Three Weeks on the Road Ch. 02

"You made me get out of bed for breakfast?" Jessie moaned.

"Damn skippy. You need protein and carbs and hydration after that bender you tied on last night. I set a paper-wrapped breakfast sandwich and a box of coconut water in front of her. "Eat hearty."

She smiled cutely at me and unwrapped the spinach and egg sandwich. "You take such good care of me."

I snorted. "Says the woman who gave up one of her jobs to take care of me and my mostly severed arm."

We ate in silence, looking out the windows of the foodcourt where we'd had our first breakfast together some four years ago. The downtown mall had experienced a revitalization since then, the booming state and national economies bringing businesses back to the building, and the foodcourt bustled around us, busy even for a Saturday morning. Though that might have something to do with the Farmer's Market taking place outside.

"Too bright, too bright!" Jessie complained as we stepped out into the street.

"You're wearing sunglasses," I reminded her.

"I know, but I have a hangover..."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm gonna go get some beer and cheese to leave for Ashley, where will you be?"

She cocked her head. "My old clothing company has a booth here, over by the bank I think. I'll find them and see how they're doing."

"Find ya in half an hour." I gave her a peck on the cheek and stepped into the crowd.

I've always loved crowds. Moving along in their organic flow, like a bloodcell in a vein, the press of bodies around me, the feeling of being...lost...in a sea of humanity. I can drift and be nobody. So I drifted, eyes moving over the stalls and stands under the harsh morning light. Nine in the morning and the sun was already beating down like a heat lamp on the massive crowd.

I found stands selling bottles of local beer and blocks of heavy orange cheese from nearby farms, buying several of each, and then began navigating the crowd back towards the towering bank where Jessie was. That'd make a nice "thank you" gift for Ashley when she housesat for us.

Warning bells went off in my head, a persistent little ringing that didn't something make sense. I kept walking, eyes scanning, the "lost-in-the-crowd" feeling evaporating completely. I wasn't lost now, I was stalking through the crowd. Had I passed someone who seemed off? Had I seen something in the periphery that reminded me of a threat?

There it was. Not someone, SOMEONES. Scattered throughout the crowd, sometimes ambling along, sometimes standing by a stall, were people wearing clothes that just didn't fit in. It was a hot summer day, and I was wearing a t-shirt , shorts, sunglasses, and my Sig Sauer ball cap. Most everyone else was wearing something similar, quarter length sleeves and khaki shorts prevailing.

The people giving me a bad vibe were wearing black jeans, a black hoodie or leather jacket, and a red bandana. They had to be roasting in these temps. I very obviously ogled one of them as I passed by his station at a stall, and he sneered at me, attempted to raise his left hand from his side, decided against it, and flipped me the bird with his right hand.

I caught a glimpse of something in his aborted gesture, and his attempt made sense - the butt of a piece of rebar was hidden in his left sleeve.

Fuck this noise, time to go.

The brightly colored clothing booth by the bank was easy to find, and I wife through the tables of inexpensive women's clothing, searching for Jessie. I found her at the iPad cash register, chatting up the clerk about the quality of the fabrics they were using.

"Cmon honey, time to go."

Jessie looked back. "Couple of minutes."

"Your mom called, she'd like us to come over after the market."

Even behind sunglasses, the look of shock on her face was easily recognizable.

"I'll email you," she said hurriedly to the clerk, and followed me, hand on my wrist. "What's up?" she asked, voice tense, once we'd moved away.

"See those guys dressed like Negan impersonators? They're armed. Impact weapons, who knows what else they got." I looked around for police as we walked, but none were in sight. Fuck. We cut through the massive crowd, and finding the edge, broke through into the tree-shadowed courtyard of one of Milwaukee's skyscrapers. I took a deep breath. Safe, finally.

Behind us, commotion erupted deep in the crowd. Shouting, sounds of pain. Dammit. The disruption rippled through the mass of humanity towards us, people turning, reacting to what shouldn't be happening.

Shouldn't have parked so far away, but I was trying to get Jessie to walk.

I glanced around, orienting myself, trying to map my next moves. "This way."

We sprinted onto the street, the front of a wave of people spilling out of the market as they tried to escape violence. I looked back at the people fleeing, running behind us, and made a quick decision. Time to get off the main drag. I angled towards an alley and we ducked in between the two buildings. It was darker here, smelled of baked brick, wet, and old food.

