by Kody Boye
“You first,” he said, taking hold of the belt.
I pulled my eyes away from his well-muscled chest before stepping forward.
With the nerve any man could hope to muster, I maneuvered my foot over the wire, then straddled it before swinging my leg over. I repeated the same with Guy before he removed his shirt and freed his belt, pleased with the makeshift results.
“Guess this is the way we’ll do it,” he said.
I nodded before we continued on.
Guy determined that our path would be less likely detected if we’d followed an irregular pattern. Heading straight north would be the idiot’s approach—that getting as far away from a location as possible was what would ultimately prevent them from being captured. But heading east, Guy said, and then cutting north, would provide the advantage of the less-populated areas and the bare dirt roads that the elements would be swift to wipe clean. The only problem was, they also presented the danger of being discovered.
If they put our pictures on the news, he said, we’re fucked.
I took him for his word and decided to trust his opinion.
We passed a power plant and an array of lighting fixtures that initially unsettled me. While still hidden behind the thick cluster of trees, its light pierced through the darkness and offered clear sight of the surrounding area. Guy had been right. Going that way would’ve surely gotten us caught.
“Don’t look,” he whispered. “Keep going.”
I did as he asked and continued to follow him east.
I wasn’t sure how long we were walking. Between alternating through farmland and beneath trees, it was hard to tell whether or not we’d been going for minutes or hours. We crossed a huge cattle farm, which nearly sent me into hysterics when I bumped into a stray cow in the middle of the night, then had to head northeast when we caught sight of buildings in the foreseeable distance, but eventually we returned to the trees and my nerves once more died down.
When I felt as if I could go no more, I leaned against a tree and slid to the ground.
“Hey,” Guy said, crouching beside me. “You all right?”
“Tired,” I said, rolling my head and taking my deep breath.
He pressed a hand against my cheek and cupped the left half of my face, his touch comforting despite the irregular chill that permeated its surface.
“You’re weak,” I managed.
“Just as you are,” he replied, “but only in a different way.”
“I can’t keep going.”
“Neither can I, but it wouldn’t be smart to just stay out here in the open, now would it?”
I didn’t reply.
He turned his head and pointed east. “A ways beyond those trees,” he said, “there’s a community with I don’t know how many people. It’s too far away from a major highway for them to go there first, but that doesn’t mean any of the locals won’t be wandering the woods.”
“You really think any of them would bother us?”
“No, but it’s going to look awfully suspicious when they see two guys out in the middle of the woods without any camping gear, especially when my picture and the video of you going in and out of the convenience store comes out.”
“Shit,” I said.
“Shit is right.” Guy took my hand. “Besides—we’ve been lucky so far. I don’t want to risk it.”
“I know.”
“I’ll make it up to, Jason. I promise. We just need to go a little further so we’re a little ways from civilization.”
Who knew when that would be.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Someone had seen us.
He’d caught sight of us after we tried to sneak across a break in the trees on the outskirts of his property. Illuminated by the pale moonlight, and deathly close to his place of residence, it’d been a longshot to even think we could make it—but there we tried, like the desperate idiots we were.
The farmer—whom I supposed had to have been sitting on his back porch—stepped from the darkness with his rifle in his hand.
“I saw you out there,” he said, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots painfully obvious in the near-silence of the night. “Told you boys you can’t be on my property.”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” I whispered.
“Shh,” Guy said, clamping a hand over my mouth.
The man stepped into the moonlight and lifted his rifle. Unaware of our location, he trained it in the direction where he’d initially detected the sound—further southeast than where we currently stood.
“Dunno what you be doing out here,” the man continued on, “but this is private property, and I expect to be respected.”
Guy took hold of my hand. Tugging my wrist, he gestured to the flatter parts of the underbrush and started to pull me along.
“I’ll give you one last warning,” he said. “Get off my property now and I won’t—”
My foot snapped a twig.
Even the sound of my heart throbbing in my head wasn’t loud enough to compare to what came next.
A shot was fired.
Though I expected it to strike me, it didn’t, though I wasn’t sure where it went. Guy had already taken off into a full-out run and was tugging me directly behind him, our footfalls soft upon the fertile ground.
“Get out of here!” the man yelled. “Get out—”
Guy jerked me to the side just in time to avoid running directly into a very sour, very angry-looking bull.
I was always told not to look a bull in the eyes.
I did anyway.
It wouldn’t try and give chase, would it?
It did.
The metal fence that lined the property would be the only thing that would keep it in place if we were lucky enough to get past it.
The barbwire only lined the top, the links of the bottom in need of replacement.
“Go,” Guy said.
I needed no encouragement.
He threw the backpack over the fence.
I dove under the fence and rolled as though on fire just in time to see the bull collide with the fence, its gargantuan weight sending ripples along the barbwire coils
“Guy?” I asked. “Guy? Where are—”
A pair of hands ripped me to my feet and pushed me forward.
