by M. Garnet
“There is a lot they can do to me and make me do. Unless I say the word Ma belle like in the song, you can’t, must not trust me. That will be our good code word. If I meet you anywhere and don’t say that first, run from me, hide from me. I could hurt you. I could even kill you. It won’t be because I want to, but because of what they have done to me to control me. Do you understand?”
I nodded my head.
“Michelle, I am serious. Do you believe me?”
I choked and couldn’t say anything, but I nodded my head yes. I didn’t believe that he would ever hurt me, but now had they found us. Black helicopters in the sky were kind of scary. They were making anything believable.
Then, the traffic came to a stop. Even though I couldn’t see over the farm truck, I knew that there had to be a traffic light.
Tim leaned over, took my hair, and pulled me to him for a hard kiss. He pulled his sunglasses off and looked deeply at me. It was what I needed, one more look into those dark eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
My Parting
“Remember, Ma belle. Now, go.”
He pushed me back. I knew that if I didn’t move immediately, I would not move at all. I opened the car door. With my backpack hanging down in one hand, I went in front of our car and stepped to the truck. I threw the backpack up, then realized Tim had pulled up against my legs. I used the front of the car to push up, then rolled into the truck.
I pushed up to a sitting position so I could slide back between the boxes, but face Tim as he sat behind the steering wheel. I wondered if any of the cars beside us had seen me, but I couldn’t worry about it now. I saw that Tim had a turn signal on to go into the other lane. I didn’t want the car behind to see me so I ducked down. I pushed a box over so that I could sit behind it.
The truck started up, but the traffic moved slowly with the congestion continuing to tie all the vehicles into a crawl. Finally, after a few miles, the traffic thinned out and we picked up speed. Tim had made it into the other lane so he was out of sight around the truck.
The truck was slower, so most of the cars worked their way around us, but I stayed low behind the boxes. I heard the helicopter go over two more times, then it was gone.
The highway was smooth, but the back of the truck was rough riding. I found some folded cardboard and pulled it together to make a better seat. It must have been about a half hour later when we slowed down again. The truck and other vehicles around us pulled over for a minute as an ambulance and a fire truck came rushing through, lights and sirens blaring.
The movement was slower with everyone bunched up. We pulled over again as a couple of state trooper cars went by, lights and sirens also on full blast. From then on, it was stop, creep along, then go. There was a station wagon behind us with what looked like a Hispanic family, probably migrant workers, with kids all piled in. They had lots of boxes tied to the roof.
One of the kids spotted me. He leaned forward to wave. I thought it would look better to wave back, so I gave a big smile with a wave. I sat with my chin propped on the box.
Our movement was very slow. We were all forced over to the inside lane so I figured that there must be some type of accident in the road.
I could only see what was behind us, so as we made our slow progress, I watched the faces in the car behind as everyone looked over the passenger side at what was on the road.
Then, I saw the first flares stuck in the road giving off the orange brilliance filling the air with the funny smoke. A couple of troopers with orange vests came into my view, directing the traffic to the inside lane. There were several trooper cars followed next by a fire truck and then the ambulance. At this point, there were a lot of official people. The trucks blocked any view of what was going on so we were completely past the scene before I saw first, the helicopter parked in a field and then the car, upside down below the highway.
It had rolled over several times, and as a result, it was crumpled and all the glass from the windows littered along its path. It had caught on fire, but the fire department or someone had put the fire out. There was only a small amount of smoke.
For all the damage, though, the car was still recognizable. It was a Lincoln Town Car. I almost stood up, but as luck would have it, the truck sped up. I was so shocked that my legs wouldn’t hold me. I did lean forward, looking for a tall man with sun-streaked hair. I didn’t catch a glimpse of Tim Myers. I did see several Suits and a couple of men in black fatigues with guns, wearing dark sunglasses.
I sprawled back down on the truck bed, trying to get air into my lungs. I tried to quiet my heart. Could anyone have lived through that crash? Where was Tim, in the ambulance, the helicopter or dead in the car?
What should I do now? What had Tim told me to do? I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I am sure I was just staying on my back, getting bounced around by the truck, trying to get my mind around what I had seen.
At last, the fact that the truck slowed down as it made a turn off the road finally shook my brain awake. I sat back up so I could look over the boxes. I could see the main highway behind us, but we were still on a busy road. It had four lanes at the turn off, but was now two lanes, but not much traffic.
I pulled out my watch and put it on.
After about an hour, we came to a small town. I saw only the back of the town’s name sign so I didn’t know exactly where we were. When the truck pulled into a large chain gas station, I decided it was time to slip away.
I peeked around to see that the driver was filling the tank from the driver’s side so I dropped down. I walked away from the passenger’s side. I went into the roomy store and looked around to find the bathroom.
I took my time cleaning myself up, then used the facilities. I took some time to check my money. I folded it up properly. I put each stack back where I had originally hidden it. I changed from my skirt into a pair of jeans. Finally, feeling like I could face the world, I went back into the store.
As usual, with this type of place, no one paid any attention to me. I picked up a bottle of Gatorade along with two bottles of water and some trail mix. I added a couple of health bars, then a couple of regular candy bars just for the sugar. When I went to pay, they had a small basket on the counter with apples. I took one and added it to my supply.
