by Mike Walsh
It was dark and late so he expected to get a ride any time soon, but he needed to keep walking. The last sign said 25 miles to Odessa and Michael could walk a mile in ten minutes so he spent some time figuring out how long it would take to walk all the way. Probably a little over four hours but to be more realistic, more like six or seven hours. Past sunup, anyway.
An old pickup came up, its yellow headlights telling Michael it was probably from the 30’s, a 39 Ford or Plymouth. The pickup pulled over, a battered old Ford. Michael couldn’t figure out why it would stop on a dark road this late for a stranger not even hitching. He looked over and did a double-take. Buddy was in the truck waving him over. “Michael, come on. We’re going to Odessa. Hop in.” Michael got in the truck, an old guy driving. He just shifted and drove off. Buddy was animated at seeing Michael. “What are you doing on the road? What was going on back there at Donovan’s? All them cop cars and blinking lights.”
Michael thought that Buddy was probably going to take off, because of the way his old man treated him, but decided not to tell him about the ruckus back at Donovan’s. Let him find out himself some other way. “I don’t know. I just took off. Everything was quiet, except the Donovan’s loud fighting. Maybe someone called the cops. I don’t know.”
“Well, where are you going? You quit your job? What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve been there long enough. I need to get on, get to the next place. Where are you going?”
“I guess Odessa, first, cause that’s as far as this guy’s going. He works 24 in Midland and goes home to Odessa for 24. I was lucky to catch him at the light and beg a ride.”
“Well, I guess I’m going to Odessa,” Michael said.
They talked for awhile, the old guy silent, and decided they would get a place together for awhile and get a dishwashing job or something together and see what happens. Michael told Buddy he wanted to get up north while the weather was still warm and back down south when it cooled down. Buddy agreed, like he was going to come along.
Michael rang the bell in a cheap hotel on the main street until a grumpy manager came out in dirty white long-johns, pulling up his suspenders and looking real sour. They rented a room with a big bed overlooking main street on the second floor. The window went all the way to the floor and had no cover over it. Michael took the window side of the bed and went right to sleep.
• • •
In the morning, they tried all the cafes and bars looking for work. They struck pay-dirt at an all-night cafe near the center of town that just lost its help to the oil fields. Michael and Buddy agreed to start at nine that night and work until they weren’t needed in the morning. 50 cents an hour and one meal. Wash dishes, clean tables, make coffee, scrub floors and anything else the cook had them do. They decided to get some sleep cause it was going to be a long night.
• • •
Michael woke up, it was dark and looked late outside. Buddy was not in the room. Michael twisted his head at the window to see the clock in front of the bank. 11:30. Shit, he overslept. Buddy must have gone on to work. Probably shook Michael and assumed he was coming. Michael bent down to pick up his pants, but they were not where he dropped them. He pulled the light chain and saw them on the chair. Michael checked the pockets and found them empty. Christ, Buddy had robbed him. He checked his shoe and found the ten dollar bill intact. When he was dressed, he went down to the cafe.
He stayed across the street and watched through the front windows for who was working. He could just see, over the pass-thru serving ledge, the cooks head. Eventually, an old guy came out the swinging door and started cleaning tables. No Buddy. There was no waitress, you ordered your food at the pass-thru directly from the cook. Michael watched for another half hour. Still no Buddy. Well, the rooms paid for, so Michael went back to the hotel to sleep off the night and his disappointment in Buddy.
• • •
He woke up at seven, cleaned up and headed north out of town. An old guy in a sedan responded to his outstretched thumb and gave him a ride. He was not local and was going to a small town this side of the state line. He gabbed on, telling Michael about his daughter with three kids, her husband off to Korea, leaving her alone. He was alone himself, so he thought he would go live with her for awhile. Michael didn’t know about this Korea thing, but decided to just go along and nod. They were going along at a pretty good clip, about eighty, when a black Olds flew by, must have been going 120. The old guy, never did say his name, said “There’s an accident not waiting to happen.”
The road was stretched out as straight as could be with nothing to see but desert. About an hour later, they could see something going on way up ahead. The old guy didn’t slow down until they were close enough to see it was an accident. The black Olds was only half a car now, having hit another black car head on. A trailer truck with a loaded flat bed was up ahead a little, pulled off the side of the road. The driver was sitting on the side gas tank, his head in his hands. They pulled over behind the truck and the old guy got out and trotted over to the truck driver.
Michael started for the Olds but there was blood pooled all over the road on the passenger side. The windshield was gone and the cause of the blood was sprawled half on the hood and half hanging down. It looked like it might have been an older man. He went around to the driver’s side and saw a young woman, a girl really, sitting up behind the steering wheel like she was waiting for a light to change. She had on a striped long sleeve blouse and jeans with her hands at her sides. Her eyes were wide open and Michael thought at first she was OK. He touched her shoulder and she fell over onto the passenger side. Her legs were severed at the knees and the whole front of the car was against the seat. As she fell a huge fear washed over Michael and he turned and gagged up vomit on the street. He wiped his mouth, shaking violently, and walked back to the sedan and got in. Awhile later, the old guy came back and drove off saying nothing.
