by A. American
“This is not my day!” Bob yelled, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.
The truck swerved hard left, then right.
Charlotte’s head smacked against the side of the door, waking her. She sat up as best she could considering her hands and feet were bound.
Bob was struggling to get the truck under control.
Charlotte didn’t know what was happening as she watched in fear as the truck surged hard left.
Bob lifted his foot off the accelerator to help slow the speed and gently tamped on the brakes.
Two abandoned cars sat on the road ahead, and with nature slowly retaking the road, it didn’t leave Bob with anywhere to go except in the ditch.
He cranked the wheel hard to the right, just avoiding one car only to have the right wheels slip into the ditch and clip a boulder.
The force from the impact only slowed them.
Feeling safe to hit the brakes fully, Bob pressed down hard until the truck came to a full stop.
Charlotte mumbled, but was unintelligible with the duct tape on her mouth.
“Damn!” Bob yelled. He looked at her and barked, “Just shut up.”
She did as he said.
He got out and began to look for any damage beyond the left rear tire, which had blown, sending them on a wild ride.
Charlotte sat and waited.
“Well, it all looks okay. I think all I need to do is put the spare on and we’ll be on the road again.” He looked in the bed but didn’t see the spare there, so he looked under the bed. Nothing there either. “Well, what do you know? No spare. Isn’t that a son of a bitch?”
Charlotte sighed when she heard the news. Anything that would slow their trip to Mexico gave her more time to escape. Next time she would just run, or that was what she told herself.
Bob looked at the two cars he had barely missed and surmised the small tires from the compact cars wouldn’t work.
Heavy steam suddenly appeared from under the hood.
Bob saw it and yelled, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He reached in the truck, popped the hood latch and opened the hood to discover a large dried timber had pierced the grill and a radiator hose. “Looks like we’re down for a bit until I can get it fixed.”
Charlotte mumbled loudly.
“What?”
She mumbled again.
Irritated, he reached in and forcefully yanked the tape from her mouth.
“Ouch!”
“What?”
“I have to pee.”
“Then go pee.”
She nodded to her legs and arms.
“Scoot over,” he ordered.
She did as he said and he untied her.
“Now don’t go acting stupid. I’m not in the mood.”
Charlotte was always thinking about hurting him and escaping, she just needed to prioritize the escape versus the hurt.
She slid out of the driver’s side, as the passenger door was blocked, and walked to the back and squatted to pee.
Bob looked at the damage then caught sight that the right front tire looked odd. He bent down and looked in the wheel well to discover the axle rod was snapped. “Fuck! That’s it. We’re screwed. It’s back to walking. We don’t have water, food, nothing, and now the truck is ruined. Shit!” He picked up a rock and threw it hard.
Charlotte finished and walked to the cab. She hid her joy at the news, knowing that could potentially enrage him. “What now?”
“We walk,” Bob said.
“But it’s—”
“Just shut your mouth. I’m in charge,” Bob said. He looked down the road to get his bearings and continued, “We’re getting close to the desert; see how the topography is changing. We definitely went quite a few miles. Luckily for us, it’s all downhill from here. There’s an old gas station at the base of the mountain near Ocotillo.”
“There won’t be anything there,” Charlotte said.
“I said shut your mouth,” Bob snapped, fully knowing she was right.
Charlotte folded her arms and stared at him.
“Those cars, we go check those cars for anything of value,” Bob said, pointing to the two compact cars.
“Okay,” Charlotte said as she turned and began to walk that way.
“Hold on. You’re coming with me, but there’s no way I’m letting you scavenge with me, I’m not stupid,” he said, getting the rope and tying her hands together but this time behind her back.
“Aren’t you going to put the tape on my mouth?” she quipped.
“You know I just might if you keep that mouth running.”
Charlotte smiled, she just couldn’t resist. She was a sassy tween girl with an attitude, but if she couldn’t get her anger in check, she just might end up dead.
El Centro, CA
Neal pulled everything he thought he could use out of his and Carlos’ houses. He stood and looked over the heap of things and wondered if his next move was the right one. He didn’t want to leave the home he had shared with Karen and Beth, but he couldn’t stay either. His life was over there, but where would he go was the question. Alaska came to mind, as that was the final destination the group had decided on, but was that where he wanted to go now?
He backed up and sat on the curb. His body ached and his legs were weak. Every hour that went by, he felt better, but he definitely wasn’t a hundred percent physically.
The sun had set over the mountains, and soon he’d be wrapped in the black of night. He couldn’t find it in him to sleep another night at the house, so his mind was set on that account.
Tired, he lay back on the cool cement and looked up. Where should I go? What would Karen want? he asked himself. His mind raced through destinations, and none felt right. He pressed his eyes closed and asked out loud, “Where do you want me to go, Karen? Where? Please tell me, give me a sign, something.”
