Hitchhikers Read Online Free PDF Page B

black
Polaroid camera half hidden under the bed catches my eyes.
    I pull it out, and with it find a stack of
photographs.
    The first few I look at are obviously from
some other scene, boys cuffed to the bed looking at the cameras
with scared eyes and gagged mouths, or unconscious. I barely
recognize myself among these, ribs countable and arms like thin
sticks, eyes open and glazed over and bugging out.
    With trembling hands I slide this photo out
of the way and look at the next.
    It’s blurry and I can barely tell what I’m
looking at. But it’s not a boy. Maybe the perv’s dog or something.
I nearly collapse in relief but remember the blood puddles on the
rug and keep myself up with shaking legs. I tuck the photos in the
front pocket of the sweatshirt and leave the room.
    It’s important to keep out of sight. I hide
behind the van, peeking through the windows to the office. Then I
walk back to the end of the motel, around room 8 which is likely
unoccupied judging from the lack of cars in the parking lot. I
crouch lower than the windows along this back wall and creep around
the L-shaped building, praying no one will come out of the back
doors.
    And I’m back on the road.
     
     

 
-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