In front of me, I heard the pale-faced girl, “Amber,” shift in her seat, cough, and stand up. After she finished her cigarette, she quietly disappeared into the lavatory with her handbag. My gaze was perfectly centered on the doorway, so I would be able to get a really good look at her in the light when she came out. I struggled to stay awake waiting for her but nodded off exhausted.
5.
GALLUP, NEW MEXICO
When I opened my eyes again, it was light out. Only a few hours had passed, but the sun had risen, and I felt as if I’d finally gotten a full night’s sleep. I didn’t want to budge yet from my spot, as I was feeling comfortable and snug zipped up in my puffy brown windbreaker. Marcus was still asleep but stirring and leaning against the lavatory wall beside him. When I saw his face as he awoke, I suddenly blinked several times, realizing that it wasn’t the sun that had awoken me but something else. Marcus’s expression was alert and signaling that something was definitely wrong and out of place. It was the smell that had awoken us.
“What’s that smell? Do you smell that?” he quickly asked me, as he sat up, catching his bearings.
“I do. What is that? It doesn’t smell like the toilet.”
Just then, Marcus looked down at his feet in shock. He was trying to avoid stepping in something, but it was everywhere and all over the bottoms of his shoes. A large sticky mess had pooled in front of our seats in the back row. I thought maybe it was soda, but Marcus looked terrified. He slowly got up from his seat and began scanning the area in front of us.
“What is it, Marcus?”
“It’s blood,” he answered. His gaze shifted and settled on the seat in front of us, and he seemed not to know what to say. I started to sit up and lean over the seat without touching the floor, but just as I could see over the seat, Marcus told me no.
“Sit down, Sebastien,” he said very calmly.
“What happened?” I asked, confused.
All I could see was that “Amber” wasn’t moving, and she didn’t look as if she was going to. She looked stiff and reminded me of one of the store mannequins as she lay across the seat with her arm hanging awkwardly down to the floor.
“Pull the emergency cord,” Marcus ordered me.
“Wha…”
“Sebastien. Please pull the emergency cord above you! We need to stop the bus.”
“Okay!” I replied, startled.
As soon as I pulled on the red emergency cord, a bell went ding and was then followed by a long, uninterrupted buzzer. I caught Monty’s gaze looking back at us in his large mirror.
He quickly came on over the intercom. “You boys okay back there?” he asked, intermixed with static. Several people were now awake, twisting in their seats and wondering what was going on.
“You need to stop the bus.” Marcus spoke loud enough to be heard but didn’t shout. Monty seemed to understand his tone.
“You want me to pull over?” Monty asked. “We’re only about ten minutes from the Gallup terminal, but I’ll stop. Hang on.” The intercom clicked off and Monty slowed the bus and veered it off onto the shoulder. When we had come completely to a halt, he unclipped his seat belt, grabbed his handheld radio, and quick-stepped it to the back toward us.
“Stay seated, everyone.”
Marcus was standing at the opening of “Amber” ’s seat in front of the latrine. Monty only glanced at her for a quick second before his face sank. He reached down with one hand and placed it on her exposed neck and rested it there. I looked down at the floor and stared at the blood, trying to think what might’ve happened to her. I didn’t have a clue.
“Dear Lord,” Monty exhaled after examining her. He rose up and put his hands on his hips, looking as if he didn’t know what came next. Then, as he caught me watching him, he turned on his small radio and called out to the terminal.
“Hello, 1364 to Gallup Terminal.”
A brief moment passed while he waited for a response.
“Terminal. Go ahead, 1364.”
“I have an emergency situation on the bus and require medical assistance.” The bus had gone quiet. I could hear Monty talking over the radio. His voice remained calm as he reported the details.
“What’s your twenty?” the disembodied voice replied.
“About ten minutes out.”
“Can you drive? Is the coach functional?” the voice responded again.
“Yeah, I’m fine. The bus is still operational.”
“Bring it in then, we’ll have an emergency crew meet you here. Is anybody hurt?”
“One female passenger, deceased,” Monty announced. A sound traveled around the bus. The other passengers seemed to be shocked by this, but everyone kept quiet, trying to listen in on the conversation. There was a long pause over the radio.
“Okay, 1364, drive to the station.”
“Roger,” Monty replied, and then turned a knob on the handheld device. Marcus and Monty both shared a look, and Monty headed back to the front of the bus. When he got buckled back in, he grabbed the intercom and addressed us.
“Just hold it together, folks. We’ll be pullin’ into Gallup in just under ten minutes. I’d advise everyone to be prepared to take all your belongings with you when you get off, as they’re most likely going to bring in another coach. If ya gotta pray, now’s the time.” His voice was soft and had a respectful manner to it that conveyed more calm and understanding than any words ever could’ve.
