Wander over Yonder

Chapter 1

One day, Randy was sitting in his room. He was cleaning some of his dirty, mud-caked shoes while one of his Exodus records played. He had his hair up in a ponytail, and a plan on his mind. Randy didn't quite like living in this small, low quality apartment with his mom, aunt, and brother. In fact, he didn't even really like the area. His aunt was quite supportive of his aspirations and tastes, while his mom and brother couldn't hate it less. Randy was looking to live a more free life anyways, always sick of his overprotective, overbearing mother. Half the time, Randy couldn't even see his friends, for she couldn't trust him enough to be alone. She regularly snooped thru his stuff. She also regularly read back and criticized the lyrics to some of his favorite albums. With the convincing of his aunt, however, Randy was able to keep the records. The plan he had, however, was to run away and see what happened from there. When he fully pearled up his favorite sneakers, he yanked the bag of money from under his bed. Randy has stolen money from his mother over the years, just to get back (and you wonder why she doesn't trust him.) just for an occasion like this. So, randy sorted it out and shoved it in his wallet. He also took his ID, but debated on actually bringing it. Be brought a few Band-Aids and thought about the right time. He decided, fuck it, and not to leave a note too. Whatever makes his mother more guilty.
'I really am rotten,' he thought to himself. 'A rotten little boy. Oh well. That's what she gets for feeding me everything organic, non GMO, block schedule meals.'
Randy shoved his wallet in his pocket, undid and brushed his hair out and slowly crept his way thru the living room. Luckily they had carpet, but to avoid noise, he held his shoes by the strings. He very slowly made his way outside and closed the door. He jumped around to put his shoes on, and grabbed the railing to the outside hall violently, almost making the millions of miniature succulents fall a story down. He tied his shoes up, patted his favorite Slayer shirt off, straightened his patches shorts and made his way down the stairs quickly. He figured the best way to get around was hitch hiking. Randy walked down the halls and peeked at the sky before opening the apartment complex gate and walking down the road. His neighbors were quite used to him sneaking out, too. Randy walked down the sidewalk and made his way down the neighborhood, eventually stopping at a park for a break. He enjoyed the sun as he held his thumb up for a ride. He waited a few minutes and thought about what he was gonna do when he got to where he was satisfied. A million thoughts went thru his mind when a car pulled up. A man, about 30 or so, turned his radio down. He was well dressed, and professional. Something about him made Randy cringe.

'Hey, bud. Need a ride?' the man said.

Randy watched enough horror movies to know where this was going, in fact, he thought that it would turn out like Jeffery Dahmer's case. But Randy overthinks.
He casually shrugged and hopped in the passenger side. Randy put his seatbelt on, but the man held his hand out. Randy awkwardly and loosely shook it.

'My names Felix. Pleasure to meet you, kid.' He said in a casual tone. Randy had a bad feeling in his gut.

'Nice to meet you, too, man. I'm Randy. Say, sir, where are you off to?' Randy asked.

'Well I mean, I'm off towards the dessert. If that's the place you wanna be, then, that's where I'll take you.'

Immediately Randy started to relax, because he didn't really mind where he ended up. He just hoped it wasn't somewhere shady. They eventually took off, Randy bouncing his leg and looking out the window, and the radio on to fill his head. They were silent the whole ride. In the town that Randy lived in, he didn't stick out too horribly. They were used to crackheads and expressive people. It's just, Randy felt as if he was the only metalhead, so he stuck out to an extent. It's not too hard to point out a teen with long black hair in an oversized Slayer shirt. Especially since he was known for helping people out (although his mother forced him.) He thought of himself. He normally wore his rare band tees he spent an arm and a leg for at shows. He also has grown his hair out and fried it from straightening. He had navy green shorts, of which had patches his aunt sewn on for him. He also had a chain he stole from his brother. He had 4 pairs of the same hot pink socks, wellz black with a hot pink flame. He always wore those 4 pairs. He had a few pairs of sneakers. Randy would admit, yes, he's a smelly teen. But he cared for his skin quite a lot, it was his secret interest. So you can never call him greasy. His medicine cabinet says so. He thought to himself until Felix spoke up.

'Whyre you hitchhiking anyways?' he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

'Well sir, I want to escape my overbearing mother.' Randy responded. Trying to sound well mannered and polite. Felix thought for a moment.

'Well that's no good. I'll never judge you tho. I ran away at 18, because my dad, well, was a drunk.' Felix said, nervously laughing.
Randy tried to pass off back with a nervous laugh and looked back out the window. At this point, they had been in the desert for a while now. Randy twittled his thumbs. He left early in the morning. He checked the radio clock, it was about 12:00 PM now. He licked his lips nervously. Felix looked over at Randy.

'Hey kid. You hear bout the guy on the loose?' Felix asked nervously. Randy looked at him concerned. Okay, maybe he was going to end up on a true crime documentary. He shook his head slowly. Felix looked like he's seen a ghost. Randy watched him fumble thru his pockets and center console before he held his gun up to him. Randy's heart sank, and he quickly unbuckled the seat belt.

'Dont you go anywhere, man! Wait till I get to the nearest police station, murderer!' You can tell he wasn't prepared or ever dealt with something like this. If Randy really wanted to he could drop Felix in his own car but he's never been held at gun point. He was confused and scared as to why he was being called a murderer. He tried opening the door, but Felix locked it. Adrenaline kicked in. Randy elbowed his window in and kicked the glass out, quick enough to also pull the gun out of his unprepared hands and throw it out the window, he crawled out (while getting his hair yanked,) and fell on his knees as he tumbled a bit. He was in horrible pain as his knees were scraped against the glass and road. He rolled onto his back, ignored the gun on the sidewalk and groaned in paint while laying on the road. He noticed he had fallen in front of a gas station too, but he rested for a few minutes as a stinging pain rang thru his knees. He gritted his teeth, and stood up. Randy looked at the gun on the floor but ignored it again and dragged his way into the gas station, seeing a nice 1959 cadillac. It was blue, too. I guess the owner was inside the station, so he opened the doors and limped in.  There was no sign of anyone. He looked around and saw that there was no clerk. Randy walked up and down the isles to try to find any water he ran rinse his knees off with, but found a man by the post card racks. He was slowly turning the rack around, looking at the cards. He jumped when he saw Randy. The man was normal height, had a big afro and heart sunglasses. He had chocolate skin, a silk button down, black jeans and dress shoes. The man was relived to see Randy, too.

'Oh shit! You scared me. What are you doing, bud? Where's your parents? Where's- what happened to your knees!? Oh shit!' He walked over to Randy. Randy looked at him - they didn't seem far in age. Randy was short.

'Well, uh, I ran away, and hitchhiked. And I was called a murderer and held at gunpoint, but the guy didn't know how to hold a gun so I took it from him, broke and crawled out his window. But, like, I don't really know why. I guess someone was going around,' I responded. 'But I have no clue. The news is for losers.'

The man looked worried. 'Well,' he said.
'My name is Roman. Let's get you cleaned up, and you are?' he said, holding his hand out.

Randy hesitantly shook his hand and smiled. 'My names Randy.'

They walked over to the counter, Randy jumped up, hissed in pain and waited. He pulls the Band-Aids out if his pocket, and Roman walked over with a bottle of water and some napkins. He washed the scraps off and pulled the glass out. Randy teared up, and eventually they out the Band-Aids over.

'Wheres the phone?' Randy asked. Roman shrugged. 'I don't know, but by the sound of that, you better hit the road Randy. You don't want Felix coming back.'