Targeted for death by some weird cult and the only one who believed me was locked up in a mental ward and believed in vampires. Splendid.
On top of that, my ribs were still hurting, that lumberjack breakfast was starting to repeat on me, and I was stranded in Fulton.
The last one was easily remedied. I knew someone who’d give me a ride. Turning on my phone, I had ten calls from an unfamiliar number. I dialed it, and wasn’t surprised when Benny, my floor advisor, answered.
“Mr. Schultz, this is Sherman Andrews. I’m stuck in Fulton, can you pick me up?”
There was a pause. “Where are you? I hope you can pack quick, you’re kicked out of the Scholars’ Academy as of today.”
Benny arrived at a mere thirty minutes later, barreling out of his Dodge like an asthmatic rhino. My staying out all night apparently hadn’t set well with him, and he was no longer pretending we were pals.
“Just what the hell were you trying to pull?” he bellowed, as soon as we sped off. “Did you think I was just kidding about curfew? Did you think it applied to everyone but you?”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry?” I half-expected the steering wheel to bend under his grip. “If you hadn’t given me a fake number for your father, your ass would already be at home.”
“Fake?”
“I tried to call him, but got some plumbing service.” He snorted, disgusted.
“That’s Dad. But he’s out of town.”
“It doesn’t matter. Sherman, I’m surprised at you, I thought of all people…”
I muted the lecture. I wondered how sanctimonious he’d feel if the cops had been scraping L.J. and me out of some train wheels.
“I was up all night wondering if I should call the police. So what was so important? A party? Some girl?”
That did it. On top of everything else, I was in no mood for a lecture on responsibility.
“Mr. Schultz, did you happen to notice that you picked me up in front of a mental hospital?”
“Excuse me?”
“I was there for my, erm, uncle Denton.”
He looked away from the road to glare at me. “They have all-night visiting hours, do they?”
My mind rattled as I tried to think of a convincing lie (which would be much less bizarre than the truth).
“I was not visiting. I was trying to keep him out of jail. Again.”
Benny didn’t say anything, so I continued, composing as I spoke.
“Uncle Denton has schizophrenia. Hard core. He takes medication, then thinks he doesn’t need it, and gets in trouble. Last night he wound up going into a stranger’s house in the middle of the night. Wandered into a twelve-year-old girl’s room. Mom’s in California and Dad won’t talk to Denton since the divorce, so guess who had to deal with this. I spent all night convincing the girl’s seven-foot-tall father, some redneck cops, and a psychiatrist who barely spoke English that my uncle wasn’t some kind of marauding child rapist.” I was so caught up in my story, I actually managed to feel indignant. “I’m sorry if you had a bad night, but mine was worse.”
We drove in silence for a mile. “You could have told me,” he said, eventually. “I could have helped.”
“Mr. Schultz?” I said, in a high pitched, whiney voice. “Will you come to Fulton to help keep my uncle off the sexual predators list?”
He hung his head a little. I felt guilty for blowing smoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. By the time everything was over, I figured you were in bed.”
“Well, I wasn’t. Sherman, by all rights, I’m supposed to send you home. Family emergency or not, you can’t wander off like that. But…Jesus. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll let it slide. This time, and this time only.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I managed to get about fifteen minutes of sleep on the way back.
I was upset to see that something was taped to my dorm room door. Upon closer inspection, it proved to be a student health pamphlet about herpes. Someone, probably Aaron, had written across it in big letters: Hey, LJ, here’s that info you wanted.
I was too tired to even throw it away. Thankfully, L.J. was not in the room, though his guitar was gone, showing that he’d made it back safely. I owed him a huge explanation, and I wanted to avoid that.
What day was it? Sunday? It didn’t matter. I’d take a short nap, shower, and head to the police station, hopefully not dying on the way. I’d thought about it and it was my only course of action. Whoever these people were, they were going to catch up with me one of these days. I’d only escaped before due to dumb luck.
I carefully placed my notes about Gowen in my stolen attaché case. In an hour I’d go downtown and explain everything.
Of course, tales of cults and murders don’t mean a lot when you don’t have any evidence to back it up. Denton could explain things better than I could, but I knew the odds that he’d be taken seriously.
Plus, there was the matter of the train accident. A guy had died, and leaving the scene of a fatal wreck was a pretty serious crime. I didn’t want L.J. to get in trouble. I could say I’d been driving, but I didn’t have a car.
As I thought about how to leave out my roommate’s involvement, I noticed something on my bed. An envelope. It was from the Journalism School. I wondered what Mr. Hopkins had sent over that he couldn’t have e-mailed.
I opened the letter. It was printed on Mr. Hopkins’s personal stationery, signed with his name, and certainly not from him.
Mr. Andrews,
I must say that your interview with Mr. Smith went smashingly. He is an expert in his field, and I think he was crushed that he couldn’t spend more time with you. Rest assured, I’ve arranged a follow up interview with one of his associates.
At this point, you may be thinking of speaking to Mr. Kopp. I urge you to hold off on that. Mr. Kopp has a way of complicating matters. If you choose to proceed with that interview, I’ll have someone drop his contact information off at your home address.