I looked back, saw people running past the mouth of the alley. Fuck, what was going on today?

Jessie led the way towards the other end, past the dumpsters, trash bags, peeling doorways and barred windows. She looked back at me, a smirk on her face. "What a wonderful smell we've discov - Gary, look out!"

I pivoted, and that turned a full-on-the-side-of-the-head smack from a piece of rebar into a glancing blow to my temple that was still hard enough to ring my bell. I caught myself as I hit one knee on the dirty pavement.

"Fucking scum!" the black-clad assailant shouted, pulling back for another full-strength swing at my head.

Time slowed, gelled, crystallized around me.

A few feet away Jessie was rummaging through her purse for the extendable baton she carried. I'd forgone my usually Sig because of the crowd, opting just for my pocketknife. The fucker behind me was swinging the rebar one-handed, the blow aimed for my head starting way behind him like some kind of half-assed executioner with a saber.

I exploded into motion, pushing to my feet and accepting the pain of the thick metal slamming against my chest. I lost my breath, but my action had already been decided - I gripped his wrist with my left hand, rolled my own wrist to trap his arm under my armpit. My right hand found the ring of my knife, and it snapped to full extension as I jerked it from my pocket. He struggled for control of his arm, and I turned towards him, drew the blade hard and deep through his tricep, kept the slash going across his chest, turned my wrist to direct it down and across his abs, let go of the arm, and ducked, turned my wrist again and took out the back of his left calf.

He dropped, howling, curling around his pain, unsure of which bright hot hurt to grab first, arm or leg.

"C'mon!" I shouted at Jessie. I grabbed her wrist as I sprinted past her, and I nearly tugged her off her feet with my speed.

As we ran, I shrugged off my shirt, holding it to my bleeding head. Fuck! My sunglasses were destroyed, and I pitched them. The several blocks run to the parking garage wasn't fun, but I was glad for the distance once we'd slammed and locked the SUV doors. I wiped blood from my eyes again and held the shirt to my head as the Suburban bounced out of the garage and then roared down the street.

"Are you ok?" Jessie asked finally, once we hit the highway. Sirens wailed in the distance and I was moderately surprised we weren't stuck in a traffic jam.

I turned my head and pulled the shirt away. "How does it look?"

She winced. "Bad, but it'll probably clean up well."

"I'm not going to a doctor, I don't want to answer any questions."

We were silent a while longer. "What do you think that was?" she asked finally. "Why would anyone throw a riot in a farmers market?"

I shrugged instead of punching the steering wheel. "Lots of people there. It's an election season, it's probably political. Turn the TV on when we get home, check the news."

Jessie looked disconsolately out the window. "I just don't get it."

Rage burned white-hot in my chest as I mopped up the blood on my face at the bathroom sink. Shit, that hurt. Worse than the pain though was the thought of that thug getting anywhere near Jessie, or the idea that the police might want to look for me. I'd pretty much destroyed my attacker, and even though it'd been clear self-defense, running away from a guy you just sliced and diced was frowned upon.

I heard footsteps as I was applying butterfly bandages to the cut on my forehead and turned. "So, what's the news?"

Jessie was white as a ghost. Ashen. She held her tablet in her hand, offering it to me, a tinny voice playing over the video pulled up.

"A car bomb went off in the farmers market," she said, her voice small.

Cold stillness put out the burning rage in my soul, and I took the tablet from her trembling hand, set it on the counter, and pulled her close. "It's ok," I whispered. "We're ok."

"Fucking mess getting over here," McKenna complained as she threw her bags into the back of the Suburban.

I rolled my eyes. "That'll happen when someone lights off a car bomb in an American city."

It hasn't just been the car bomb. The car was driven into one end of the crowded market, the driver escaped, and then when police arrived it was remote detonated. There had been thirty some injuries from the vehicle itself and seven police officers were killed and another five wounded when it exploded.

The asshats in black and red - calling themselves "The Brotherhood Of The Red Flag" claimed partial responsibility for the riot, saying they were defending themselves against political aggression, but denied involvement with the car, blaming their ideological opponents. The talking heads on TV were skeptical of the group's claims, seeing as similar events had taken place in Chicago,St . Louis, Miami, and Oakland at roughly the same time.

