The Drifter Ch. 05

After a few minutes of embracing each other, I lifted my head and smiled into her eyes.

"We'll make it."

She looked up at me and smiled. "I know!"

By eight, we were on the road. I had made coffee over the fire and surprised Carla with apple cinnamon muffins I bought at the convenience store the day before. I made more coffee and filled the thermos.

We were heading towards the Black Mountains. When we crossed the Colorado River, I noticed it seemed shallow and remembered reading with alarm how more and more water had been used for irrigation during the droughts and was being diverted to California because of water shortages and the river was barely a trickle before reaching the Gulf of Mexico.

"See how low the river is. That's serious."

"I know. My grandpa talks about the drought a lot. He's worried. All the ranchers are." As we crossed the bridge, Carla stared at the river then looked at me as if trying to read my mind. I closed my eyes at the thought of the water crisis not only there but all around the world. I shook my head then turned to her. "It's only going to get worse."

In the distance we could see Mount Perkins. I knew we should stock up with water because once over the mountain we would be in the Mojave Desert and in eastern California. I also knew I was low on gas and hoped we would find a gas station where we could also fill up some jugs with water.

We pulled into an old dusty gas station on the outskirts of Oatman, Arizona. It was a pretty dilapidated town that had once been a thriving place because of the gold mines. Now it was practically a ghost town. Oatman was like a lot of towns that were boom towns when the mines were attracting businesses, but then faded into obscurity when the mines closed.

After driving through a mostly boarded up town with a small grocery store that was opened and, a few doors away, The Gold Nugget Saloon. I chuckled at the faded name over the front door that was badly needing paint. Every other place was closed. On the outskirts of the town was an old gas station with the sign, Gus's Gas Station and Auto Repair hung on a post just off the highway. It had two pumps and seemed like a gas station from another era. An open sign was in the window and I noticed an old Esso sign leaning against the side of the garage. The small dilapidated building had a few loose boards and faded yellow paint.

When I pulled up next to one of the pumps, a small boy in jeans and a torn pale green T-shirt came out of the building. He had long blond hair that came down near his shoulders and a yellow baseball cap which he wore backwards. I glanced up and saw an old bald headed man standing in the doorway, watching. He wore a short sleeved tan shirt, black baggy pants that were worn out at the knees and held up with black suspenders. He was a small man, thin and wiry with a narrow face and dark bags under his eyes. He looked weary as he leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

The boy came around to my door. "How much gas do you want, mister?"

"Fill'er up," I said, surprised that a kid was going to pump gas rather than it being the computerized self-serve gas stations I was used to.

I got out of the truck and noticed Carla looking at the old man standing in the doorway.

"I'm going to check the oil," I said to the boy.

"I'll do it, mister. That's my job."

"Thanks," I said and watched him lift the hose from the old pump.

I could see it was heavy for him, but he managed to pull it to my gas tank and started pumping. I looked around and noticed several piles of tires next to an old tow truck parked alongside of the building. The wide door to the garage was half open. Next to the front door sat an old red soda case and I wondered if it was empty or filled with ice cold bottles of soda, then doubted it. Two rickety wooden chairs were on the other side of the front door and I imagined the old man and the boy sitting there watching the traffic go by.

I looked at the boy holding the nuzzle of the hose and guessed he was twelve or younger and wondered why he was here pumping gas and not in school.

"What's your name?" I asked, standing next to him.

"Fred." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to know. I'm not used to seeing a kid your age pumping gas."

"Well, I've been helping Jim." He looked up at the old man standing in the doorway. "This is his place."

"Cool."

I looked up at Jim with his hands in his pocket, watching us. I noticed he was looking at Carla in the truck and wondered whether he was recognizing her.

"Well,it's good that your helping him. Are you related to him?"

"No, he's just a friend. I like helping him and he shows me lots of stuff about cars. I like cars and learning how to fix things."

"Do you go to school?"

"I'm supposed to, but I don't go. This is better." He took the hose away from the gas tank and put it back where it belonged. "You're full now."

"Does your mom know you're not in school?"