When Michael calmed down he asked what had happened. The truck driver told the old guy the girl didn’t see the other car as she came around to pass. The noon sun was probably in her eyes. They were going to stop at the next town to report the accident. The truck driver had to stay there until the police came. They were pretty much silent the rest of the way, driving a little more slowly.
• • •
When they got to the next town, a dinky little place called Dalhart, the old guy said Michael probably didn’t want to get involved with the police reporting, and he was pretty close to where he was going, anyway. Michael took the hint and thanked the man, him looking real tired and a little misty eyed. Probably thinking that could have been his daughter or something like that.
He got out of the car, waved and continued north, walking to the edge of town. There was a Greyhound bus idling by the side of the road in front of a café. A small metal sign stuck out above the entrance that said this was also the bus station. Michael walked around the front of the bus and looked up at the destination scroll. Salt Lake City. Probably didn’t have enough money, just the ten dollars.
He went into the café and saw the driver eating at the counter. A whole bunch of people filled the booths. Must be from the bus. He went to the cash register and a waitress came over and asked him, “What’cha want, hon?”
“How much is a ticket to Salt Lake?” he asked, being very polite. “I only have 10 dollars.”
She looked over at the driver who heard his request and he nodded a little. “You’re in luck, hon’, it’s only 9 dollars the rest of the way. I can fix you up a meal for 35 cents and there’s one more meal stop before the big city.”
Michael found an empty seat and with his belly full, curled up and went to sleep.
Chapter 12 – Salt Lake City
The bus pulled up at the corner and Michael got off. It was real weird. Two in the morning and everything was lit up, open and people coming and going like it was daytime. There was a supermarket on this corner, but it looked like the center of the city. Michael had never seen a super
market in the center of the city. Usually, they were on the outskirts where people lived and in town was just the small local grocery store that all the customers charged their food and let the owner chase them for payment.
• • •
The man approached him before he had both feet on the ground, like he was waiting for him. Hi Johnny, have a nice trip? Aunt Ellen has dinner ready. The car’s over here, let me get your bag. Only this guy was not Uncle Fred. Michael took him for a queer right off, even though his casual clothes made him look like a college professor. Whatever they looked like. He had a nice sweater over his shirt with the collar out, slacks with a sharp crease, and shiny shoes. Like he wants to look trustworthy.
“You have a place to stay?” Nice opening line.
“Beat it,” Michael said softly, so as not to create a scene. “I don’t fool with queers, so you can just go find someone else.”
Michael started walking to the corner just a few feet away to look up and down the streets. It was warm and balmy, like it might start raining, with just a hint of breeze. The man walked with him. He looked about forty years old and was not insulted by Michael’s remarks.
“Hey, slow down. No one’s going to hurt you. You look like a nice kid. I’m just trying to be helpful. I like to help kids who run away from home stay out of trouble in this town. Honest, I’m not going to attack you.”
Michael noticed he did not deny being a queer. That’s the way they do it. Get your trust and then go for your wang. Maybe he wasn’t a college professor. Maybe he sold washing machines or something else that didn’t work right.
• • •
Michael was not a talker, so he just stopped on the corner looking in all directions to see what he was going to do next. He had slept on the bus most of the way and was not tired. He could walk the rest of the night and catch the morning traffic going west at daybreak. He was sure he could be on the edge of town by then. The man was still close to Michael, making it look like they were together. Michael backed off a little.
“Look kid, you look streetwise. I won’t bullshit you. Let me put you up for the night. Nothing will happen and no one will touch you. I promise.” He had a look of honesty that Michael saw in his eyes, grey and clear. What the hell, he can take care of himself, he always had his razor and he had nothing else do.
“OK, but no funny business or I might do something.”
“Sure, sure, my cars over here. It’s just a short ride.”
Michael didn’t bother asking him what he was doing hanging around the out of town bus stop. He was just wary of everything this guy said and did. After all, Michael had been in lots tougher spots.
• • •
The man, who introduced himself as Carl, pulled the car up in front of this huge sprawling two-story house on a street of two- and three-story houses. There was a sidewalk and little gate before the steps.
When asked, Michael said his name was Joey again, and Carl said “Joey, yeah. Joey.”
Inside the glass front door was a large entry almost like a room. Beyond that was a very large room with tables and chairs and couches full of men sitting around smoking, drinking beer, playing cards and reading.
“Hey everyone, this is Joey. He’s spending the night. Off limits, OK?” They all looked up. “Hi Joey, hey guy” and stuff like that.