I hadn't heard of any of the violence or The Brotherhood - I studiously avoid the news and I vote with my ass by staying home. But I spent the afternoon - like most people in this city - watching the TV with a sick feeling in my stomach. Car bombs go off in places like Kabul, not Wisconsin.

I'd packed while watching the news, and I was glad to be getting out of town this afternoon. I probably didn't have much to worry about from a bunch of bomb-making jerkoffs in the remote wildernesses we were going to be visiting.

"Still, I wish they'd get off the TV, I like watching my soaps while I'm programming."

"Explain to me why we're bringing you again?" I asked the irritated developer.

She put her hands on her hips, cocked her head. "Duh. Cuz Jessie and I spent the last decade coming up with a list of places to visit out west. Cuz I don't fly. Take your pick."

Standing there looking like she was pissed at me for breathing did little to make me think of her as mature. Neither did the pink track skirt and tank top, the sparkly sandals, and green apple sucker she kept tucked in one corner of her mouth.

I sighed. It was gonna be a long trip.

I walked back inside, found Jessie attaching a note for Ashley to the refrigerator. I stood in the doorway a moment, watching as she looked around at the shadowed kitchen, then walked up and wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging her tight from behind. "Ready to go?"

"Mhmm."

She turned in my arms and smiled up at me, raised herself up on tiptoes to give me a brief kiss. I stroked hair away from her face and looked her in the eyes. "I'm so proud of you, you know that?"

"Why?"

"Because you keep fighting. We're gonna drive across the country so that you can sell a product you've been helping to develop for years to one of the biggest companies on the planet, and you haven't stopped working hard, haven't stopped fighting for the past four years I've known you." I grinned. "You're a pretty tough chick."

She laughed, music to my ears. "Let's get going."

I took one last look around the kitchen and locked the house behind us.

It was gonna be a long time until I saw my home again.

My parents took me and my sister on a road trip to California as kids, probably just before our teens. I don't remember much of the drive, just the beautiful cities we visited once there, the majestic ocean, the boardwalks and beaches and hot weather, so different than my native Minnesota.

So driving out west was a new experience for me as well. I set the maps app on my phone for our first destination and started driving.

And I instantly got bored.

Wisconsin and Minnesota are deadly dull. Fields and farmland rolled off on either side of the highway as far as the eye could see, the only breaks in the gentle hills and valleys of planted greenery being small copses and windbreaks of trees, the occasional farmhouse or barn. Even the gas stations are dull, racks of shitty food, bathrooms that need Lysol, and memorabilia playing off the states' folksy, unintelligent, or drunken reputations.

We fueled at every third gas station, two people staying at the car while the third used the restrooms inside. I insisted on this, not wanting to leave a very expensive SUV loaded with our possessions unguarded or guarded by one woman. Yes, Jessie is working on getting just as proficient at violence as I try to be, but I guess I'm just chauvinistic that way.

My pale, raven-haired lover reached over and squeezed my hand as we crossed into Minnesota.

My former home.

Origin and home to all of my heartaches and pain.

After the sale of my townhouses went through, I hadn't wanted to set foot in the fucking state ever again. However, driving in a big arc around it would take too much time, and Jessie convinced me we wouldn't go anywhere near the twin cities.

I could deal with the rolling farmland, but going near that population center hurt too much. Too much misery, too much death and destruction, too many regrets, too many memories for me to even want to drive through that area. So we cut across the lower half of the state, turning northward to hit the highway we'd need tomorrow, and my blood pressure stayed low as I imagined we were still in Wisconsin.

Jessie and McKenna chattered constantly through the drive, business conversation mixed with a game of "Eye Spy" mixed with celebrity gossip. I tuned it out with mixed success, though I did have to glare into the backseat and threaten to leave McKenna on the side of the road if she continued with "Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall."

We ate at a Taco Johns in some tiny little hamlet I didn't even bother to learn the name of, sitting outside as the descending sun turned the fields to gold and the soft breeze brushed skin and hair with a relaxing caress. The pint-sized programmer had begged for us to stop HERE for dinner while I fueled, and if I hadn't already been accustomed to her juvenile behavior, I would've been annoyed. Instead, I just rolled my eyes at her.