"Don't have a mom or a dad. Jim kind of took me in."

"Really. I'm sorry you don't have a mom or dad."

I glanced at Jim lighting up a cigarette. Fred didn't say anything and I was reluctant to ask more.

"I'll check the oil," he said and went to the front of the truck. I opened the door and released the hood.

Just then Carla got out of the truck. "I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Once the hood was up, I stood next to the boy while he looked for the oil stick. I watched Carla go up to Jim in the doorway. When she spoke, he nodded and pointed with his thumb to the side of the building but didn't speak. When she walked away, he watched her for a second or two, then looked back at what Fred was doing.

"You're oil's okay, mister." He showed me the stick.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked when he put the hood down.

"Thirty-five dollars and seventy-two cents." He didn't look at the pump to check the amount and I could see he was a smart boy.

"Okay, my friend is going to pay when she comes out of the bathroom," I said and followed him up to the where Jim was standing.

"Pretty woman, you got with you," Jim said.

"Thanks. Looks like your gas station is the last of a kind. I don't see gas stations like this anymore where someone actually pumps gas and checks the oil."

"Hey Fred." He turned to the boy. "Didn't you forget to wash his windshield?"

"Oh, right. I did. I'll do it now." He looked up at me. "Sorry."

I turned and watched him run back to my truck just as Carla came around from the side of the building. Jim watched her walking towards us but didn't say anything. Again, I wondered if he recognized her.

"Fred's a good kid..learns fast and I like having him around."

We watched Fred spray the windshield and wipe it with a rag he had in his pocket.

"He's had a rough time. Too bad about his parents. They were both drunks and then his father stabbed his mom in a big fight...killed her and he's in prison for life and now Fred lives here in the backroom where I live."

"I'd think some agency would be taking care of him," Carla said.

"They found a home for him but he hated it and took off." He took a deep breath and a puff from his cigarette.

"Aren't they looking for him? Do they know he's here," I asked.

"Nope." He looked at Fred. "They don't know where he is. He's kinda hiding here. Fact is he can learn more here than in school. Good thing we both like to read. I have a pretty good library in the back."

"Really. That's good. So you kind of adopted him. Is that right?"

"I think we adopted each other." Jim said. "He kind of showed up like a stray cat and started hanging around. He loves cars and I'm teaching him what I know, but who knows what's going to happen when I'm not around."

"It's interesting how people find each other." I glanced at Carla and I thought about how we had found each other two days ago and now we were on the run with the police after me. She looked at me and I wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

"Yeah, it's interesting how life happens." Jim said, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"So how much do we owe you?" Carla asked.

Fred had joined us in front in the doorway and Jim asked him what the gas cost.

"Thirty-five-seventy two."

Carla opened up her backpack and took out her wallet, counted out the money and handed it to Jim. Just then, her cell phone rang. She glanced at it and closed her eye as if shutting out reality, then listened to the message.

"On no," she gasped when she closed her phone. "They found your old truck and the guy told them what happened. The police have the license number."

"Hey, what's going on. Why are the police after you?" Jim looked at me.

"That's not good...Damn!"

I was surprised that she said anything out loud but turned to Jim. "It's a long story."

"Are you outlaws?" Jim scratched his face and looked at Carla.

"No we're not outlaws," Carla said. "He's helping me like you're helping Fred."

"I don't get what you mean. Why are the cops after you?"

"My mom thinks he kidnapped me so she called the police, but I'm running away and he's helping me. It's hard to explain. I'm not being kidnapped."

Jim didn't say anything, but looked at me and Carla, then nodded. He glanced at Fred and rubbed his chin. I could see he was trying to figure out what was going on.

"So you're like Romeo and Juliet...star crossed lovers." He chuckled.

"I'd say we're more like Bonnie and Clyde except we aren't bank robbers." I was surprised he knew that line from Romeo and Juliet.

"Oh right. Bonnie and Clyde. I heard about them. They robbed a bank near here once...that was in the thirties...during the Depression."

"What should we do?" Carla asked.

"I don't know for sure. We could take a chance and see if we can make it to Bolinas, or we should hide out for awhile some place?"