Michael just looked about and sort of half waved. He wasn’t scared now. Too many witnesses. Carl steered him around the room. There were doors off this room all around. They passed an open door and there was a young guy lying on his back on a bed. When he saw Michael, he put his legs up in the air and hollered something like “Come and get it, big boy.” The sight made Michael want to throw up, he was so surprised at the gesture.
Carl said, “Pay no attention to Peter. He’s a slut.”
Carl entered a small bedroom and Michael stopped at the door. It was clean and neat and had a small bed in the middle. “You can sleep here tonight and be on your way in the morning, OK? You can even lock the door from the inside, see? Just throw this latch.”
Michael mumbled a thank you and Carl closed the door after stepping out. Michael sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the activity on the other side of the door. Eventually, he lay on the bed and fell asleep. No way was he going to take his clothes off.
• • •
Michael woke to a quiet and stillness that was very strange. It was like he was all alone with no one for miles. Sort of like Texas on a hot and dusty road with nothing but desert all around.
He went to the door and quietly turned the knob. It wouldn’t budge. He checked the latch and turned it open, pushing the little button up to hold it open. Still would not budge. The doorknob was in one of those old-fashioned square metal knob and lock devices. The key would be a skeleton key and when Michael stooped down to look through the keyhole, he saw the key in the lock from the other side. Bastards, he thought. Mr. Nice Guy, locks me in.
Michael put his ear to the door and heard nothing. He could push the key out with something, but would not want it to fall making any noise in case someone was out there. He took the edge of the thin blanket and fed it under the door. It was a tight fit and would not come back out with the key. Looking around for something to push the key out with, he spotted a picture hanging on the wall and snapped off the wire it was hanging on. A couple of nudges and the key fell silently to the floor.
Michael pulled the blanket until he heard the key touch the door. He broke open the picture frame, took out the print and slid it under the blanket and key. Then he pulled the blanket out and the key came in with the picture. After inserting it quietly in the lock, he turned very slowly until it was all the way around. The door opened easily and Michael peeked out. All quiet.
He quietly opened the door and looked out to a messy but empty room. He walked around the room, found a swinging door to a kitchen. The table in the middle of the room was piled high with beer bottles and cigarette butts and packages. The fridge held some fresh milk and cheese and stuff, so Michael made himself something to eat.
In one of the bedrooms, he found some clothes that looked like they would fit him. He was going to take a bath but all there was in that hall bathroom was a stall with a shower. Michael showered, washed his hair and put on brown slacks, off white shirt and light brown sweater. The shoes that fit were loafers with little tassels on them. He popped them off. He found a flight bag and stuffed it with more clothes.
He was about to go out the front door when he saw the stairs, completely forgetting to check out the second floor. At this point, he guessed that if anyone was up there, they would have heard him showering and scavenging around. But maybe he could find something he could use up there.
At the top of the stairs were four closed doors, two on each side. He tried the one at the stairs edge first. Empty except for furniture, looking pretty sterile. The dresser was empty. Same with the one across the hall. At the back of the hall a bathroom door stood open with closed doors left and right. He went to the left door first and found it locked. He put his ear to the door and thought he heard something. That made his hair tingle with fright and he almost bolted. But then he heard what he thought was sobbing, sort of that hiccup sobbing that you do when your sent to your room without supper because you came home late or something.
Michael listened some more and decided to turn the key in the lock and open the door. He did this quietly, and peeked inside. It was a large room with a bed on one side. A boy, naked and sobbing looked at him with terrified eyes. He was smaller and younger than Michael and when he saw Michael just standing there pulled his hand from his mouth and sobbed out “I want to go home.”
Michael got the picture right away and didn’t need to ask any questions. He told the boy “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll help you get out of here. Where’s your clothes?”
The boy just looked at Michael, not trusting what he heard. Michael couldn’t blame him. “Where’s my brother? Where’s Donny?” The boy now looki
ng like he understood he was getting rescued.
“Aw shit, there’s two of you?” Michael pulled the boy up and marched him into the bathroom. “Go to the toilet and wash off in that tub,” Michael commanded. He then pulled the key out of the lock and opened the opposite door. That boy was also naked, apparently sleeping, looking a lot like his brother. Twins maybe.
• • •
Michael had them dressed and in the kitchen eating when he finally calmed down. He did not know why he was fuming. Well, maybe he did.
He looked out back and saw a detached garage with a crumbling double door. He told the kids to sit tight, he’d be right back. It was only about ten in the morning, and Michael thought the earliest anyone might come back would be noon for lunch, and that, too, was doubtful. Inside the garage was a wooden clapboard boat about twenty feet long.
Michael found a tool box with a hammer and large screwdriver. He pulled up the wooden grate at the bottom of the boat and proceeded to hammer a row of holes through the bottom of the boat along each side of center. When he put the grate back, the holes could not be seen. “There, maybe someone will be in the middle of a lake and realize they’re sinking.” Michael felt better already.