pointing at. The man's 
face was sweaty and he was dressed in clothes that weren't quite 
right for the street. He was mumbling something to himself in a 
language he couldn't understand.  Harry looked at the direction the 
man was headed and shouted, "Bomber!"

To Joe, it seemed as if time had slowed down and the world was 
moving in slow motion. He watched Happy Harry take off towards 
the man. The homeless slowly turned to watch what was 
happening behind them with looks of fear on their faces as Harry's 
warning registered. Joe stood up, feeling that he was moving too 
slowly. Harry grabbed the man and carried him into the open door 
of the Roach Coach. There was a loud explosion and Joe could see 
a piece of shrapnel headed towards him. 

Even as the shrapnel hit him, the blast struck him. Joe flew 
backwards from the blast. The majority of the blast energy had 
been directed out the open door. Even as he flew backwards, he 
could see the homeless standing frozen in place. Their faces turned 
to horror at the realization that Harry had been blown up saving 
them. Joe lost consciousness about the time he bounced off the 
ground for the second time.

Across the street, Ling had just finished tapping the sniper on the 
back of the neck. He was out cold. Looking out the window, she 
was just in time to see Harry carry the man into the Roach Coach. 
Shaking her head in dismay at the violence of it all, she asked, 
"How did William know?"

Working quickly, she stripped the assassin removing an explosive 
vest as well as his clothes. She tied him in place and squatted 
nearby to wait for him to revive. She knew there hadn't been 
anything she could have done to save Harry, but there was a lot she 
could do to avenge him. She unpacked a pad of paper and pen from 
her purse and waited with calm assurance that she would learn 
everything that the man knew.

After twenty minutes of waiting, there was a sound behind her. She 
turned her head to check it out. Jimmy Lee, wearing a red robe, 
was standing behind her. He looked at the scene before him and 
said, "Close the window. You don't want people to hear his 
screams."

"Right."

"Let me know what you find out," Jimmy Lee said as he glared at 
the man on the ground. As he reached the door, he said, "I'll 
suggest to the police that they check out this building in about six 
hours. That should be time enough for you."

"Thanks," Ling said and turned back to stare at the piece of filth on 
the floor. Shaking her head, she asked, "Why would they kill the 
sweetest guy in the world?"

"Evil," Jimmy Lee answered. He knew that he should probably 
keep Ling from doing what she was about to do, but he just 
couldn't do it. He said, "Don't take his evil into yourself."

"I won't," Ling replied even as Jimmy Lee left the room. 
Considering his advice, she got up and closed the window. She 
returned to where she had been and squatted. She hugged her legs 
with her arms and rested her chin on her knees. It was a position 
that she hadn't adopted since she was a child.

The time passed slowly. She thought about what she wanted to do 
to the man. She thought about Happy Harry and what he would 
want her to do. There were all kinds of ways to break a man and 
Ling knew most of them. Some were painful while others required 
tricking the mind into believing the worst. Despite her desire to 
inflict pain, she knew it was wrong.

It took Ling less than two minutes to break the man once he 
regained consciousness. Using one of the most successful 
interrogation techniques ever invented, she had him telling her 
everything that he knew. She even had to slow him down so that 
she could write everything down.

It was a sad twisted tale of evil perpetrated by a small isolated 
group of Islamic terrorists. They had wanted to kill Harry in 
revenge for all the terrorists who had been killed by the Druids. 
They believed that killing infidels was Allah's work, but allowing 
infidels to kill the warriors of Allah was an act of evil. Those who 
killed warriors of Allah had to be punished. They had selected 
Harry as their target because they believed he was the most 
popular Druid of them all. His death would serve as the first of 
many punishments to come.

Once she was done with him, she left him tied up on the floor. Five 
hours of lying there before the police came over to check out the 
building would be good for him. Looking down at him, she said, 
"You are nothing but a piece of shit on the bottom of my shoe."

Walking across the street, she slipped beside Jimmy Lee and 
handed him the four sheets of paper she had filled out. He looked 
at it and then at her surprised at how little time it had required to 
learn that much material. Not really wanting to know the answer, 
he asked, "Is he still alive?"

