Eliot Strange and the Prince of the People

31) On the Road Back to Camp

Torin and I gave up the red jeep to my dad's mission so now we are riding in the back of a dilapidated pick-up with a bunch of kids. I'm gonna miss that red jeep, but I only want to see it again if my mom is on board.

We left Mount Airy ten minutes ago, but it almost seems like we could walk faster. If we didn't have a small kid with us and a now sleeping Torin, I would suggest this. Luke is driving, and he is not doing so bad for a boy who is probably at the most, fourteen. He is careful as he navigates the debris and the neglected, rutty road, but even the road conditions can't account for all of the bumpy ride. We tilt to the right, and I suspect there's either a tire that is partially deflated or maybe even a tire that is a completely different size. The tilt is so bad that I periodically scoot to the left while I give Torin a gentle nudge. Chloe rests on his lap and nods. I don't know how anyone is sleeping on this carnival ride, but I look around and everyone in the back, and all but Luke in the front are dozing. Poor kids. Poor Torin.

It is a beautiful day. Sun shining, but not yet hot enough to fry an egg on a sidewalk as the blazing sun hints at what might come later. Who knows the weather these days? I miss the peek on my phone that would tell me to wear shorts or not, or be ready for an afternoon thunder storm. God help us, when/if mother nature strikes and confounds our already precarious position with a tornado or two.

I feel myself getting sleepy too and look up front and notice Luke nodding. Poor kid, he is probably exhausted too. While Torin and I were ignoring reality at my house, these kids were searching high and low to right their wrong and find Gus. I'm starting to think of them as less Children of the Corn and more like the Goonies. They are kids on an adventure in the worst of times and circumstances.

I tap on the window and do hand motions for Luke to pull over at the next driveway. We pull over and back into the yard of a long ago abandoned tobacco barn with a shelter. Luke pulls under the shelter of the barn so that we can see anything going by but still be hidden from sight.

I am facing the road and have a good line of sight so I motion to Luke like I am resting my head on a pillow and flash ten fingers twice. Twenty minutes. We will rest for twenty minutes.

I sleep an immediate, deep sleep. It is one of those naps where, when you try to wake up, you don't know where you are or when you are. In this in and out of sleep, I hear a loud, roaring noise that seamlessly becomes a part of my dream. The noise is the ocean crashing on the beach after a storm. I am six and not afraid. The noise morphs into a fan, a loud fan blowing a cooling breeze across me as I sleep in a muggy, stuffy, cramped space. I am ten at summer camp where some idiot decided no air conditioner means a real-life experience for spoiled city kids. The noise morphs into fear, loud fear. I am not afraid for myself, I am afraid for... Who? I don't know. It is someone I love. I am afraid for her.

Not my mom. It is Carli. In my dream, Carli rides off on the back of a bicycle, a loud bicycle. She is hanging on for dear life to my prince. I hope she falls off.

But wait, it is too loud for a bicycle, and my prince sleeps here beside me. I pat my prince, he is still here. Loud becomes a motorcycle. Carli hangs onto Jack. Be careful. Carli. Don't fall off. Hang onto Jack. Thank you, Jack and thank you, Carli. You saved us. You saved my prince.

I'm sorry. I forgot about you, Carli. Are you ok? Did you get away? Your motorcycle is too loud. You are waking us all up. I feel motion and turning and stretching, and bam, I am awake.

I see you Carli as you go by on the back of the motorcycle with Jack. Am I still dreaming? Who are those other people? They look and sound like a motorcycle gang from a scary TV show where you better not cross them, you better not.