The Mormon Renegade

Chapter 3

Ftsss

Sheriff Barney walk-jogs to the bus side, his overly large gut jiggles under a fitting mahogany uniform.  

Tapping the exterior using his badge he flashes it to the driver, a middle aged African man who is clearly confused by the unfolding situation.Emerging partially from the shadow of an apartment block I lean against the cool brick wall for support, relieving the pressure on my swelling ankle, "How ya doin'? I'm Sheriff Barney—"

"I know who you are, sir." The driver says respectfully which —for some reason— Barney did not appreciate, rotating his utility belt and retracting his badge.

"Listen here sonny, I just wanna search the bus before you depart, ok? I have reason to believe a young girl in a yellow basketball jersey has boarded between here and Harvard lane, can you confirm this?" We might be far apart but my heart beats so loud I fear he can hear it.

Remembering the navy hoodie I untie the knotted sleeves and slip it on. Double checking the fluro fabric is completely covered as I zip the front up entirely and tuck in excess jersey within my sport shorts. I don't care if it's warm our, it can mean the difference between being found and fleeing. 

Patiently I wait, trying my best to remain still, stationary.

Five minutes later Barney returns, spitting a wad of something on the grass. Cautiously I edge closer to the shadow edge, casted by the wall that supports me. When his back is turned I make the mistake of using my injured ankle, a minor yelp is enough for him to pinpoint my location as his head whips this way.

"Michelle?" Dang. Scooting down the lane until I crouch beside the rear entrance I realise my options are diminishing. I'm done for. His footsteps are creeping closer. My eardrums vibrate like they might explode from my crazy pulse rate. Too much is going on for me to think this through. 

There's not enough time.

Barney's pace decreases upon rounding the corner, thankfully waltzing past my hiding spot instead searching the area to his right. I cover my mouth and nose afraid to breathe while he's in my presence. "'Scuse me Sheriff, can I leave now? I'm ten minutes behind schedule?" The bus driver honk his horn, keys jingle as he turns now directly blocking my escape.

Protruding the dirty sneaker of my uninjured leg while remaining flat against the concrete wall, he is unaware of the trap until his face smacks hard against the stormwater drain. Taking the advantage, I limp one sided toward the bus, pushing past the pain in my grazed head. 

Moping the blood that trickles down my eyebrow, the transport to my future enters my sight and I swear tears start forming. "Sheriff Barney?...Helloooo?...Ok, I'm leaving Sheriff." He calls out again uncertainly, conflicted as to whether he should wait for him or obey his driving duties. Come on, just a little more.

"Michelle!" Barney waddles into view nursing a noticeable bump on his shiny forehead. No, not now, not like this, please! The doors shut. The wheels roll onward. Not when I'm this close!

Removing a sneaker I peg the shoe landing a muddy print on the streak free glass door.

Rrrsh.

Barney is regaining his feet, zig zagging on the road disrupted by trucks that block his frame from view just as the bus comes to a jarring brake. "Bus driver!" I hop over the shoe, catching myself on the rails inside the entrance having finally board the bus. 

"The hell is wrong with you? Do you throw your shoes at every bus you see?" I've never been so close to an African before, but now that I am I don't understand the prejudice against them.

"I'm. Sorry." I puff, passing a hundred dollar bill in his clenched fist which falls open on contact. The hardness in his eyes disappears widening at the money. Only my rapid breathing is audible inside the long vehicle, three sparse commuters onboard keep to themselves buried in their phones or books. 

"I just need a ride, sir." He is stunned by the amount contained in his palm.

"You overpaid." He adds as if returning the note was the most painful thing he could do.

"No I didn't. Keep the change." I say sounding chirpy but the expression doesn't reach my eyes, a single tear forming a line in the grime on my cheek. "Michelle!" A measly metre is the length Barney reaches when the glass doors revolve closed meeting his knuckles. 

The wheels sharply angle us onto the road, gaining speed by the second. We finally lose him due to the interruption of many cars, trucks and vans. "Thank you, so much." I say gripping the nearest handle. He nods silently sporting a lopsided grin.

Jostling left and right I finally land in a chair where I assess the full extent of my injuries. Picking the individual grains of gravel latched in my open knee wounds, plasma seeps down my shin mingling with the blood. 

I fight to keep the grimaces to a minimum, maintaining pressure on my forehead where the hairline starts. It still hasn't hit me that I've escaped... maybe because I still have a long way to travel.

It doesn't feel real. Tenderly resting my ankle on the vacant chair beside me I peel the damp socks below the swollen bump, sensitive to every interruption and pothole we hit on the road.

A rocky start but worth the effort.

I can breathe for the first time, the weight has been lifted from my shoulders and it empowers me. The unfamiliar twinge of my cheeks surrounding my mouth --due to the widest grin I've ever smiled-- is pure ecstasy.

I can start living.