We arrived in Le Sueuer around eleven that night. A factory town nestled in the forest with a river at its back, the main drag overlooked the water and was particularly rural - I counted five grain silos and three farm supply stores in the downtown section alone. There was only one hotel in town, and we were the only vehicle in the lot. I stretched when I got out of the SUV, rolling my neck and shoulders. This hadn't even been a particularly long day of driving and I was already sore.

The lobby of the hotel was old and cheap looking and smelled strongly of pickles. The wallpaper was peeling off the paneling, as was the veneer on the ancient office furniture, and the drop ceiling tiles were stained with age. The Indian couple that answered the bell must've lived at the hotel, because behind the bulletproof glass that totally sectioned off the front desk from the lobby, I could see a back room dimly lit by a television, a bed and crib barely visible in the darkness.

We paid and received our room keys and then carried our bags in from the truck, awkwardly banging the duffels in the tight quarters of the main hallway. "Was this place built for hobbits?" Jessie grumbled.

"Dwarves, probably," McKenna replied. "Why's it so damn dark?"

It was particularly gloomy, the main source of light in the hall being an ancient Coke machine and the exit sign. Our rooms were right next to each other at my insistence, and I managed to juggle my bags while I unlocked both doors, then flipped the lights on in my room while holding the door for Jessie.

It was spartan but decently well maintained - better than the rest of the hotel. Popcorn-textured walls and ceiling, a flatscreen and cable box sitting on a cheap dresser, one chair at a table that looked to be about fifty years old. The bathroom was all glossy brown tile, the Formica counter as old as the table outside, and a dull red heat lamp shown down just outside the tiny shower.

A knock sounded at the door, and I peered through the peephole, opened the door for McKenna."You guys wanna go looking for a bar or something? Wander around? I am not tired at all."

Jessie looked at me, I shrugged, and we locked our rooms, headed out the door at the end of the dim hall. The night was warm and still, and the town was silent. McKenna pulled on the door of a nearby bar, but it was locked and the interior was dark. All the other businesses within sight were closed, repair shops or farming supply stores, so we walked down to the gas station a few hundred yards away.

The interior was bright, an oasis of light on the darkened street. Coolers hummed pleasantly and top forty pop played quietly on the overhead radio. A bored looking young man leaned on the counter staring angrily out the window into the darkness beyond. He straightened slowly and gave us a half-hearted smile. "Good evening."

I nodded at him and we began winding through the aisles. We had a laugh at the kitschy commemorative t-shirts and McKenna briefly considered climbing an artistically arranged pyramid of canned peas before the giggling Jessie talked her out of it. I thought it was a grand idea, but maybe I just wanted to see her fall on her butt.

Jessie picked out a bar of dark chocolate and McKenna found a small bottle of rum and a liter of Coke, and we headed up front to pay.

"So what's there to do on a Saturday night in Le Sueur?" McKenna asked.

The checker rolled his eyes. "Not a damn thing. Just like every other damn night."

"You don't like it here?"

"Would you? I start college in the fall and I'm stuck here in podunkville, lucky to get one customer a night, and my boss doesn't even let me read."

"Ugh." Mckenna's disgusted voice brightened. "Wanna see my tits?"

He gaped at her. "What? Do you work for Mr. Harmon?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Just trying to spice up what sounds like a miserable night for you."

The checker blushed, pink flooding through his ruddy face, all the way up to his blonde hair. "Yeah, I guess, I mean if you - "

I was standing behind McKenna so I didn't get to see the tits themselves when she hiked her shirt up, but they must've been nice, because the guy flushed even redder and his eyes got massive.

"You can touch em if you want," McKenna said from behind her shirt.

He reached out hesitantly and she sighed at his touch, then lowered her shirt. Then to my surprise, she flipped up the front of her skirt. Back down after a few seconds and she giggled. "Thought you might wanna see that too. Have a good night, sailor." She just about knocked me over running out of the gas station.

The checker's mouth worked a few times as Jessie stepped up. "Just this," she said, offering him the candy bar.

"Sorry, I, that was, um, your friend, yeah, wow. Weird night, huh?"

She offered him a brilliant smile. "You can see my tits too if you want."