The clerk was busy with his iPod so I didn’t bother asking him any questions. I just took my plastic bag with my backpack and went outside. They had a picnic table set up under a tree so I walked over. I sat down and took my time to eat the apple. I drank from one of the bottles of water. I knew I was still in some type of shock, my brain not really on full action yet.
A truck pulled in with several young men in the back. They looked like farm workers that weren’t the rowdy type of teens. They split up, some to the store, a couple to smoke. Inside the store, I could see a couple heading to the bathroom.
I sat, taking my time putting my items from the plastic bag into my backpack, warily watching out of the corner of my eye. Two of the guys came out, and, nudging each other, came over to sit at the other end of the table. It did not take them long to hit on me. I smiled and kidded along for a short time because I need information.
“So you guys are big time players. Okay, tell me, where is the closest Grey Hound bus station?”
There was a lot of guessing back and forth, then they called in another guy. There was a lot of discussion as to whether it was better to go back to Stanton or go on to Bisbain. This was good enough for me. It gave me two directions to head for so I could have a choice. Of course, the next problem was turning down the offer of a ride from the guys. It probably would have been reasonably safe, maybe even safer than hitching, which was what I intended to do. However, even though the guys seemed nice and friendly, I didn’t like the odds. I needed to take my chance with one guy, not several.
Finally, the driver was ready to go. He started the truck and let out a beep. The gang loaded in and waved as they left. I settled my backpack bet
ween my shoulders. I started down the road in the opposite direction. I walked for an hour, not looking for any ride, still in a daze. I came into the outskirts of a small town on a crossroad. I took the turn toward the main part of town, which the sign said was Paxton.
I passed a small used-car lot and stopped to retie my shoe. I set my backpack down against the front of a small truck in the front of the lot that had several older cars with lots of For Sale signs painted in white on the windows. The truck had a sign that said For Sale $900.
I looked at it for a long time. I picked up my backpack, gripping it as I slowly walked around the truck. I didn’t know a lot about used vehicles, but the tires still had tread and the body didn’t have any rust. The paint job was old, so it probably was the original. I finally drew the attention of a man with a potbelly, but, thank goodness he did not have a cigar.
I had a little over five thousand dollars scattered over my body. I hadn’t thought about stealing a car as I didn’t know how to hot wire or start one without keys, but I was wondering what it would take to buy one, besides $900 in cash.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
Hey, he was doing better and better, he didn’t call me little lady.
“Yes, be honest and tell me what is wrong with this truck?”
He looked at me for a second, then he broke into a good laugh.
“You know, I don’t think in all my years selling cars, no one has ever come right out and asked me that question.” He chuckled some more. “It will give me something to share with my wife over supper.”
He placed his hand on the hood of the truck. “It deserves an honest answer. First, it is a V-eight automatic. If you don’t know what that means, you don’t have to shift, but you have to put the high-octane gas in it. It uses a lot of gas so it likes the gas stations. That’s why the guys around here won’t buy it these days. You should change the oil more often in it also. Because of its age, I’m not going to give any warrantee, but I will say it is in pretty good shape. You should go a decent distance, depending on how you treat it.”
He patted the hood and I noticed the insignia of Ford on the front. “Can I get in it and start it up?”
“Sure, step up in it while I go get the keys.” He opened the door for me, then without waiting, headed for the office. The inside was clean. The seat was a bench seat, so I put my backpack beside me, reached down to adjust the seat, and felt the whole seat move forward. The rubber floor mats had some wear, especially under the gas pedal, but I would guess that the long-time owner had not been a smoker.
“Here we go, Miss. By the way, my name is Hutch.” He pointed to the sign that said Hutch’s Used Cars. “I brought a temporary license in case you want to take it for a spin.”
I put the key in, made sure the car was in neutral, and started the engine. The truck did not sound too bad, but again, what did I know? Hutch was busy attaching the license. I turned the key off to get out of the truck. Hutch looked at me with a question on his face.
“Is there a problem?”
I looked at him with a smile. “Not with the truck. With me, can we talk in your office?”
He looked a little taken aback for a second, but then nodded. I followed him back to the little trailer that served as his office and restroom area. It, too, was clean and neat, with a nice area for customers to sit in an air-conditioned room.
“Hutch, I have a problem. I don’t want it to be yours. First of all, I have never bought a car before, so I don’t know what is involved. I have fifteen hundred on me, so I can buy the truck for cash. I will still have enough for gas to get to my mom’s. The problem is my boyfriend. I told him that the last time he hit me would be the last time he would see me. He got drunk and hit me one more time. I waited until he went to sleep. I took my money I had hidden away and I started hitch hiking.”
Hutch reached over to put his hand on mine. “Sweetheart, I have daughters and I would shoot any SOB that was stupid enough to raise a hand to them. You did the right thing. We can get the paper work done today on the truck.”