Random images came, but he felt like he was forcing those, so he calmed his breathing and tried to meditate.
The random images of the mountains gave way to clear visions of a beach, palm fronds and the ocean. He struggled to find out specifically where that was. Frustrated, he opened his eyes and grumbled, “Where is that?”
Knowing he wouldn’t get the answer if he forced it, he again closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts.
The images of a beach and ocean again came, but they were brighter than before. He saw the ocean lapping the shores of the beach, and off in the distance he saw a sailboat.
He sat up and blurted out, “The sailboat. Is that what you want? That makes sense; you want me to go to the sailboat. You want me to find Kate and sail away.”
He stood up and began to prep for his impending departure. He had the clarity he needed; he was sure that this was it. He knew the journey would be dangerous, long, and he might never find Kate, but he had a purpose, he had something that gave him a reason to wake each day going forward.
The beam from his headlamp cast the bright LED light on his new mode of transportation, a Kona mountain bike. Attached to the rear spoke was the old baby trailer Beth rode in when she was a toddler. He’d use it now to tow all the food, water and gear he’d need for the trip. With few routes to take west, his plan had him going along Interstate 8 and traveling mostly at night. The initial miles west would be fairly easy, as he’d be riding along the flat desert; however, the mountains to the west would not be easy, so he calculated his trip would take longer just because of the terrain and his weakened condition. But did it matter when he got there? No, it didn’t, he just liked to have plans.
With the bike and trailer ready, he was ready to commit to his last act at the house.
He and Carlos had stockpiled gallons of gasoline in a shed off the back of Carlos’ house. Once again wrapping the bandanna around his face, he entered Carlos’s house. It swarmed with hordes of flies. They buzzed loudly and filled the windows. The large brown stains marking the dying place of his friends were covered in humming insects. He pulled the cap from one of the cans and
began to douse everything in both homes. He couldn’t quite peg why he thought it important to do so; he just didn’t want anyone to have anything from it or to enter and disrespect the things he and his family once cherished. Maybe it was the way those men had trashed Carlos’ house that he knew most people just didn’t care, so to leave it for others to ransack wasn’t an option. He had control over what happened to the stuff, and he was going to burn it all to the ground.
Maybe this exercise was more about cleansing rather than control. But did it matter? Not to Neal it didn’t.
He poured a trail of gasoline out to the center of the cul-de-sac and tossed the gas can. Knowing how volatile gasoline and the fumes could be, he stepped back to a safe distance. In his right hand Neal held a classic Zippo lighter that Carlos’ father had passed down. Carlos commented on it every time he proudly lit it to share a Cuban cigar with friends. Now Neal would use it one last time. He flicked it open and lit it. The orange flame danced to the subtle air movements. He watched and thought of those special moments with his friend. How they’d laughed and joked as well as shared moment’s only dear friends could. His thoughts then drifted to Karen and Beth and the memories this house held for them. He found himself going back and forth as to destroying the homes, but he just couldn’t imagine them rotting. No, he needed this. He needed to have a sense of control over this.
He tossed the lighter onto the trail of gasoline.
The second the Zippo landed, the trail of gas erupted.
Neal watched in amazement as the fiery trail split and went to both houses. When it entered the homes almost simultaneously, the houses roared to life in spectacular fashion. The fires quickly engulfed the homes with flames licking every crevice.
The heat that came from the homes was intense, forcing Neal to step back further. Unexpectedly flames jumped to the neighbor’s house next to Carlos’, and in seconds that house was on fire.
“Well, shit, isn’t that something.” Neal laughed as the house next to his caught fire too.
With four homes ablaze, Neal thought it best to leave. Not only would he draw attention to himself, he didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of an inferno.
He stepped on the bike and pedaled to the end of the street. He stopped and turned to see two more homes had caught. He chuckled and rode off singing an old Bloodhound Gang song.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.”
– Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Ocotillo, CA
Neal shoved the bicycle and cursed, “Argh, fuck!” He had ridden thirty, maybe forty miles, and just when he thought things were going well, he dozed off and crashed the bike. After picking himself up, he examined the bike and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it still operable. Nothing could be worse for him but to break the bike so many miles from San Diego.
The sun would be rising soon, and the last place he wanted to be was on the road in broad daylight, hiking in the heat.
A couple hundred yards on the right side of the interstate, he saw an outcropping of rocks. There he’d get good cover and shade. He could push the bike and the trailer that far and settle down for a good nap.
Neal swore the rock outcropping was a quarter mile away, but as he took each step, he realized he had sorely underestimated the distance. The desert had a way of fooling you.
“Damn,” he grunted. Tired and thirsty, he stopped and pulled a bottle of water from the trailer. Surprisingly the water was staying cool in the covered trailer.
“Hey you, mister!” a man hollered in the distance.
Neal turned quickly, spilling his water, and looked for the source of the voice.
