The Outcast

by Rik Thompson

  Donnie inquired how long the ride would be.

  “Dammit, I like you guys, and normally I just pick certain kinds of folks up, but you guys are cool, and for you – I’m going to California.”

  “Can we go?’ Book asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  · * * *

  The sun masqueraded in and out of the clouds west of Sierra Blanca, just east of El Paso along the uninteresting Texas flat lands. Mark pulled off the freeway onto the west frontage road, and into a truck stop in the middle of nowhere.

  “Fuel stop, a little hydrogen for the baby. Those folks that are continuing on to LA, our trip will now take a thirty-minute break.”

  In the café they were seated at a table. Mark saying, “I have to pee,” and heading off to the restroom cued Book into the same thought and he stood up.

  “I’ll get us a newspaper,” Donnie said as he left the table as well.

  Mark and Book took a urinal beside each other.

  “And to think, this is free.”

  “What’s free?”

  “What we are doing right here, you know a free pee.”

  “Oh, yes I guess it is, isn’t it? Book smiled, coughed to clear his throat. “My, guess I need something to drink.”

  “Yeppers that is known as the cotton mouth you got there. Weed will do it every time.”

  The two boys returned to the table to find Donnie perusing The El Paso Times newspaper.

  Mark looked at Donnie, “Are we wanted for anything in there?” he said as a joke.

  Donnie scowled back at Mark and glanced at Book urgently. Book sat down beside Donnie; Mark took the other side of the table.

  Book studied Donnie’s face. He knew he had something important to say, but he figured not in the mix of company they were presently in.

  They ordered beef stew. Part way through the meal Donnie touched Book on the leg, and then got up from the table.

  “I have to take a whizz.”

  Book stood up, “I’ve got to go as well.”

  They both walked off toward the restroom.

  Mark watched them go. Hmmm. . .Maybe I have a couple of gay boys in my midst.

  Donnie checked the room for other occupants.

  “All clear, he said looking about the restroom.

  “What’s going on?” Book asked.

  “The story, in the paper. There’s an article about us and it has comments by Sylvie Robers.”

  “And you left the paper on the table?”

  Donnie brought out the article from his pocket. “No, I didn’t. Here it is.”

  Sure enough, the article was about them. A sense of fear ran through Book’s face as he read the article.

  “She wants a nationwide all persons’ bulletin for our capture. This is not good.”

  “Yes, but as of right now we have a ride all the way to California, and the odds of us making it all the way out there I feel is pretty good for the most part, “Donnie said.

  Back and forth went the conversation for the next few moments until a stranger entered the restroom. Then they both walked out and back to the table. They found the table was empty. On the table was a note signed by Mark, and with only one other word written down on the piece of paper:

  Faggots

  Book grabbed the piece of paper off the table, and they left the truck stop, and headed out to the freeway in time to watch Mark merge onto the interstate.

  · * * *

  They walked in silence along the side of the freeway going west until the truck stop was a tiny speck in the distance where their walk was interrupted by the Texas Highway Patrol pulling up beside them.

  “Hey you guys,” the patrolman shouted as he rolled down his window. “You cannot be on the interstate.” The officer got out of the car. The shocks on the car regained their composure as soon as he hit the pavement.

  Donnie looked at Book. Neither one could decide what to do.

  Book studied the officer.

  Book slapped Donnie on the back, “See, didn’t I tell you we couldn’t be walking down the freeway? But, no – talked me into it, didn’t you. You worthless piece of a friend – “

  “Hold it boys, enough of this.” The Officer chuckled. “I see you both have the message now. And it’s okay now, seeing how you both really know the law now; I will let you two off with a warning. If I catch you again – “

  “Not going to ever happen again, Sir. We both got the message loud and clear,” Donnie said.

  “Where are you guys heading.”

  · * * *

  The State Trooper transported the boys back to the truck stop. He didn’t want to drive west for several miles to the next exit – still in the middle of nowhere.

  They did not go back into the truck stop for obvious reasons; instead they remained on the on-ramp.

  “That was close – too close for comfort. But I’ve got to hand it to you, Book. That was quick thinking, and it was enough to get us out of that jam.”

  “Whew, you’re telling me,” Book said. “I was ready to put it into the woods quick fast, and I believe we could have outrun the fat guy.”

  “Yes, as long as he didn’t pull out that blaster he had on his hip.” Donnie added. “I guess we have to try and hitchhike from here and hopefully the cars that leave the truck stop haven’t read the newspaper.”

  Hours went by. Cars would enter the ramp; cars would go by. Some would blow their horn, and others wave, but no one stopped.

  “This is really fucked up,” Book said.

  “And where did that language come from?”

  It’s just fucking terrible,” Book said. “We stand out here, and are ignored, like we never existed.” He picked up a rock and threw it at the freeway entrance sign setting off a metallic bang.

  “You’re upset. That won’t make it better though, will it?”

  Book tried to calm down. “Sorry, I am perplexed we cannot get a ride. It’s like fishing in a dead lake – no fish – no ride.”

  “It will get better. It has too.”

  · * * *

  It was an hour past sunset, Mountain Time, when the pair was let off North West of El Paso, in the town of Canutillo.

