Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) (9 page)

She must be skinnier than I remember, I thought.

I pulled on a bathrobe and put my clothes, along with the towel I had used, into the washing machine. While I waited for the load to finish, I dragged the blankets out of the master bedroom closet and put them back on Rochelle’s bed. Since it had been dark when I’d pulled them off, I wasn’t exactly sure how they had been arranged, but I put them back as best I could and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

The washing machine beeped and I hurried over and threw everything in the dryer. Then I went back into the office and pulled up my new email account, pressing the refresh button every few minutes, waiting to hear back from Mom.

By the time the dryer finished and I’d gotten dressed, my patience had run out. Trying to keep busy while waiting for Mom’s reply, I visited some of my favorite web sites, including the one that had the phone I wanted. The site looked different than I remembered. Then I noticed the date in the bottom right corner of the monitor. It said it was September third. My brow creased. I knew that couldn’t be right. It was November, not September.

I shrugged, knowing some people weren’t good at fixing simple problems like the wrong date on their computer. Then I refreshed my email account again and saw an email from Mom and forgot all about the date. As I clicked on the email to open it, my heart thundered. It was then that I realized how terrified I had been that I would not get a reply at all; that my family would be lost to me forever.

My hand shook as I clicked on her email.

Hi Janice. It’s good to hear from you. As you can imagine things have been difficult lately, but we’re getting by. It’s particularly hard without Steven here. The kids are having an especially hard time. But you know how it is.

I hope things are well with you. My new address and phone number are below.

Take care,

Roxanne

What did she mean that Dad wasn’t there? Where was he? WAS HE DEAD? I felt the blood drain from my face as I considered life without my father. Hot tears filled my eyes then slid down my cheeks as I pictured Dad’s face.

How could all of this have happened in two days? I knew something wasn’t right—that I was missing something important—and that the only way I would find out was to go home.

I dug through the Candee’s desk until I found a sheet of paper and a pencil. The tears made it difficult to focus, but I wrote down the address and phone number from the email. As I stared at the address it hit me that I had no idea how to get to the location. It wasn’t even in this town.

Grabbing a tissue from the box shoved in the corner of the desk, I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I decided I shouldn’t jump to conclusions until I had more information. Maybe Dad was just on an extended business trip, although I had to admit he didn’t have the kind of job that usually required travel. But you never know, I thought, trying to convince myself that everything was okay.

I logged out of the email program and pulled up Google maps, then typed in the address Mom had put in her email. A map filled the screen. Using the zoom option, I zoomed out to see if I recognized the names of the surrounding streets, but nothing sounded familiar. Then I typed my old address in the From field and pressed
Get Directions
. A moment later the directions from my old house to my new house appeared. I scrolled to the bottom and my mouth fell open when I saw it would take four hours to get home. By car. I didn’t have a car. I didn’t even have a license. How was I supposed to get home? And I was desperate to get there. Right away.

Maybe I can take the bus, I thought. I found the website for long distance bus travel and typed in the starting and ending places. The bus would be leaving this afternoon. I smiled in relief. But then I saw the price and felt my heart sink. Seventy-five dollars. Where would I get the money? Those rotten boys had stolen my backpack, with all of my money. Not that I’d had seventy-five dollars. Despair rolled over me and I knew I had to find a way to get home. I lifted my head and found my gaze searching the room.

Normally I didn’t steal from people, but as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. And I was desperate to get back to my family.

I searched every place in the office that I could think of then moved on to the master bedroom. Careful not to leave anything out of place, I only found fifty dollars. Not enough to buy a bus ticket. I didn’t know of any cheaper form of transportation. I put all but twenty dollars back. Just in case of an emergency.

Then it came to me. Hitchhiking. I knew it wasn’t a great idea. I’d heard all the horror stories and knew there were a lot of creeps out there, but how else was I going to get home? I couldn’t walk all that way.

Of course I could always just call Mom and have her come and get me, but I had a funny feeling that she didn’t even know I was missing. She hadn’t mentioned anything in the email about me being gone. Plus, how could I possibly explain to her what had happened and why I was up here in our old town?

I took one last look around the house to make sure everything was as I had found it, then went into the office and cleared out the temporary files in the browser to erase any evidence of my browsing. Then I shut off the computer.

As I was getting ready to leave I remembered the can of pepper spray I had noticed in the office during my search. Since I would be accepting rides from strangers, I decided it might come in handy. I went back into the office, pulled out the can of pepper spray, and put it in my coat pocket.

The cat had followed me from room to room and now waited patiently for me to give him one last scratch before I left. I obliged, then went to the front window and peeked out. I didn’t see anyone around, especially Mrs. Donaldson, so I decided now was as good a time as any to leave.

