The Road Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

seen a plow except in pictures. I could smell the dirt as it broke up and turned over beneath the blade. As I watched the plow, it was like the clods were trying to escape, but they just broke apart, andthe blade turned them under. Other guys were there with me. They were dressed in old-fashioned clothes, and the older men all had beards. They wore boots, but I was barefoot—I could feel the ground under my feet, pushing up between my toes.”
    â€œYeah? And then what happened?” Shub asked.
    Johnny swallowed. He didn’t like sharing himself with other people, but he felt like he needed to tell someone about this. “The dirt between my toes was almost comforting. Then as I walked, my legs began to sink in, and I felt the strangest sensation. It was like roots began to grow out of the bottom of my feet into the ground. And as they grew, I began to feel…I dunno, empty or lonely. What do you think that was about?”
    Shub stared at Johnny with a strange, sad look on his face. “Wow, that’s heavy, man,” he said slowly. “You know, I kind of understand what you’re talking about.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Johnny asked.
    â€œI grew up on a farm in eastern Washington State,” Shub replied. “When I was a kid, I used to go walk out in the fields after they were plowed. I’d walk way out until I couldn’t see any roads or power lines. I’d take off my shoes and walk in my bare feet in the dirt. It was like I was connected to the land or something. I really loved that place.”
    â€œWhy did you leave?” Johnny asked.
    â€œI don’t really know,” Shub said sadly. “I just kind of drifted away.”
    Shub sat quietly for a minute and then pushed away from the table and stood up. “Behave now,” he said with a crooked smile. “See you tonight.”
    Then Shub walked away, and as he watched him go, Johnny had an empty feeling in his heart.

C HAPTER F OUR
    The Long and Winding Road

    A T SEVEN O ’ CLOCK , Johnny pulled up at the corner of Fell and Stanyan, and Shub climbed into the van with a large leather briefcase in his hand.
    â€œLet’s go, my man,” he said, and Johnny headed for Nineteenth Avenue.
    The drive was uneventful. Johnny followed Highway 1 until they came to a motel on the south side of Pacifica near Devil’s Slide. They pulled into the parking lot, and Johnny stayed in the van while Shub went inside.
    â€œKeep the motor running,” he said as he climbed out. “I don’t trust these guys.” He opened his jacket to show Johnny the butt of a revolver in the inside pocket.
    â€œWait a minute, Shub,” Johnny said. “I didn’t know there were going to be guns involved.”
    â€œListen, kid,” Shub growled. “When you’re dealing with this much money, you always come prepared. Don’t worry. I’ll be out in about five minutes, and we’re outta here.”
    Johnny sat in the van and watched as the fog rolled in from theocean. The yellow streetlamps became fuzzy glows, barely visible in the dark. Cars whizzed by, headed down the coast or into the city. The neon motel sign flashed on and off, on and off, the green letters flickering strangely in the mist.
    A sudden chill ran down Johnny’s back. He tensed for a moment but then relaxed and stretched his shoulders. The van’s engine puttered quietly away. Johnny’s ears perked up when he thought he heard raised voices. At first they were indistinct. He rolled down the window to hear better, and then he heard someone shout, “He’s got a gun!”
    Then Johnny heard a gunshot, followed by more yells. The door of the room burst open and Shub came running out, followed a few seconds later by a tall man. Shub ran to the van, pulled open the passenger door, and tossed in the briefcase.
    â€œTake off, Johnny! They’re on to me!”
    Shub started to climb in when three