Runaway

Part Three

I cannot tell if the road is rough or if the bartender's car is in serious need of service, but we keep heading down the empty highway- bouncing more than driving. He is good at keeping up the small talk, and I am trying my best to keep up with him. He does not ask too many questions about my personal life even though I feel he wants to, and I appreciate that about him. The people of this state have a kinder way about them and it makes me wonder why I wanted to leave. But I am here now, circumstances considered.

The truck stop he is taking me to starts to become visible in the distance; the fifteen or so pumps towering above the few other one story buildings in the area, backed by a reddish-brown landscape. I can see several trucks parked in the back; the owners of them are most likely inside ordering from the fast food stand attached to the convenience store. I almost want to tell him to drop me off where we are how I did with Todd, but I let him pull up to the front of the store instead.

"I know Jenny who works behind the counter" he points past a poster for a thirty-two ounce soda for just ninety-nine cents at a woman with short blonde hair, "don't worry about them giving you trouble for loitering or whatever. Jenny says this is hitchhiker central, people are always coming here looking for a ride." I want to laugh at this because that is what this type of place is best for, but if someone is not used to looking for a ride they might not think about it; so I thank him for the useless information and we part ways.

I set up shop on the side of the building facing all the trucks. There is already a cardboard sign in my pack that says 'need ride south' that I take out along with my water bottle, setting them down in front of myself. I put my pack in-between me and the wall and rest my spine against it. I do not bother the folks that pass by, I know anyone who would be willing to give me a ride will come to me. Most of the time they do it for the company; it can get lonely being by yourself for days on end where the only thing that keeps you going is the change of scenery. I can relate.

Sometimes I catch a ride really quick, but this is not one of those times. Lots of people come and go, but no interest is being shown. A dingy white truck with Connecticut plates whips into a spot nearby. A man with a severe limp gets out. It seems like he may be interested, but also appears to be in a hurry so he walks right past me, and comes back out the store and leaves as quickly as he arrived. One lady brings me a granola bar and a bottle of water she bought for me, which is sweet of her. The smile we shared is genuine. I am starting to feel uncomfortable about being in the same spot for so long. I know there are people looking for me, although I am not sure if they even have a clue of who I am. But more bodies have definitely been stumbled upon by now, and the blood is on my hands. I'm using a safety pin to scrape the rest of it out from under my nails while I sit and wait.