I noticed Fred listening and look at Carla.

"Maybe it's none of my business, miss, but why are you running away from home?"

Carla glanced at me before answering. "I just needed to get away from how I was living. I wasn't happy trying to fit it."

"That's why I ran away," Fred said, looking up at Jim then back at Carla. "I hated where they made me live."

"I guess I'm running away too," I added.

"Where did you say you was heading?" Jim asked.

"Bolinas."

"Bolinas...where the hell is that?"

"Northern California...just above San Francisco."

Jim nodded, took a deep weary sigh, then sat down on one of the chairs and took out another cigarette.

"You won't make it in that truck. They'll catch you." Jim said. "You might have to hide out somewhere 'till you can get another truck or change license plates."

"You're probably right." I looked at Carla.

"Where can we hide?" Carla asked.

I glanced over at the truck parked by the gas pump. I knew kidnapping a women was considered big news and there would be interviews with a frantic mother and soon everyone would be on the lookout for me. Carla's face and the sketch of me would be on television and in newspapers. I looked at Carla's frightened face and wondered if I had made a huge mistake taking her, but also knew I was falling in love with her.

"I think I know where you can hide," Jim said. "It might be a little strange, but I know this woman Anna who would hide you—she's a character that's for sure...but no would find you there."

Carla and I glanced at each other but didn't speak. Both of us were thinking about what Jim was suggesting.

"Where is she? Is it far from here?" I asked.

Jim pointed to the Black Mountains. "Maybe forty miles over the mountain...Near Death Valley in the desert. She's in an old ghost town called Hesterville, but she changed the name to Avalon...don't know why." Jim puffed on his cigarette. "If you make it there, you'll be set for awhile."

"Avalon," I repeated. "How could she change the name of a town?"

"She just did." Jim shrugged. "She's a strange one and just does what she wants to."

I knew we were near the Mojave Desert and remembered I wanted to fill up our jugs with water.

"Carla, if we hide out with her we'd be a day or so from Santa Monica. Then we'd have to go up the coast to reach Bolinas, what do you think?"

"How can we find her?" Carla asked Jim.

"I'll give you directions. Tell her Jim sent you. She knows me and you're not the first folks I sent to her. By the way, she's kind of an outlaw too."

The more he spoke, the more fascinated I was, but more than that--we had to find a place to hide.

"Mind if I fill up a jug or two of water," I asked.

"Well, just a jug or two but no more. Water is getting scarce these days. Don't want my well to run dry."

"I'll get the water," Carla said and ran to the truck.

"How do you know this woman if she lives on the other side of the mountain in the desert."

"Well, she stopped here about five, maybe six years ago. Her car broke down right in front of here and I had to fix her Buick. She said she used to be a ballet dancer in New York and was on her way to Hollywood."

"So why is she living near Death Valley in the desert?"

"You'll see when you meet her." Jim chuckled and took a deep draw on his cigarette then coughed. "She's a character though. We became friends when she invited me out there to see what she was doing. That was two years ago. Craziest thing I ever saw, but she'll hide you."

"Interesting. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"She was pretty famous according to the newspaper articles she showed me in this big scrapbook...a big star in ballet...Just tell her Jim sent you."

When Carla returned with two jugs of water, we said goodbye to Jim and Fred and pulled out onto Route Sixty-six and headed for the Black Mountains. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the two of them standing by the front door. Jim had his hands in his pocket and Fred waved.

When the gas station faded from view, Carla looked over at me.

"Are you sorry you took me with you and now the police are looking for you?"

"No, I'm not sorry. I just hope we don't get caught."

She reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.

While driving, I made sure I stayed within the speed limit and kept my eyes on the look out for police cars but didn't see any. We drove up the steep, twisting roads climbing the mountain and stopped near the top to look out at the Mojave Desert in the distance.

"Why would anyone choose to live in a ghost town?" Carla asked.

"We'll find out soon." Sitting in the truck, I looked out at the wide, flat and dry panorama stretching as far as I could see. I was quiet and absorbing the mysterious beauty of the desert.

