Runaway

Part One

I remember going to bed in a sweatshirt and tucked into my sleeping bag, but now I am waking up with half my clothes on and the bag unzipped all the way. I question why I am soaking wet, and then realize how hot the room is. I did not give it much thought last night when I was settling in; an attic in a southern New Mexico house might be cool when it's dark out but that won't last once the spring sun rises. I can hear the dryness of my mouth as I open and close my lips. My eyes search in a panic for my water bottle. I scramble over to my backpack to chug down the remaining one eighth of a cup of warm water that I spot sticking out of the side pocket.

I get up and brush the dirt I wore to bed off my clothes. I had been walking down the side of the highway for a while last night, and it was pretty windy out. I tighten the bandana I have on around my neck. When I feel I am presentable enough to find my way downstairs to the kitchen I open the door and go down the narrow stairway. I can hear every step I take which means the others probably are able to as well. When I get to the bottom of the stairs and open the second door I hear voices below. I follow them to the kitchen, where the one man named Frank I met last night sits at a table with a woman and another man, who is pouring himself a cup of coffee. The woman, presumably Frank's wife since he had mentioned he had one sleeping up stairs when we had gotten here, stops her story as she notices me standing in the doorway.

"Ah Janet, Todd, this is that boy I told you about, Charlie right," he says this as a question but does not give me a second to respond, "Yeah I saw him walking down the road at nearly two in the morning and I tell you I haven't seen a boy look so tired since the days when Todd, Jon, and I- Jon being our other brother, worked our asses off on our parents farm. And you know what Ma would say at the end of the day? Right after she finished dinner she would holler 'PAY DAY' boy she thought that was so darn funny," Frank gets out the last few words along with some laughs, ones that Janet joins in on. Todd has a half smile on his face, but does not seem amused.

"It's Charles, Sir. Thank you again for letting me stay the night, Lord knows my legs needed the rest. Could I trouble you for some water before I get going?" I hold up my empty bottle. Frank looks either concerned or upset; it is hard to tell since the man has an overly expressive face.

"Leaving so soon? Where you trying to hoof too anyway, the next town ain't for another seventeen miles or so," Frank says with a chuckle, "hell we already let you stay the night, might as well give you a ride too. Todd just fixed up his truck I'm sure he don't mind, don't you Toddy?"

"Guess I don't," Todd says with a tone that sounds like he does mind quite a bit. I give him a smile and a nod but Todd does not notice, he is already heading out of the kitchen. Frank then pulls out a chair and tells me to take a seat while Janet fixes me a plate of food because apparently I look like I have not had a meal in ages. It had not been that long, but it has been a few days since I've had what I would consider a meal; and the plate Janet brings me is a feast. I try to have the best table manners I can but it is hard to not shovel down the pile of scrambled eggs and blow through the absurd amount of bacon as if I have to worry about someone pulling it away from me.

When my plate is clean enough for Janet to make a joke about putting it straight back in the cabinet, Todd calls from outside for us to get a move on. I pick up my pack and thank Janet for her hospitality, and reluctantly give her the big hug she wants to part ways with. Frank and I go out to the truck that Todd already has started. We jump in and pull out onto the road, kicking up a cloud of dust as we drive off. The windows are down which covers up most of the country music playing on the radio. Todd does not talk at all but Frank is taking care of that for him, going on and on about his farm and family members. His stories are not very entertaining, but they sure beat the hell out of silence. Frank is in the middle of a classic tale about the time his Ma caught him riding one of the steers when Todd cuts him off.

"What are you heading to Artesia for?" he asks, his eyes in the rear view looking straight into mine.

"Just trying to make my way down south to see some family," I say hoping that is all the information he needs. Apparently it is not, and with his eyes still on me he continues this sudden interrogation.

"Visiting family, huh? What sort of family makes someone as young as you walk down a highway in the middle of the night?" Frank is giving him a look of disapproval, and Todd is giving him one back that tells him to mind his own business. Then his eyes go back to mine.

"It's a surprise visit, and I don't have much in the way of funds to get there, but my grandma is sick and doesn't have a lot of time. And I'm not that young sir, I'm twenty-three," I say, relaxing my vocal cords to speak a little deeper.

"Yeah? Voice is kind of high for twenty-three," he says, eyes still on me as he drives down the straight empty road.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I break eye contact and turn my head towards the window. My hands are trembling, but I tuck them in-between my thighs to keep them still. The truck is quiet now; Frank does not seem to have any childhood story to use as a comment on the conversation. I try to think of something else besides how much this situation is aggravating me. I try to think of my grandma. I try to think about if she is going to recognize me, but I cannot. All I can think about is how much blood came pouring out of that man's neck when I had stabbed him, and the sounds he had made choking on his blood instead of being able to cry out.