Here, one of my father’s business cards was stapled to the paper.
I will be in touch shortly.
I crumbled the letter, furious. So if I went to the police, they’d not only go after me, but my father. Those sons of bitches…
I kneaded my eyeballs. I felt sick, depressed. Everything was closing in. They knew my every move, they were one step ahead of me. And I didn’t how or why. I couldn’t talk to the authorities. And I couldn’t hang around here. I was down to my last option.
Run away.
I collapsed on my bed and slept for six hours. Thankfully, L.J. did not return. It was almost dark when I woke up. I changed, then grabbed my few changes of clothes and stuffed them into L.J.’s backpack. Toiletries, my files on Gowen and everyone, and Aaron’s razor.
I strapped on my stolen bag (forgive me, L.J.). I took one last glance at the computer I was leaving behind, and left, not taking my room key.
I walked past the floor lounge, where Aaron and John sat playing cards. Downstairs, where Steph was talking with some friends. Outside, into the balmy July night.
Somewhere out there, someone wanted me dead. If I hung around, they’d succeed, and maybe take my dad out in the bargain. My only hope was to leave the state, lose myself in obscurity. Go somewhere they’d never find me.
And then what? I hadn’t even graduated high school. Flip burgers? Push a mop? Work in a mill? What the hell was a mill, anyway? I wasn’t the rugged type. For years, I’d worked toward the goal of being a respected professional. Someone people would look up to. Now, because of one stupid letter, I was on the run. I’d lost my future, my hopes, my family…
Dad. He’d never stop worrying. Even if I sent him an e-mail, he’d never give up trying to find me, never stop searching. Maybe Mom too, though that was debatable.
I wished I could call him. Just to tell him not to freak out. But Dan had explicitly threatened him. I couldn’t involve him any further. In a year or two, when things died down, we’d get together. Hell, the past couple of years I’d wanted nothing more than to get away from him.
But not like this.
I realized I had no idea where I was walking. The imposing structure of the University Power Plant towered over me. Anything could be lurking in the shadows. I hurried on.
I didn’t have much money on me. Tomorrow, I’d find a branch of my bank and convert my savings into cash. Not very safe, but I couldn’t leave a paper trail with a debit card or travelers’ checks. Years of busting my ass every summer, raking leaves and delivering packages, and now I had to waste it all on escaping.
I hurried toward a lighted street. Funny, I just came to this town. Now I was leaving forever. I’d kind of miss Columbia, and the people I’d met. L.J., Aaron, John, Steph, Charlie…
Charlie. Her name stopped me dead.
She wouldn’t know I’d bugged out. She’d wait for me to call her. She’d try to call me, and think I was avoiding her. After all she’d done for me, she’d think I didn’t care enough to tell her goodbye.
Good. I need to make a clean break of things. Anyone who associated with me was in danger. She needed to just forget about me.
I felt the lump of my cell phone in my pocket, next to the razor. I’d meant to leave it behind, but it had slipped my mind.
Don’t do it, Sherman.
I dialed a number. “Hello, Charlie? Feel like doing something?”
She met me on the crowded corner of Providence and Broadway, parking her tiny car half on the sidewalk. She looked at me oddly.
“Just how long are we going to be out?” she asked, gesturing at my backpack.
I tried to smile. The traffic was making me nervous, I fully expected a bullet to come flying out of a passing car. “Hey, you mind if I drive?”
She started to say something, then slid over to the passenger side. I tossed my bag in the back and scooted behind the wheel.
As I fumbled with the seat adjustment, Charlie cleared her throat. “In case you have any ideas about driving me out to some secluded place and taking advantage of me…” She looked at me severely. “Finger Lakes Park isn’t far from here. Or Rock Quarry Road.” She didn’t smile, but her eyes twinkled. One freckled shoulder popped out of the wide neck of her sweater. I could see the cleft of her arm. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
With trembling hands, I started the car. An older, passably-attractive girl just invited me out to the local lovers’ lane for a night of fun. No strings attached; she knew I’d be going back home in a few weeks.
And there was no way I could take her up on her offer. Driving out to some dark and secluded place…not a chance. I think this pissed me off more than the loss of my education and future.
“Let’s grab a bite.”
Charlie nodded, adjusting her top to a more modest position.
I drove over to the business loop and pulled into Sonic.
“Get me a low-fat frozen yogurt,” instructed my date.
“Two large chocolate malts with M & Ms,” I barked into the speaker. Charlie would never be skinny, so why the hell shouldn’t she enjoy herself? When I glanced over at her, she was grinning, in her odd, scrunched up way. Good call, Sherman.
We sat silently until our order came. “So Sherm,” she said, after licking the ice cream off her straw. “My sister’s in a production of Godspell this Wednesday. Wanna be my date?”
There was no use putting it off. This would be the last time I saw her.
“Sorry, no.”
She missed the seriousness in my voice. Perhaps she chose to miss it. “Yeah, it’s a pretty lame show.”