"Alive and healthy," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. 

"Healthy?"

"Not a cut or a bruise on him. Harry wouldn't have appreciated me 
doing that to another human being," she said. She looked over at 
the Roach Coach and took in the damage. A wave of sadness 
washed over her as she allowed herself to accept the reality of the 
situation. In a soft voice, she said, "He's really gone."

"Yes, he is."

Almost near tears, she said, "There aren't any more Hoboes. I find 
that so sad."

One of the homeless men, stumbling around in shock and with 
tears flowing freely from his eyes, approached Ling and said, "He 
died to save us. Can you imagine that? He died to protect us. Even 
my parents wouldn't have died to save me. No one else in the 
world would have died to save me, but he did."

Pointing to a television crew, Ling said, "Tell them. They need to 
know."

The man wandered in the general direction of the camera. Ling 
watched him go and thought about how sad it was that a person 
could grow up believing that their parents wouldn't die to save 
their life. She knew her children would never be able to say that 
about her or her spouses. 

As if reading her thoughts, Jimmy Lee said, "And your kids would 
give their lives to save you."

In a very soft voice, a humbled Ling said, "I know." 

Late that night, the remains of Happy Harry were loaded into an 
antique caboose under the watchful eyes of William Redman 
Carter. A picture of a hobo with a bindle stick was painted on each 
side of caboose. Black cloth was draped across the rear. It was the 
last car of a very short train comprised of the engine, an antique 
passenger car, and the caboose. 

A half hour after sunrise, the train pulled out of the station. Hoards 
of homeless, prostitutes, and people touched by Harry lined the 
tracks to watch the train carry his body away. It was a solemn 
crowd that didn't stir. Even babies didn't scream. People stood 
with bowed heads and hands clasped in front of their bodies. Tears 
were evident in quite a few of the faces. 

From Los Angeles, the train crossed the southern part of the 
country, then went up the east coast, and finally turned west across 
the northern part of the country. Every city of substantial size was 
visited by the train. 

Crowds lined the railway tracks to see it and pay their last respects 
to Happy Harry. Local television stations broadcast the train's 
passage on the nightly news. There was not much to see except for 
the antique cars rocking from side to side as they moved down the 
track.

The trip through Washington D.C. had men of power standing 
elbow to elbow with the homeless and poor. The poor would not 
move aside even for the President. As one of the people waiting for 
the train to pass said to a Secret Service Agent, "Happy Harry said 
that no man is more important than another. If the President wishes 
to honor Happy Harry, then he can stand in line like me."

As if to emphasize the equality of all people, Druids lined the 
tracks like everyone else. They shared food and drink with those 
who waited. The train did not stop for special guests to board and 
pay their last respects. The trip was not entirely about those who 
stood by to give their respects to a man who had given of himself. 
Happy Harry was the last of the Hoboes and he was taking his final 
train ride across the country. 

An hour before sunset on the third day of the tour, the train backed 
off the main track onto a small feeder rail just outside the Union 
Pacific switching yards in North Platte, Nebraska. The caboose 
was disconnected and the rest of the train pulled away. As the 
minutes passed, the sounds of nature returned to the area. 

A small group of five Druids stepped up to the caboose. Among 
their number were the Grand Druid and the heads of those who 
served the Goddess, the God, and the Two-Sided One. The fifth 
Druid in attendance was the Mistress of Rites. She carried a small 
torch which burned brightly as the day came to an end.

In a magic moment, all of nature quieted as if giving a minute of 
silence in honor of the deceased. The woman stepped forward and 
lit the caboose on fire. Stepping back, she said, "Fare Thee Well, 
Happy Harry."

The five Druids watched the caboose burn to the ground. Ed 
Biggers would later say that a flame in the form of Harry looked 
out at the gathered Druids and winked at him. It was well after 
dawn before the fire finally went out. Even in death, Harry had 
kept the dark away.

At the same time as the funeral fire was started, unveilings were 
taking place at Homeless Hotels across the country. The unveiling 
revealed a life size statue of Happy Harry. It was positioned so that 
he looked across the public area where people gathered. The statue 
was complete with his robe blowing in a breeze, his hooked staff, 
the small scar across his forehead, and the wry grin on his face. 
Looking at it made one feel protected in some small measure.