“Go,” Guy said.
I ran.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
We found the safest place possible after fleeing the property and crossing a dirt road.
From our place in a secluded thicket, we could see the beginnings of a rocky scar of land that extended into the foreseeable distance until its geography became too indistinguishable. Before that lay the bare-boned skeleton of a building whose time had come and gone. Masonry littered the ground alongside a road that might once have been used for construction purposes before the project had been abandoned. What remained of the early-morning moonlight flickered across a pool of water that had accumulated amidst it all.
“You think we’ll have to worry about that?” I asked.
Guy’s eyes shifted to the direction I was inquiring over. “No,” he said. “It looks dead. I doubt there’ll be people there.”
“I’m not just asking about people.”
His eyes fell on me. They looked tired—which wasn’t surprising, considering what we’d been through—but in their depths existed an unease I’d never seen from him.
“Guy?” I asked, unsure if he heard my question or if he’d even processed it.
“Nothing’s going to bother us,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“How can I—”
A third gaze silenced me.
Something about the way he looked—from his eyes, to his pale expression, down to the purse in his lips—made me realize that arguing would get me nowhere.
“I’m a light sleeper,” he said, as if to remedy his action. “If that makes you feel any better.”
“You think the farmer will call the cops?”
“‘Course he will. We ran h
is bull into the fence and most likely stirred up the whole herd. But don’t worry—we’ll be fine. We’re far enough away to where I doubt they’ll come looking, let alone find us.”
“You’re sure?”
Guy nodded.
I shook my head and patted the space beside me. “Come on.”
After crawling over, he settled down beside me, stretched out with one arm under his head and the other across my side, and spooned me against his body.
“We’ll leave in a few hours,” he whispered. “I’m tired of acting like vagrants. I’d much rather act like hitchhikers instead.”
I nodded.
The morning’s light had just begun.
Chapter Thirty
The morning came and went. There were no cops, was no sirens, no men in the bushes yelling at us to come out with our hands up, their guns drawn, the trigger-happy quick to mow us down in a rain of bullets. It appeared that our dog days were over, though I knew better than to jump to unlikely conclusions.
Disgruntled from a night of sleeping on the hard dirt ground, I rolled over in an attempt to adjust my posture and rammed my elbow into the exposed root of a tree.
“Ow,” I said.
“You okay?” Guy asked.
“Just the usual. Rough morning on this side of the law, you know?”
Guy lifted his head from his place near the high ground and frowned. The lines etched throughout his eyes told of a night spent with misery, a battle fought well but not valiant enough to avoid the discoloration that swamped his upper cheeks. My immediate response was to ask if he was okay, but he merely turned his head to survey the west before I could.
“Road’s been clear all morning,” Guy said, as if knowing I would listen even though we were off to a rough stop. “No cops at all.”
“Were there any helicopters?”
“Some passed over us last night. Thank God their spotlights were trained on another direction, otherwise we’d be screwed.”
My mouth parted in question. Guy lifted his hand and extended a finger to the far side of the canopy—where, no more than a few feet from where we’d slept, appeared a break in the trees, undetectable by the shadow of night.
“Shit,” I said. “We could’ve been fucked.”
“Which is why I think it’s important that we move as fast as possible.” Guy jumped down from his perch and crouched, offering a hand. “You ready to move on in a few minutes?”
“You sure it’s safe to walk along the roads?”
“At this point, I think anything is safer than dealing with farmers and their homicidal cows.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I mumbled.
Guy pulled a bag of potato chips out and tossed them at my chest. “Hey Jason,” he said. “How do you like your beef?”
“Ha ha,” I replied. “Very funny.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The agony wrought by the overhead sun was excruciating. Aided by the humidity, the heat almost reduced me to tears I felt would’ve dried anyway. We’d yet to see a truck pass and we’d been going for almost an hour. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
“Just keep going,” Guy said, pressing another bottle of water into my hand. “We’ll see someone soon.”
I doubted that.
The water was warm, the road was barren, the sun had no other wish than to slowly bake us to death—I mean, if I thought about it, the only thing that could have made this worse was the cops rolling up to offer us a ride to prison.
“Or the sun falling down,” I mumbled.
What could be worse than that?
The slight rumble at our feet should’ve given me indication that I was wrong—that I’d merely hastened the inevitable and instead summoned upon us worse luck. When I turned to find a truck barreling down the road, however, I sighed and cast my head back, nearly blinding myself when the sunlight stabbed into my eyes.
“Thank you,” I said. “God—whoever. Thank you!”
Guy merely chuckled and patted my back before lifting a hand to wave.
The truck slowed as it approached and came to a full halt beside the road. Its occupant—a lone black man with a pair of thick shades braced upon his nose—leaned across the length of the cab and knocked the door open before simply saying, “Get in.”
Guy and I were quick to oblige.
