Chapter 49

 

 

Following the snowplow was a messy business. Foster saw the machine come through Show Low in the early morning hours and made a quick decision. Now or never. He’d cranked up the bus and steered out of the café’s parking lot, leaving Melissa to grab loose items and stow them. After about ten miles of dealing with the coating of road grime that coated his windshield every few moments, he allowed the bus to fall back to about a half-mile behind the plow.

Logistics had never been his friend. The endless details of getting from Point A to Point B, setting up a new show, planning the costumes and having them made—Melissa was much better at those duties. Now, he was preparing for one of their biggest moves of all, and he had kept her in the dark about a lot of it.

During the night he’d been able to receive internet on his phone for a few precious minutes. The company he was renting the container from had responded with an invoice and a note. Send payment now. Ship sails December 31.

He had four days to hit four cities and load a container. He wanted to follow his character Orion’s advice and adopt a peaceful and calm attitude, to live in the moment and not stress over future events. But, hell, that just wasn’t him. Never had been. He kept the radio tuned to a channel with weather reports and said the closest thing he’d ever uttered to a real prayer.

Melissa appeared at the seat beside him, handing over an insulated mug of coffee. “Sun’s barely lighting the sky,” she said. “I didn’t know we were getting such an early start.”

“Had to. It’s the calm between storms, according to the news. We’ve gotta hit Albuquerque, Amarillo and El Paso, then get ourselves to San Diego.” He took a swig of the coffee, and even though it was instant, he was glad she’d had the presence of mind to boil some water on the little two-burner.

“I’ve got good news and better news,” he said. “Before we get to San Diego I want you to go shopping for furniture. Anything you want for the new island house. We’ve got a container that’ll only be a third full with the boxes. We need to fill it up with stuff that really makes it look like we’re moving all our household goods.”

“Sounds like fun.” She beamed her angelic smile at him.

“And the better news is that I’ve found some great choices of islands for sale. I just need you to narrow it down to your favorite.” This last bit definitely fudged the truth, but it was better to keep her upbeat and happy for his next request.

“We’ll need to take turns with the driving,” he told her. “All those stops I told you about—we have four days to do the whole trip.”

She made a face. She hated driving the huge old bus.

“San Diego … shopping for all those fun things …” he reminded.

“Eyes on the goal,” she said. “Okay, we got this thing.”

She got up and went to the tiny refrigerator. “I saved some pastries from that café in Show Low. Want something to go with your coffee?”

“Sure.”

She brought him a cheese Danish on a paper napkin. “I just remembered … did we ever give the Macks their final pay?”

“Yeah, baby. I took care of them.” Something made him think of that guy who’d taken money from the collection baskets then run away, the one he had ordered his men to chase down and ‘teach him a lesson.’ Foster had paid the Macks their salary, but had he remembered to call them off? He took a big bite of the pastry. Oh well, surely they had quit by now. He finished off the cheese Danish and asked if there were any cherry ones.

Melissa took the wheel an hour later and they passed into New Mexico without incident. When they reached Socorro she stopped, declaring it was time for lunch. But Foster didn’t want to take the time at the restaurant where she’d parked the bus. He hopped out and walked to the McDonald’s next door.

“Decision time,” he said when he returned and set the bag of burgers on the table. “Interstate 25 is right here and we need to either head north to Albuquerque or south to El Paso.”

“Isn’t there still snow up north?” she asked.

He consulted his phone and tapped a few links. “Looks like we’re between storms. This last one is hitting Oklahoma now, but another one’s coming. We got a day, maybe two, before it hits.”

He wavered for only a minute, then picked up a Quarter Pounder and a sleeve of fries and carried them to the front. As he took the driver’s seat he turned back to his wife. “Get some rest. The next long stretch will be yours, and it’ll be dark by then.”