  “Donnie was beaming, “I told you it would get better.”

  Book managed a thin smile, “Okay, okay, you were right. Don’t rub it in tin man.”

  “I know this experience; running from the law, wanting to know where you came from – all the instances we have been through are really tragic to you. If I was human, I don’t believe I could have stood up to it as you have, and as a friend and confidant to you I just wanted you to know that I am with you no matter where this all leads or ends up.”

  Tears began to roll down Book’s cheeks.

  “I just don’t know how much more of this I can take. But however, much it is, I won’t fucking give up trying now or never. I will find my parents, and I will ask them why this had to all happen to me, and I will get to the bottom of it all.”

  · * * *

  They walked out of town, not bothering to hitchhike; each kept their thoughts and feelings to themselves.

  Traffic was at a minimum, if any at all. Still they stood there and waved their thumbs at every transporter that passed.

  · * * *

  “Just shut up, Lenny, I know what the hell I’m doing. As soon as we get to Phoenix, we will be stashing this cash, and laying low for a while. Then we are off to . . .”

  They were doing seventy when they passed the two men standing off the roadway. Lenny hit his brakes hard. The van skidded off to the side and came to an abrupt stop off the road.

  Donnie and Book ran up to the van.

  “Come on, get in,” Lenny said. “You all are holding up progress.”

  The boys jumped into the van and it sped off into the night.

  “Where are you guys heading?” Donnie asked.

  Albert, the guy sitting in the passenger seat turned around and brandished a thirty-eight, “Just don’t worry about where we are go
ing, just shut up and keep those thoughts to yourself. You hear me?”

  “Oh, loud and clear,” Donnie said.

  “Hey, Al, put that thing away. We didn’t pick up these guys to harass them. It’s a friendly gesture and let’s keep it that way.”

  “Okay, Boss. Sorry to harass you guys.”

  “But, let it be hereby known,” Lenny said, “that we are going to rob your guys. Did you hear?”

  “Red flashing lights coming up fast,” Book said.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Lenny said. “We got to get away from these blasters.”

  Lenny looked for a quick turn off, and when he found one hit the brakes and tried to navigate the turn effectively. He fell short. The van spun out of control and flipped over twice. It came to rest, off the side of the road into a ditch.

  It seems like an eternity passed by; it was only a matter of seconds when Book regained consciousness. He heard sirens off in the distance and looking around rapidly he saw the two crooks. Lenny, the driver was part way in the van and part way outside the driver side window, now broken to pieces. Albert was still in the van, but unconscious. Book crawled over to his friend. The left arm of the robot lay in the front of the van. His head was smashed, and the right leg was partially torn from the torso.

  Book began to cry. He turned the robot over where he could access the back of the skull. He flipped a tiny switch and the top of the head and lifted it off. He carefully looked into the skull and retracted a small rectangular shaped board full of electronic circuitry.

  “Goodbye my friend.”

  Book fled the van.

  · * * *

  “Would you look at that?” Sergeant Rhymers said as the lead police car rounded the corner. “That van must have flipped several times – looks like.”

  Three police cars parked at the scene of the overturned van. It took a good-sized crowbar to loosen and open the back doors of the van.

  “There are three bodies in here. I thought we were chasing two criminals. Lenny, and Albert,” said senior officer, Joseph Conklin.

  Fellow officer, Myles Davis crawled into the van to check out the suspects. “Sarge, there is a robot in here, and he’s all broken apart.”

  · * * *

  “And you are sure the robot has been properly identified?”

  “Yes, Miss Robers. I got the police department to make sure the serial number on the robot matched exactly,” Steve Knowles, assistant to Sylvie Robers replied.

  “Okay. That answers my assumption that the two are trying to get to Los Angeles. Since we already have an all persons out on the fugitives, we will surely pick the boy up in L.A. In the meantime, let’s tighten the net in that area and try to apprehend him before he gets there.”

  · * * *

  LAS CRUCES, NM

  Book sits in a small café off the Interstate Ten. The waitress, wearing a stained pink dress walks up to take his order.

  “What’ll you have?” she asked as she whips out her order book from her dingy black, stained apron.

  Book replies, “Just coffee and a cinnamon roll.”

  “Do you want that heated?”

  “Most certainly I do.”

  The waitress waddles back behind the counter and sticks the ticket on the aluminum turn style, and gives it a spin.

  Book sits back and slumps down in the wooden bench and takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, and wanders back to the recent events.

  Soon, a black figure approaches him from behind. In her left hand she holds a copy of the mornings’ paper.

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  Book, slightly startled looks up at the black woman.

  What is the reason behind this? He thinks. Not sure on how to answer –

  “Okay, sure. Do I know you?”

  The black, young woman sits down, “My name’s Ebony Jones,” she holds her hand out. Book takes her hand. She begins to shake it, “And you must be the guy in this picture,” she replies as she turns the paper around.

  Book shakes his head.

  “Why, isn’t that something? You found me.”

  · * * *

  “You know white boy, you intrigue me. You being an escaped fugitive and me running into you.”

  “Does that story say why it seems like everybody is after me?