In the few moments being pulled over, I was able to get a better look at “Amber.” All I could see of her was her two hands, which were now a very pale gray. One was resting on her stomach, and the other was sticking out over the edge of her seat and onto the floor. She was being held in place by her awkward position alone. I could see that her jeans and her lower torso were covered in blood, and the seat that she had been sitting in was also soaking wet. Her face was obscured by her hair. Before, I had really wanted to look at her, but now, seeing her like this, I had no desire. I knew she wouldn’t be smiling. Her eyes wouldn’t see me, they’d see past me, just like everyone else. And whatever I would say to her, she just wouldn’t respond. It was overwhelming knowing that wherever she was going, she wouldn’t make it. Her family didn’t know yet that she had died in her sleep, and everyone else, not on this bus, was still waiting for her. I didn’t know how she had died. I turned to the only person who knew me and where I was going.
“Marcus,” I asked. “How did she die?” I kept my voice to a whisper, as the bus was silent and had remained so ever since Monty had pulled back out onto the freeway.
“All I can do is guess, but it’s a bit complicated,” he answered, slowly enunciating his words and speaking in a soft whisper.
“I’m sure you know,” I asserted. After asking, I felt bad for pushing it. I would’ve been yelled at by this point if Marcus had been my mother.
“Ask me later. We’ll talk about it when everything’s squared away.” He wasn’t mad, nor did he raise his voice.
The ten-minute drive felt like twenty. The cabin of the bus was so quiet, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the bathroom. Listening to the engine was the only escape. I kept my feet elevated, and every few moments I glanced down to see that the blood on the floor had become like a thin syrup and was drying up. The smell now overtook everything and seemed to get stronger with every inhalation. Marcus had used one of the few blankets that Greyhound provided and had very gently covered her with it.
When we got closer to the Gallup station, a police car pulled in front of us to block traffic, which there wasn’t much of. His red-and-blue lights blazed, sounding us out with the siren. We parked on the main street in front of the terminal and were met head-on with the squealing whine of an approaching ambulance. Monty gave a short message about disembarking and collecting all personal belongings. For the second time during the trip, we had unloaded on the street in front of a group of onlookers and been met by police and Greyhound personnel. I couldn’t help but begin to feel important because of it.
<
br /> I stood on the sidewalk next to Marcus in the morning air, and we waited while Monty unlocked the luggage compartments to start unloading. The emergency crew disappeared into the bus, followed by a few firefighters and a police officer.
“Is there a fire on the bus? Why do they need firefighters?” I questioned, staring at the unfolding spectacle.
“It’s just the way it’s done, that’s all,” Marcus replied. “They’ll probably be the ones to carry her off.”
A few people stood by on the sidewalks, gawking. Most of them looked older than my grandparents.
An old lady in a crisp Greyhound uniform with long, white, neatly braided hair was ushering us inside single file. “Can everyone from 1364 please step into the depot?” she asked. She was darkly tanned and had an angelic tone in her voice that made her sound trustworthy. Monty was off to the side talking with a few other Greyhound people and a police officer who was clutching “Amber” ’s purse. Every few words, they would glance in our direction. As we moved to go inside, it looked as if they were talking about us. The officer walked toward us and then pointed at us menacingly.
“You two, come with me.” The police officer wasn’t really asking as much as he was telling. After the incident in Flagstaff, I felt compelled to comply. I started to worry as we stepped into the terminal behind him. He marched us through a door that said Employees Only, which opened onto a long, narrow hallway where square offices were positioned on both sides.
The bulky policeman corralled me into a small room that was someone’s office. “I need you to sit there for a few moments. Can you do that without getting into anything?”
“Yes, sir,” I responded.
He lightened up a bit toward me after noting my response. “Okay, then. I’ll leave the door open just in case. Don’t budge from that seat.”
“Yes, sir,” I repeated. He turned and slipped away into another office next door with Marcus. I could hear the door close on the other side of the wall and muffled voices, but nothing more. All I heard before the officer shut the door was: “What’s your name?”
I sat perfectly still for over ten minutes as I waited for my turn. The office usually belonged to a “Muriel Rodriguez.” Her name was engraved on a silver plaque that was affixed to the door. The room had no windows anywhere, and every wall was covered by bookcases. The shelves were filled with both blue and gray three-ring binders. I was sitting off to the side near the doorway, along the wall. The chair was comfortable and swiveled, but it was small.
“Can I help you?” A large woman with black hair and deep brown skin addressed me. She was now wondering what I was doing in her office.
“The police officer asked me to wait here,” I replied.
“Did you just get off the 1364 from Los Angeles?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I looked at the name tag on her shirt; it read Muriel.
“Okay. Don’t get into anything,” she responded. She turned to leave but hesitated and spun on her heel.
“You want something to drink while you wait?”
Inwardly, I sighed in relief. “Thanks…I’m fine for now,” I replied. She turned and swished away farther down the hallway into another office.
After a few more moments, the office door where Marcus was being questioned opened, and he and the officer both emerged. When Marcus saw me, he was smiling. It was exactly the opposite of what I expected.
“I’ll grab a table for us in the café, okay?”
“Uh…sure,” I replied unevenly. The police officer was staring at me. After Marcus slipped away, the officer closed the door and leaned against Muriel’s desk, moving a few things on the surface out of the way. He was clutching a notepad and a pen, but they weren’t open, and his arms were crossed.
“Sebastien Ranes, right?” he asked. I mechanically responded yes.