“What brings you fellas all the way out here?” the man asked as I closed the door and he pulled the truck into drive, cranking up and directing the air conditioning at the two of us. “Kinda hot to be going on a walk, ain’t it?”
“Kinda?” I laughed, leaning back in my seat. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“We’re heading to the Winters’ farmland,” Guy said. “We were on my way to see my father.”
“No shit? You the reverend’s kid?”
Reverend? I frowned. I hadn’t heard this part.
“Yes sir,” Guy said, clapping an arm across his back. “You know my father?”
“Well, no. Never met the man myself, but I’m… not one to judge.”
The act was terrifying in its subtlety. A clap across the back, a touch of the hand, the grace of a thumb upon one’s cheek—even casual contact could be used to the utmost advantage, which was why I’d initially been thrown off by the overly-friendly gesture. Now, however, I could see what he was going.
Guy didn’t want this man to know where we were going.
How he was going to impose such an impression when we’d yet to reach our destination was beyond me.
The touch was so brief it was hardly even noticed. The man just smiled and reached out to take Guy’s hand. “Alan,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Guy replied, nudging my ribs with his elbow.
I didn’t bother to reply.
The rolling hillscapes that came into view further north were breathtaking as much as they were terrifying. With the knowledge that we could’ve easily been climbing them in this hundred-and-five-degree heat, it was hard not to consider Alan an angel of mercy. His kind demeanor and vibrant smile spoke wonders of his personality. I was used to Texans helping their fellow man out, but Alan was something else. He even offered us cold water from his refrigerator unit in the back and declined our offer for trade.
“I’ve got more than enough back there,” he said as Guy returned to the front seat. “As your friend here has seen.”
Guy smirked. Alan’s bellowing, raucous laugh filled the cab and completely drowned out the sound of the radio.
It was a good time, for sure. The only thing that dampened my mood was that it made me realize how relieved I was to finally feel safe.
Guy appeared to take notice of my mood, but said nothing—likely to prevent suspicion and also to distract Alan when prompted. I couldn’t blame him. He was, after all, only concerned for our safety, but I wondered if he’d even taken into consideration how much of a shellshocker all this was for me.
I hated feeling like a spineless creature incapable of moving even an inch of its body.
Raising my head, I looked out at the open road.
What I saw was stupendous.
It summoned memories of a time and place far removed from our past. Immaculately-crafted, and stretched out along a finely-settled dirt road, the pristine heights of a white, two-storied home rose beyond a large fence that stretched for acres on end, on which many people toiled. They worked everything from the fields, to animal pens, to what looked like aviaries in the distance.
In a word, it was impressive.
“Woah,” I said.
“Woah is right,” Alan said. “You want me to pull up here, or—”
“Here’s fine,” Guy said.
The abrupt stop, coupled with what I’m sure was heat exhaustion and stupid awe, sent me rolling into the dash, smacking but not painfully clunking my head across its curved surface.
“Thanks for the ride,” Guy said, leaning over to push me toward the door while reaching back to shake the driver’s hand. �
��It’s much appreciated.”
“No need to thank me,” the man replied. “All in a day’s work.”
“And that’s all it was,” Guy continued when I popped the truck door open and hopped out. “Just a day’s work—nothing odd, nothing unusual.”
“Sure thing,” the man said.
No sooner had Guy slammed the door did the truck barrel up the road, leaving dust and bits of rock in its wake.
“How you feeling?” Guy asked as he took note of me rubbing my head.
“Fine,” I replied. “So what was all that about?”
“A bit of ‘Glamoring.’”
“Are we still calling it that?”
The taller man shrugged and slung the pack over his shoulder. “Well,” he said. “Shall we?”
We walked the short distance from where the truck driver had left us to a nondescript security fence. At the gate, Guy fingered the lock and ran his thumb over the latch that held it in place, but didn’t immediately open it, his eyes lost in thought.
“Guy?” I asked. “Are you sure everything’s—”
“I ran away from here, Jason.”
“What?”
Guy sighed, the shrug in his upper body enough to where it appeared his torso had been momentarily engaged in a tug-of-war. “It’s not like what you’re probably thinking,” he continued, turning his head to look at me. “I just… neglected my duties, I guess you could say.”
“Duties?”
“We’ll talk about it later. We’re still out on the road. Someone sees us here, they’ll be able to point the cops in a definite direction.”
He clipped the lock out of place and swung the gate open, not bothering for formalities, and simply walked in.
I was quick to follow, more than pleased to be at the back of it all.
Little attention was given to us from the workers beyond the precursory glance. Eyes set firmly on their work, they shucked corn and stooped to gather rooting vegetables from their beds just beneath the ground. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone—us walking along the road, they ignoring us as if we were phantoms spectral in the night. We probably would’ve made it all the way to the house without so much as a second glance until a woman tending horses at a stall nearby turned and stared.