  “No, it doesn’t. Is it supposed to?

  “I mean, aren’t you scared. I could be a wanted murderer?”

  “Heavens no - you ain’t got the face for that white boy.”

  Book smiles, okay, I’ll buy that, chocolate girl.”

  Ebony wanted to know why he was wanted, what he did, and why he did it.

  And he actually told her.

  Ebony stretched her face into a broad smile; a smile full of pristine shaped pearly white teeth.

  “That is so funny white boy – “

  “Book. You can call me Book.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s it, what a perfect name for you, Book.”

  Book wrinkles his brow inquisitively, how’s that?”

  “Book, means leave, run, let’s get outta here,” she answered still smiling.

  “I did not know this.”

  · * * *

  Book strolls down the sidewalk, and away from town. He played the scene of the past two hours as he moved. He attempted various methods of stepping; his gait, a semi-swaying motion as he tried his best to adjust his walk to the girl’s shoes. No one would notice him now.

  Out of town a good way he stuck out his thumb. His new disguise got him a ride right off.

  “Where ya headed, Miss?”

  Looks like the disguise is at least working, he thought.

  The man looked to be in his thirties. His hair was an unkept, dirty blond. He wore a flannel plaid shirt; looked like it had coffee stains on it, and when he reached over and began to rub Book’s leg . . .

  “Hey baby, why don’t you and I head into town and my house and have some beers?”

  There was a traffic light ahead, turning red. The redneck slowed and stopped at the light.

  Book turned toward the driver, grabbed him by the neck, and drove him into the seat. The redneck gasped and from what Book could tell, he was trying very hard to breathe as his urgent expression began to turn a beet red.

  “Now, I am going to let you go, and as I do, this behavior will go away, and from here on we will be civilized, right?”

  The redneck shook his head in agreement.

  · * * *

  Book walks along the Freeway, West of Las Cruces, kicking rocks as he goes. He is happy to be free of the city, out on the frontier, in the auburn sky decorated by smoky white clouds. He admired the mountains; the sun bathing them in a red hue.

  Hearing something close from behind him, he spins around to find a brand new, shiny red, Generator sports car slowing to a stop.

  “Where are you off to?” a young man asks. He has jet black hair, mussed from the open top of the sports car cascades down from his ears, and forehead.

  “Going to California, friend is there any room for me in there. If there is, I appreciate it.”

  Book hopped into the sports car.

  “With a look of consternation on his face, the man asked,” Going to California,

  with nothing?”

  Book smiled a twisted, bemused expression crowded his face.

  “I came into this world, with nothing – will leave it in the same way.”

  The ride was silent for several miles. The young man, in the shiny red sports car contemplated the last sentence that was spoken. In a way, he thought it some kind of revelation.

  “What part of Cal are you headed to?”

  “Los Angeles, to start - not sure where it will go from there, if it goes at all.”

  “Excuse me, but I have to ask . . . are you talking in riddles?”

  “No, not at all. I am, I guess in a reflective mood. Sort of like Aristotle, but not like him in the smallest sense of the term.”

  “Then, what’s it all about?”

&
nbsp; Another twisted smile, “You would not believe me.”

  ·

  SEVENTEEN

  The shiny red sports car makes its way deep into the Phoenix rail yard. Samuel stops the car and looks at the boy who is sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat. A long shock of blond hair falls over his eyes, he sleeps sideways in a semi-fetus placement.

  Samuel shakes the boy lightly,” Book, wake up man. This is as far as I go.”

  Book turns toward Samuel and with both hands wipes the sleep from his eyes for a better focus.

  “Whaaat, where are we?”

  “In Phoenix, at the rail yard. Look over there,” he says pointing at a train approximately two hundred yards away, “That train will take you into Los Angeles. You ever rode a train before?”

  Book shakes his head, “No, I am a quick study though.

  “One thing though. How will I know when I’m there?”

  Samuel smiles, “Oh, you will know, guaranteed.”

  “But, how did you know that train will take me there?”

  “I work here. I am a logic gate operator. Where I picked you up; I was coming back from vacation.”

  · * * *

  Book awoke with a start. The train was slowing; finally, it chattered to a stop. Book peered out the door, and saw the vast city of Los Angeles stretched out before him. Book sat down on the edge of the car and slid down to the ground. He walked out from the car slowly, looking both ways. Then checking the totality of his surroundings, he began to run. On a road, the first one he encountered he began to walk backwards with his thumb out.

  · * * *

  He made out Gringo, but was not sure what the two Hispanics were discussing. They made their way north, on the Long Beach Freeway, exiting right onto Third Street, into East Los Angeles. They motioned for him to come along, and he climbed down from the bed of the pick-up and followed them into an apartment building. The apartment was well apportioned. A blazing red carpet, and expensive black leathered upholstery complemented the color scheme. What drew Book’s attention was an electronic apparatus that looked very much like some sort of imaging mechanism. Book took a closer look. There, in a tray beside the mechanism was a tray that held many different types of identification circuits. Jose walked over to Book with a hand held apparatus. He handed the device to Book. Then he spoke, motioning with his hand for the boy to look at the handheld.