After five minutes, I turned on the ignition. Driving down the steep mountain road made me think of life's twists and turns. I glanced at Carla and could see she was deep in thought, like me. When we drove towards the desert, I could feel the temperature rising. I looked at the gas gauge and saw we we were half full.

"Jim said forty miles and we'd be there, didn't he?"

Just then, I saw smoke billowing out from under the hood and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Damn, what a place to break down."

While cars and trucks sped by us, I got out of the truck and carefully lifted the hood, making sure to avoid the hot steam. I'm pretty good with repairing cars and hoped this wasn't too serious. What was serious though was the police car I saw heading in our direction. I glanced at Carla sitting in the truck then leaned over to see what was wrong. Two minutes later, the police car stopped in back of my truck and I could hear the crunch of his footsteps getting closer.

When he stood next to me, I saw he was a sheriff and not the State Police. I noticed he didn't look at my license plate and seemed more concerned that I was having mechanical trouble.

He had a pot belly that hung over his belt and strained the buttons on his tan shirt. I glanced at his badge then at his jowls and double chin. His wide brimmed cowboy hat shaded his eyes.

"Not a good place to break down," he said. "People die out here from the heat."

"I know, but I think the hose from the radiator broke loose...that's what I'm checking."

I glanced up and saw Carla sitting in the truck, then noticed her duck down so she couldn't be seen.

"Where are you heading?" he asked as several cars sped by. He chuckled. "No one pays attention to the goddamn speed limit on this road." He turned and watched a red sports car roar by. "I must give six or seven tickets a day out here....fifty bucks, sometimes over a hundred depending on the speed."

"I bet." I touched the hose to see if it was cooling down.

"Hope you can fix her. Not a gas station for miles." "I got my tools in the back. I think I can handle it. It's the hose and I need to see if I can attach it."

He looked at me and narrowed his eyes. "Where did you say you were heading?"

"I'm visiting a friend not far from here in Avalon."

"Avalon? Don't tell me you know that nut, Anna?"

"Well, she's not exactly a friend, but I heard about her and wanted to meet her."

He shook his head as if agitated. "She lives in the old ghost town, Hesterville and changed the name to Avalon when she opened her theater. Craziest goddamn thing you ever saw."

"Well, that's where I'm heading." I didn't know about the theater.

"I better wait here with you and see if you can get your truck going. Don't want you stranded out here in the heat."

"Thanks."

I went to the rear of the truck to get my tools. While he followed me, he glanced into the truck and saw Carla ducking.

"Hey, miss, you should come out and get some air. It's too damn hot to sit in that truck with the air conditioner off." Then I heard him ask. "Are you looking for something?"

"Yes, I'm looking for a ring I dropped. I'll be out in a minute."

When I brought my tools to the front of the truck, the sheriff followed me just as Carla got out of the truck. I was glad she leaned against the side door, avoiding any chances of being recognized.

"They say that woman, Anna was a famous ballet dancer in New York and was on her way to Hollywood and ended up staying in Hesterville and fixed up an old theater there then changed the name to Avalon like it's her town. Craziest thing. A theater in a ghost town." He shook his head. "Some friends told me about her. I'm a writer so I thought I'd find out more about her and write a story."

He glanced over at Carla."Now ain't that better being out of that hot truck."

"Yes, much better. I found my ring."

"Good," The sheriff said and smiled. "I'm glad."

It was really hot as the sun got higher and I noticed the dark wet spots staining his shirt under his arm pits.

"I got it," I said, making sure it was tight and then closed the hood.

"Well, good luck to you. Hope you get a good story out of that crazy woman. Say hello to Mosa for me...she's a cutie who works with that nut."

He glanced over at Carla then back at me. When I returned my tools to the back of the truck, he walked back to his car.

Carla got back into the truck and I waved back at the sheriff.

"That was close." I climbed back behind the wheel and glanced in the rear view mirror.

"I don't think he recognized me." Carla leaned her head against the back of the seat and exhaled a deep sigh.

I turned on the ignition and waited for the sheriff to drive off in front of us. We were back on the road looking for Avalon.