The caretakers of the Homeless Hotels announced that they were to 
read a letter written by Happy Harry for those gathered together in 
that place. A copy of the letter was engraved on the base of the 
statue. People crowded together to hear the last words to them by 
Happy Harry. With broken voices, the caretakers read,

It was with mixed emotions that I learned of my pending demise. 
On one hand, I am afraid of facing that great unknown into which 
all of us must one day venture. On the other hand, I feel blessed 
that I have been given this chance to say farewell to all of the 
people who mean the most to me. 

For those of you who have been through a homeless hotel; has 
fought back from hard luck; or has taken a moment to help another 
who is less fortunate, I want you to know that it is you who means 
the most to me. I've lived my whole life in your company. We've 
shared bread, booze, and stories over the fire. I know your 
character and you know mine.

You are my family and I love my family. My family includes poor 
men and women who have no home, people who sell their bodies 
for food and shelter, and individuals driven by alcohol or drug 
dependencies. I am not embarrassed by the trials and tribulations 
that members of my family have suffered. I'm proud of the fact 
that every morning you wake and face the world. 

I know that many of you have looked to me for advice. With my 
passing, you may feel as if I have abandoned you. It is not by my 
choice, but the sad fact is that I will not be there for you. That I 
will not be there for you hurts me more than you may believe. If I 
had to give you one final word of advice, it would be -- do not 
despair. There are many who are far wiser than I could ever dream 
of being. They are available to provide guidance in my absence.

Seek out those who give you the tough choices. Listen to those 
who tell it straight with statements like if you continue doing as 
you have done then you will die. They are honest and want the best 
for you. Shun those who pander to your weaknesses and provide 
you with excuses for your failures. Kind words spoken to avoid 
offense will not help you and can, in fact, kill you. Run as fast as 
you can from those who will do the work for you rather than allow 
you to learn how to work for yourself. Those people want to 
enslave you!

It is time for me to say farewell. I hope that you will remember me 
with fondness. Remember always that you were my family.

Happy Harry

Few who heard the words were left untouched. Many had felt 
abandoned by Harry. His concern that they would feel that way 
helped them to deal with their feelings. His advice helped stave off 
despair. Men and women who owned nothing more than what 
could be carried in a shopping cart stood tall like kings upon 
hearing that Harry was proud of them and considered them family.

In a spontaneous demonstration of their affection, the people at the 
Homeless Hotels broke into song. Some places sang the song, 
"I've been working on the railroad." Others sang "Amazing 
Grace." In a few places, the people sang the gospel, "Rock of 
Ages." Harry loved songs and would have been pleased with any 
song sung in his honor.

In a Homeless Hotel in Chicago, Amy stood in front of the statue 
of Happy Harry weeping after reading aloud the letter he had 
written to the homeless. One person after another came forward 
and hugged her. They understood her emotions.

Each knew that Happy Harry had declared her his successor. To a 
person, they were proud that it was their Amy who was to continue 
Harry's work.  It was the California Kid who finally said what was 
on the mind of everyone there. "Miss Amy. Who better to carry on 
for Harry but an Angel? You are the Angel of Chicago. Now you'll 
become the Angel of Us All."

In a small park in Pennsylvania, a group of homeless gathered 
together to honor Happy Harry. Joining the regular residents of the 
park was William, Lucy, and Jan. Each person took a turn in 
telling a Happy Harry story. Some of the stories were touching 
testimonials to his efforts to help others. Other stories were 
humorous examples of his humanity. There were tears and laughs 
as appropriate. 

When it was Lucy's turn, she told about how he had reintroduced 
her to the joys of soft ice cream on the first night she had met him. 
That meeting had set the tone of their relationship. Every time they 
met, he showed her something that she already knew and taught 
her a new appreciation for it. Tears ran down her cheeks as she told 
the story.

William was the last to speak. He stood and didn't say anything for 
a long time. His story was short, one sentence in length. "Happy 
Harry once said that I was the son he never had."
<1st attachment end>


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