Hitchhikers (Wolf Point #1)

-13-

I let the trucks zoom by; I ignore the ones that stop. The memory of Paul's teeth keeps me from even looking at them.

At a gas station I stop and buy a soda and a sandwich that I eat sitting on the ground against the wall, cooling off in the shade. I purchase a bottle of water for the road and head off again.

I want to be as far away as possible by the time room 7 is discovered.

A green sign looms on the horizon. As I get closer, the white letters spell out

Moberly 20 miles

Jefferson City 80 miles

These flat fields I see are all I'll be seeing for the next few days.

I sigh and keep walking.

It's getting close to dark when I smell something familiar. The breeze is at my back, and the scent drifts up to me, makes me feel warm and secure even though all day I've been jittery from the adrenaline rush earlier. Warm fuzzy feelings, but sad, too, once I realize what that smell reminds me of.

Once the vehicles on the highway have all turned on their headlights and I'm getting déjà-vu flashes from last night, I head down the little embankment on the side of the road, into a field. Wheat, the stalks rustling softly in the breeze. I'll make a little nest out here, sleep under the stars. It's cold now, and the gray sweatshirt isn't nearly as warm as my old jacket. So I yank up handfuls of the wheat and lay it over myself until it's less of a nest than a burrow, and my body heat is starting to warm it up.

Away from the road and the sound of my sneakers pounding the pavement, I hear it.

An animal approaching, taking quick trotting steps. Panting. With that smell.

I lift my head, craning around to see if it's real. It's too dark. "Lila?" I whisper. Then, louder, because I don't even know why I'm whispering when there's not a soul around to hear me, "Lila!"

The steps roll into a loping run and I hear an excited yip. Then she's here, knocking off my wheat blanket and whuffing her hot breath into my face and neck and licking me, licking me, and it's the happiest moment I can remember.

* * *

Lila makes a warm blanket, though I envy her fur. I can only hope Moberly will have something akin to a Salvation Army or a church thrift store, although if worse comes to worse I might be able to find some clothes drying on a clothesline outside, or I could break in and steal something, but I'd rather not when I've got a big wad of money in my pocket. I'd like to be able to get something real heavy, a real winter coat that's a little too big, and a hat too. And gloves. And I can't forget underwear.

I guess because I blacked out for so long I'm not tired now. Lila's face is my scarf, we're wrapped up together and I'm watching the stars. I can't imagine how she found me after Pervy Paul drove off with me, or why she would want to keep following me when I don't have any food for her and I ditched her at the first opportunity. I'm just glad she did. She's dead asleep now. Her paws are hot and I massage them, imagining all those miles she traveled on those feet to catch up with me.

When I was a kid I didn't have many friends. Our town in Montana was small, and there were maybe 50 kids in my grade, most of them coming in from ranches sprawled out all over the place. My father wasn't a rancher and neither were my uncles. We all lived close together on the outskirts of the Canadian forest, and the only other kid near my age was Kayla, who was a year younger than me. My mom was able to find work, seasonal labor, because she'd grown up on a ranch and she'd help drive cattle and with branding and stuff like that. Sometimes I helped her. My dad never helped. He worked at the local bar in town, serving drinks or bouncing or even cooking, whenever the manager wasn't too pissed at something or other he'd done. He got into a lot of fights, my dad. If he wasn't so darn angry maybe I could have bought a friend home, if I'd had one. But we mostly kept to ourselves, and Kayla was the closest to a friend I had.

Maybe if I'd had a friend, it wouldn't have been so easy to run away and leave everything behind. Maybe I wouldn't have all these weird feelings boiling up inside me all because some stray dog decided it was better to be with me than to be alone.