“Hutch, you don’t understand. My boyfriend is a cop. His buddies protect him. I made a mistake by calling a local police department on him one time. I had a whole bunch of different cops down on me. They were telling me to get into a self-help program. They said how this could ruin his whole career. In other words, they told me to shut up and take it. I wouldn’t want to bring them down on you.” I let the tears that I had been repressing all day finally start to fall. I could use them.
Hutch sat for a moment. Then, he reached under his desk. He brought out an opened box of Kleenex.
“Look, here is what we are going to do. Let me take a copy of your driver’s license and an address where you are going to be in two weeks. Give me the $900 and we call it even, tax and all. Take the truck with the temporary tags on it. In another week, I will register the sale and send you the new tags. You can send back the temps. Maybe by that time, your boyfriend will be looking for someone else.”
I gave him the money and went down the road in my truck. I felt bad because I had lied to a very nice guy. I was going to destroy this fine old truck and I was going to throw away his temp license.
Okay, I was starting to reclaim my senses. Tim had said to go home. I didn’t have a road map, but I knew I needed to head east, so the first main route I found, that was what I did. I drove for as long as the gas held out. That lasted until night. I stopped, filled up and found a highway rest area. I pulled in to catch a couple of hours sleep. I woke with a start with someone tapping on my window. A man was looking in, but I only rolled the window down an inch.
“The cops are here. This is a good time to leave or go to the bathroom. They will ticket you if they catch you sleeping.”
“Thanks,” I said to him. I watched as he went to another car parked further down. Just a Good Samaritan. I looked around to see the state troopers, two of their vehicles parked at the end of the line of the parking area. I got out, heading to the bathrooms. On the way, I waved at one of the troopers who headed my way. I ignored him as I kept on to the restroom. I used the toilet and washed my hands, but when I came out, he was on the sidewalk outside.
“Thought I would wait and see you get back to your truck safely.” He touched the edge of the wide brim of his hat smiling.
I smiled, thanking him. “I couldn’t wait any longer. I was relieved to see you guys pull up.” We reached my truck. “Thanks.” I got in, locked the door in a way that he could see, then started it up. He stood on the sidewalk watching as I backed out. I pulled out the exit drive. I glanced into my rear view mirror, but I couldn’t see either trooper in the darkness of the park.
I merged into the light traffic on the highway. At the first main road, I turned south. I stayed in a southern route until dawn. By then, I came to a decent sized town. I pulled into a Denny’s for breakfast. Hutch had been right about the gas, as after breakfast, I found another gas station to fill up the truck. Then, I found another good size state route heading east. Now, I settled in for a long day on the road.
I tried the radio, pretty sure this one was safe. When I came over a hill following a line of traffic to see the road blockade, it was almost eleven in the morning. It was at least a mile ahead. There were a few cars coming towards me, but they were scattered out as they had been stopped and then allowed, one at a time, through the blockade.
Without slowing down, I spun the truck around in the road to head back. Although the truck might have been as heavy as the Town Car, the rear end was light, as there was nothing in the bed of the truck. It came around too fast. I fought the fish tail, but my driving gloves held onto the wheel. The heavy V8 engine pulled me through as long as I kept my foot on the gas. I remembered Tim’s lessons and resisted the urge to hit the brakes. The truck leveled out. I was traveling in the opposite direction doing close to fifty without a single hiccup.
I smiled as I became aware that I had not even received a single honk
from some surprised driver. I didn’t know if they were looking for me or some escaped convict, but I was not going to take a chance. Tim had made me a believer.
I turned south on a county road and followed a farm truck for several miles until we hit another state route that led to a good size town. I pulled up in front of a home-style restaurant. I locked up the truck, as I’d decided to have a long lunch. I’d also decided to take a meal with me that I could eat in the truck to avoid stopping except to get gas, but after seeing the roadblock, I needed to let my nerves relax.
The meal was good—gravy meatloaf and biscuits. The waitress fixed up a nice roast beef sandwich for my boyfriend and filled a cold cup with Ice Tea. I was going to have to make a strong effort to get some fresh salads down before long as the last several days had been good on the carbs, but bad on the low cal items.
Chapter Fourteen
Home
Traveling this way, it took me a week to get close to Cincinnati and home. I was getting to be an expert of traveling back roads. I learned how to avoid anything that might draw suspicion. I picked up newspapers sitting with my laptop at WiFi restaurants that had other customers with laptops up as they used them.
I never logged into my own site and I didn’t try to retrieve any email. I just got maps and looked up information on the accident on Black Ops. I studied how far Government authority could go with Homeland Security in place. It seems it could go pretty far now. Scary.
I did check on the HELP charity that I had worked at and where Tim had left some bodies in an alley. No news about the bodies, so someone had cleaned that up. The web site for the church with the charity was up and running, asking for donations and pointing out their good deeds. Again, I found it frightening that there was no mention of the bodies in the alley. I was learning a lot about this country I lived in. I didn’t like what I was discovering.
On the Kentucky side of the Ohio River, I knew of a couple of old junk yards that nobody paid much attention to, with the vegetation growing up inside. I crossed over to locate one. I drove the sound little truck into one, driving back behind piles of rusted metal. I sat for a while waiting to see if anyone came out. I beeped my horn, but there didn’t seem to be anyone on the property, which suited my purpose.