“Charlie…I, uh, can’t see you anymore.”
I waited for her to demand an explanation, but she just sat there, stirring her malt.
“It’s not that I don’t want to…”
“Take me home, Sherman,” she mumbled, sadly. Well, not so much sadly as resigned.
“It’s just that I have a lot going on…”
She turned to me and narrowed her eyes. “Stuff it, Sherman. I’ve heard this speech enough times that I don’t want to hear it again.” She slammed her cup down into the console. Then she realized it was too big to fit so she sheepishly picked it up again.
I felt awful. A girl of her, um, figure was probably used to guys making excuses. She thought I was just tired of her, or worse, embarrassed.
Good. Then she’ll forget about me. Clean break, Sherman, clean break.
“Charlie, I’m in trouble.” I tried to touch her hand, but she pulled away.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean I’ve gotten in bad with some powerful SOBs. I have to leave the state for a year or so. Get myself lost.”
This time, she reached out for my hand. “That guy at the coffee shop?” The restaurant’s neon sign illuminated the concern in her face.
“He’s one of them. I’m cutting out tonight. I don’t know where I’m going, but I couldn’t leave without…you know, saying goodbye.”
She stared at me for a long time. “I’d think you were bullshitting me, but something tells me you’re serious. What’s this all about?”
I shook my head. “It’s complicated.” You know, train accidents, cults, mental patients, Depression-era murders, stuff like that.
“And you can’t go to the police or anyone?” Her fingers were wrapped in mine.
I shook my head. “Too late for that. Goodbye, Charlie. I’ll miss you.”
We hugged for a long time.
I wanted to lose myself in her soft arms. Just hold her. Forget about my troubles. Somehow, life on the road wouldn’t be so lonely if she was with me.
With me…
Don’t even think about it, Sherman.
It’s a bad idea.
She’ll say no.
I pulled away from Charlie’s embrace, almost violently. I started laughing at the absurdity of my idea.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“Charlie…come with me!” Now that I said it out loud, it didn’t seem so stupid. My desperate flight for my life could easily become a crazy adventure with a wonderful girl. Two wild young people (okay, one wild, one kinda not), off wherever the road takes them. This was the sort of thing other people did. It was stupid and illogical and nuts. But it was right.
Plus, Charlie had a car. It would save me the hassle of a Greyhound.
She was looking at me with a mixture of shock and suspicious. “Sherman, I’ve known you for one week. I…” She petered off, her objections losing momentum. I placed my arm around her bare shoulder.
“Charlie, have you ever wanted to do something just completely wild? Just forget about everything, hit the road, no thought of tomorrow? Everyone wants to do that.” Well, not me, but she probably had more of a spontaneous side.
Charlie looked like a news anchor on fast forward, she cycled through expressions so rapidly. “My God, you’re serious. Why…why me?”
Because you’re cute and you’re the only one who might say yes. “Because I really like you and I can’t hang around to see where this goes. I’m willing to abandon everything, but I don’t want to give up you. Not if I don’t have to.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Sherman…but…I’m starting college in a few months.” She was crushing her styrofoam cup. Ice cream ran down her wrist.
“So start it next year. Or whatever, it’s not important.” Wow. Never thought I’d say that. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen. Um, in eight months.”
“You realize this is the one chance you’ll have to do something like this? Once you enroll in school, you’ll be too busy. And then you’ll have a job, and a house, and before you know it you’ll be forty years old with three kids and an ex-husband. I know you like me. Drop off the grid with me for a year. If you get sick of me you can always go back home. Let’s watch the sunrise in another time zone. What do ya say?” I hoped my smile was beguiling, and not, as I feared, psychotic.
“Sherman, you’re the last guy I ever expected to…” She trailed off again and was silent for a bit. Her breath came rapidly. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She swallowed, then opened her mouth again.
I had the feeling a rejection was about to come out, so I quickly blocked her mouth with my lips. She made a surprised noise and dropped her malt to the floor. I placed my hands on her shoulders and didn’t pull away until I felt the tenseness in her muscles relax.
“Let’s go,” she said, her voice barely a squeak.
We held hands as I pulled back onto the loop. Good God, what a difference a week makes! Instead of worrying about my future, I was worrying that I wouldn’t have one. Instead of taking things slowly and methodically, I was hitting things fast and without worry. And instead of kissing Dr. Hopkin’s butt, I was kissing Charlie’s face. That last one, at least, was an improvement.
Charlie was mumbling, half to herself. “OhmygodohmygodIcan’tbelieveI’mdoing thisohmygodmygod…” Her eyes were huge, her face red, her mouth in a dopey grin.
I rolled down the window and let the crisp night air fill the car. This was all going to work out. I hugged my new partner, picturing her waitressing at some Alabama truck stop as I worked at a car factory. Me carrying a load of logs into a secluded Wyoming cabin while she cooked supper. I also imagined the roadside motel we’d stay at tomorrow night, where we could have another type of adventure.
There was a full moon out. I rolled down the window, squeezed Charlie’s hand, and braced myself for an unexpected future.