“Ten years old and traveling across the country all by yourself. Where are your parents?”
“I’m twelve, actually, officer,” I spoke.
“Ohh…you’re twelve. Well, that makes all the difference.”
“Today’s my birthday,” I blurted out, nervous. I thought it must’ve fallen on deaf ears. But he laughed.
“Today’s your birthday, too, huh? One helluva present, don’t ya think?”
“I’d rather not think about it, actually.”
“I bet,” he replied, looking me over. He opened his leather-bound tablet.
“So, one more time…where are your parents?”
“My mom is getting married in San Francisco right now.”
“Today? Why aren’t you there at the wedding?” he asked.
“I dunno. Marcus asked me the same question.”
“Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to be on the bus by yourself?” he quizzed.
“Marcus is watching out for me. As long as I’m with an adult, I’m fine.”
He grunted. “Hmmph. Marcus is watching out for you, eh? Did you know he just got out of jail?” the officer asked.
“Prison,” I corrected him for the second time. “He just got out of prison.”
The police officer put his book away and stopped taking notes.
“Does your family know that you’re on the bus, Mr. Ranes?”
“Yes, sir. My mother put me on the bus the other night.”
“So you’ve been on the bus how long now?” he followed up.
“Almost a day and a half, I think. I got on in Stockton at three in the morning,” I answered. I was beginning to feel pressured.
“Who’s picking you up?”
“I have grandparents who are going to meet me in Mount Vernon, Missouri, and I’m getting off in Altoona, Pennsylvania, to go live with my grandma.”
The police officer now looked horrified. “Let me get this straight: you’ve been on the bus for almost two days, and you’re going all the way out to Pennsylvania alone?” He shook his head in disbelief. It may have been concern that registered across his face, but I couldn’t read it very well.
“I’m telling the truth, sir,” I rejoined.
“I guess you are,” he answered, not knowing what else to do with me. “Did you say anything at all to the girl on the bus?” he asked.
“Amber? No, I didn’t.”
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and made a quick note in his book. “She told you that her name was Amber?”
“No. I just thought she looked like an ‘Amber.’ That’s what I called her. The only thing she said to me was ‘You’re welcome.’”
“Well, her name was Luanne,” he corrected.
I needed to ask, as it seemed like my only opportunity. “How did she die?” I wanted to know. He looked at me hard and hesitated.
“Well, I guess you’re man enough to travel across the country alone…” he rationalized. “Do you know what an abortion is, Sebastien?”
“My sister’s called me that a few times.”
He buckled in shock at my words. “I hope not. She was pregnant and went and saw a doctor, probably in Phoenix. They cut her baby out of her, and she bled to death from the complications. I found the paperwork from her visit in her purse.” A grimace was cut across the bottom of his face, speaking his true feelings loudly. He obviously disapproved. That much I could tell.
“Why did she have an…abortion?”
He just shrugged and didn’t respond. He stepped toward the door and turned the knob. I thought he was going to say something, but he only hesitated. He opened the door and ushered me back outside and into the hallway. Muriel Rodriguez was waiting for us to finish. She smiled at the officer.
“Finished?” she asked.
“All yours. Thank you,” he replied. He was more interested in the woman than he was in me. I quickly made my way down the hall, happy that my interrogation was over and that he didn’t ask anything about Flagstaff. I had sent myself into a panic for nothing. They were only concerned about the pale-faced girl, Luanne.
As I crossed over the threshold from the strange world of Employees On
ly and back into the land of listless travelers, I felt an immediate wave of relief pass over me. So much was going on around me that it seemed like the world was closing in on me. First, Leigh Allen in Flagstaff, and now Luanne in Gallup, dying slowly in front of us during the dark of night, not but three feet away. The moment had built into something both heavy and immediate and made me think of all the times that I’d wished I had died.
The Gallup Terminal was one large room and didn’t have a gift shop. A small counter with six stools bolted into the ground was all the place could cobble together for a dining facility. Marcus was sitting quietly in front of a cup of coffee all by himself, reading the paper. No one else was at the counter, and the cook didn’t look very friendly.
I edged in beside him, set my bag down on the ground below me, and just waited for him to say something. The cook looked surprised that I sat next to Marcus but oozed over slowly with a spatula in hand.
“You with him?” the cook asked. I didn’t know for sure if he was addressing Marcus or me. One of his eyes seemed not to focus anywhere in particular but took a continuous direction all on its own. When I finally caught the one good eye, it was burning a glare at me, waiting for a response.
“Yeah, we’re together,” I replied. “May I have a glass of orange juice, please.”
The cook didn’t move a muscle, excepting his one crazy eye. I looked away, feeling embarrassed for a moment. Marcus was staring back at him, equally frozen in place. The world seemed to have momentarily stopped, and the only people within view were locked in a frozen showdown. For a second, my brain was telling me that life was now a shop display, but I knew it wasn’t so. No one looked real anymore. Slowly, after a long delay, the cook reached under the counter, pulled out a small glass, opened another door to a small fridge below, produced the orange juice, and poured me the smallest portion I’d ever seen. I wondered if that was a kid’s size. He slammed it down on the counter, spilling most of it in the process.
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