“Mister, help!” the man hollered.
Untrusting of anyone, Neal dropped the water bottle and pulled out his Sig.
The man waved his arms and again cried out, “Please help. We’re hungry and thirsty.”
“We’re? Who’s with you?” Neal asked in reply to the man.
As if on cue, a young girl appeared from a culvert on the eastbound lanes.
“Don’t come any closer, please!” Neal ordered, still maintaining a bit of civility with his use of polite words.
They kept waving their arms and yelling, “Please help us, please!”
Neal kept his pistol at the ready but didn’t raise it. He stood his ground and waited.
The man and young girl kept walking towards him.
“Just hold it right there,” Neal ordered.
The man did as he was told and froze in his tracks. The girl two steps behind followed suit. They were fifty feet from Neal in the center of the highway’s median.
“Where you coming from?” Neal asked.
“West of here, near San Diego,” the man replied.
“This your daughter?” Neal asked.
The man looked at the girl and back to Neal. “Um, no, she’s a niece. She’s my niece.”
“Where you heading?” Neal asked.
“Mexico, but does it matter, mister? We need some food and water. Please help us,” the man pleaded.
The girl remained quiet, her head down.
“You…girl, what say you?” Neal asked, noticing she seemed distracted or adrift mentally.
“Huh?” she asked, lifting her head.
“Are you okay?” Neal asked.
The girl just stood there, her stare telling Neal she was not quite right.
“Answer him!” the man barked.
“I’m fine.”
“C’mon, mister, we need some help. Can you spare a bit of food and drink?” the man asked.
“Where are your weapons?” Neal asked.
“All I have is a pistol and a knife.”
“You’ll understand if I ask you to put your gun on the ground and step away from it.”
“I don’t think I can do that. I’m just as skeptical as you are of me but not too scared to ask for a bit of food and drink. If I put my only means of defense down, who says you don’t kill me and take the girl,” the man said.
“Then move on. I don’t have time to negotiate my safety with a stranger,” Neal said.
Recognizing Neal held all the cards, the man said, “How about this? You grab some food, lay it on the ground with a bottle of water, and go about your business? You move on and we go get what you left after you’re well clear of us.”
Neal thought about it. He couldn’t really spare any food or water considering his trip would now take longer. However, Karen’s voice rang in his head to help those in need.
“How about it?” the man asked.
Neal thought. He didn’t want to, but what would Karen do?
The girl wobbled and fell to her knees hard.
“Get up,” the man barked.
She tried to stand, but gravity and whatever ailed her took over. She fell onto her side and lay there.
Neal took a few steps towards them but hesitated when the man turned and grabbed the girl by the arm.
“Get up,” the man snapped.
“Ease up on her. She’s clearly worn out,” Neal said.
“You see, we need water and some food. It’s been days since we drank,” the man said and pulled the girl up.
“I’ll tell you what; I’ll leave some food and a couple bottles of water here.”
“Thank you.”
Without taking his eyes off the man, Neal reached into the trailer and pulled out several packets of tuna, a packet of saltines and two bottles of water. He set them on the ground and said, “Here you go. Now I suggest you get off the road before daylight hits. It’s safer to travel at night.”
“Um, I see you’re heading west,” the man suggested.
“Maybe.”
“Hey, I don’t give a hoot where you’re going; just giving you a heads-up is all.”
“Why?”
“Well, if you’re going past the casino, I’d take a different route,” the man warned.
“A
nd why?”
“The feds have roadblocks and a camp near there.”
“And?”
“It just doesn’t look too safe around there. If you have another route, I’d take it,” the man said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Neal said as he holstered his pistol and began his trek towards the rock outcropping.
Neal kept a careful eye on the two strangers. He watched them cross the road after he was well past. They dove into the food and ate ravenously.
He was cautious, but if there was a God, and needless to say he was having his doubts, his actions today would go a long way to helping him get past the pearly gates when it was his time. He already had to ration his food, but knowing Karen was looking down on him with pride helped make the decision easier.
He finally reached the safety of the rocks and set up camp under a large overhang. He inspected the spot for rattlesnakes or any other critters and laid out a tarp and put down his sleeping bag.
Like stray dogs, the two strangers headed towards him. He just hoped they weren’t the feral type.
“Stop right there,” Neal ordered.
Like before, they stopped.
“I wanted to thank you,” the man said.
“Thank you,” the girl said in her timid voice.
“You’re welcome. Now move on. I did my nice deed for today.”
“We thought maybe we could share some conversation,” the man said.
Neal didn’t like the situation and said, “No, now move on.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” the man barked.
“Jerk? I gave you some food and water, and now all I ask for in return is some privacy,” Neal insisted.
“Well, you don’t own the world. We’re going to set up over here,” the man said as he and the girl marched towards another outcropping of boulders some twenty feet from Neal.
