On The Road Again...

“Promise you won’t be gone for a long time?”

We were curled up on one of the couches in the rec room, oblivious (for now) to the tiny tears our exoskeletons made in the fabric. You could tell which chairs and sofas were preferred by the poleepkwa who worked at the base—after a while they looked moth-eaten and gnawed by the small puncture wounds unknowingly produced by spines.

Jack, Jill and I were all huddled together in a collection of shell plates, warmth, and comfort. Jack blinked up at me with wide eyes as Jill tugged at my vestigial arms playfully. His voice was wavering. “Promise you’ll be back soon?”

A small brown knapsack—borrowed from ARFA’s locker room—lay at my feet; my tattered overcoat (found in a trashcan in d10) was on my back. It was the little things that broke apart the happiness of the moment, the tiny indications that no matter how wonderful this frame of time was, it would have to end soon. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around them both and smiled wanly as they snuggled in close and warbled quietly. They were always so happy if someone hugged them, even if they were worried before...it’s as if that simple embrace has the power to erase the worst of fears and anxieties. Vishnu, they were my little angels, love and intelligence in poleepkwan form. The sentimentality is well-deserved for them—I don’t lie when I say that, or think it. It’s true, every single word.

Quietly I spoke, eyes darting around to check if anyone was listening in. Nobody should know ahead of time what I had planning, except my children. I didn’t want to cause unnecessary worry or goad someone into coming along by accident. Quickly in, quickly out, and it would be over; ideally that was the way this was going to work out. “I promise. I’ll be back Monday, maybe even sooner. I won’t be gone long.” My grin grew in earnest. “Hey, we’ll even watch a movie when I’m back here. How does that sound?”

They were enchanted by the idea, and began babbling excitedly. My practiced antennae managed to pick up their individual statements even when they spoke at the same time.

“Ooh—ooh—can it be the Jungle Book?”

“Can Judith watch too?”

“And Jake?”

“Jake’s got a lot of bruises, have you noticed, Jack?”

“Yeah. I think Judith’s—“

“I’ve got to go…” Carefully I moved them to the side, off of my lap, and sadly hugged them one last time. “I’ve got a train to catch.” I broke off the sentence there…they didn’t need to know that I’d quite literally be doing that. Better for them to think I paid for my ticket, or was given a ride.

Jill and Jack watched me leave the room, clutching onto each other with the space I had occupied still between them. I was strangely heartbreaking to watch—as if they would stay that way for the rest of the weekend, waiting for me to return and slide back into place so everything would be normal and happy. Secretly a part of me hoped that that was true, and they would wait. They’d wait, and know without a doubt that I’d come back.
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“Six-fifty. Damn, you’re far from home.”

I grimaced and jotted something down on a notepad: ‘you could say that, but I’d rather you didn’t. I won’t bother you. I just want the food.’ I didn’t expect anyone to understand me here, so I’d had the foresight to bring along plenty of pens and a pad of paper for communicating. Pulling the crumpled wad of bills from my backpack, I held up seven of them and passed them over to the tanned, weary man. Luckily he didn’t object to their ratty condition. Vishnu was on my side in that respect—I’d had no time or means to tidy them up. His wrinkled face split oven in a gap-toothed smile; money was money, and I’d given him more then he’d asked for. Good—that meant I might actually get the beef jerky I’d been eying.

The old man grinned and pocketed my money, then passed over the bag of jerky, winking at me with a slightly filmy eye. “Who’s going to listen to an old guy like me? Go on, mister alien. I won’t tell a soul. There’s no-one here who’d believe me anyway.” He croakily laughed and swept an arm out to encompass the dry landscape. “’Cept maybe those folks in that building east of here. I reckon you’ve heard of them.”

Was he talking about ARFA? Hopefully not. The base was supposed to be secret. I shrugged and bolted, stuffing the remaining money and jerky into my backpack. Now I had food, and therefore one less worry.

I caught the train later as it sped by. It’s a simple method, albeit dangerous. You jump up, grab onto anything you can get at and climb onto the top of a boxcar, keeping your grip against the howl of air moving past you as the train speeds ahead. It’s terrifying, it really is, and I hope I don’t have to do this very often. I read about it from books written during the Great Depression, though it’s a lot easier said—or read—then done. Vishnu granted me another boon today: there was an opening in one of the boxcars that enabled me to drop in. Right now I’m huddled amidst boxes of I don’t know what, typing away at this little phone and watching the service indicator in case it runs out. There are two bars left out of five, so I better hurry this up.

I’m fine; I’m about to cross the state border and go into Arizona. My destination is Scottsdale, though I’ll end up in Flagstaff beforehand. There’s been…well, I’ve gotten word from my parent, about my parent. The people that owned me finally decided to contact me via email (I guess they read the blog) and say they’re willing to point me to the guy they bought me from. This is, quite possibly, some of the stupidest things I’ve done, I know it, but if this turns out good…I could at least learn about my real parent, if not see them.

One bar left. I’ve got to go. Good night, everybody, and see you Monday.