I left through the back door, then withdrew the key from its rocky hiding place, locked the back door and put the key back in its place. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I opened the gate on the side of the house and made my way through, then shut the gate with a click.

It was early nearly noon and the warmth of the sun felt good as I walked away from the Candee’s house and toward the park. I had put on my jacket, the pepper spray in the pocket, and begun the walk toward town. I had decided the best place to hitch a ride would be at the on-ramp to the highway, just outside of town.

Within twenty minutes I made it to the main road and glanced at the bookstore where I had stopped the day before. It was hard to believe so little time had passed. Sighing, I continued on past the main road.

A short time later I found myself at the freeway on-ramp. Not very many cars seemed to be passing by, but I crossed the road and found a good spot to wait. Turning so that I would be facing the oncoming traffic, I watched for cars. A little while later a car came around the corner, heading in my direction. I stuck my thumb out and watched the woman in the car glance at me, then look away as she sped past. I dropped my arm to my side, still feeling optimistic. Another car approached and I got into my hitchhiker’s pose, but it just drove on by too.

This happened several more times and I felt myself getting discouraged. As a beat up old truck entered the on-ramp, I almost didn’t put out my thumb. My arm was getting tired and I knew the driver wouldn’t stop anyway, but I stuck my arm out and before I even got my thumb in position, the truck had pulled over.

My heart raced with relief and trepidation. I hurried over to the truck but stopped at the passenger door, which had the window rolled down, and stared at the man behind the wheel. Long gray hair fell down his back in a pony tail, a beard in need of trimming framed his mouth, and through his smile I could see that a couple of his teeth were missing.

“Get in, honey,” he called out to me.

I backed up a step or two.

His smile faded a bit. “Well, do you want a ride or not?”

Chapter Nine

I slid my hand into my jacket pocket and touched the bottle of pepper spray, reassuring myself that I had a form of self-defense. Then I opened the door, knowing this might be the only offer of a ride I would get. “Hi,” I said, scared to move forward but scared to let this ride go.

He nodded his head once. “Jump in. I need to get going.”

Not feeling like I had any other choice, I climbed in and closed the door. I reached for the seat belt, but there wasn’t one.

“What’s your name, girlie?” he asked.

I stopped hunting for the seat belt and looked at him. “It’s Morgan.”

“I’m Wilfred, but everyone calls me Fred.”

He held his hand out and I shook it. It was calloused and rough, but warm.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, remembering my manners despite my nervousness.

“You might want to roll up the window before we get on the freeway.”

There was no button to push and I had to crank the handle to move the glass upward.

Glancing over his shoulder, he pulled back onto the road and entered the freeway. “Where you headed?”

I hesitated, not wanting to tell this complete stranger exactly where I was going. “South.”

“Me, too.” He chuckled. “Guess you can tell me when to let you off then.”

I nodded. “Thanks for picking me up. I was beginning to wonder if anyone would stop.”

“Happy to help. But I was surprised to see a young girl like you hitchin’. Does your family know where you are?” He glanced my way before turning his gaze back to the road.

“Of course,” I lied, not about to tell him that I was completely on my own.

“And they don’t mind you hitchin’?” His voice held a tone of disbelief.

“I’d rather not talk about my family.” I hoped that would put an end to his questions.

“Fine, fine.”  He glanced my way again. “Kind of warm for a jacket.”

I couldn’t agree more. The cab was stuffy and though I wanted to shed the jacket, I was worried that that would make the pepper spray harder to get to. “I’m fine,” I lied, feeling a trickle of sweat forming on my forehead.

“Suit yourself.”

As I sat there roasting in my coat, I mentally battled with myself on whether or not to take if off. The longer I sat there with Fred basically ignoring me, the more I realized I was making myself suffer unnecessarily. Finally, I slid my jacket off and stuffed it in the space between me and the door, positioning it so that it wouldn’t be too difficult to grab the pepper spray if the need arose.

I glanced toward Fred, but he was focused on driving. We rode in silence for a while and I found myself getting drowsy. I didn’t want to fall asleep while in the car with Fred, but couldn’t help myself.

When I woke up, for a moment I couldn’t remember where I was. This feeling of disorientation had been too frequent lately and I was anxious to get home—although I knew it would be an unfamiliar place.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Fred said.

“How long was I asleep?” I rubbed my face, trying to bring myself fully awake.

“I guess about two hours.”

Sitting up straighter, I looked out the window. There wasn’t much to see. Sagebrush and open grassland.

“How far south are you going?” I asked.

“All the way to Higbee.”

Pulling out the map I had printed off at the Candee’s house, I didn’t see the town of Higbee on my map. I wondered if it was beyond where I was headed.

“You might want to tell me where you need to get off in case you fall asleep again. I’d hate to drive right on past your destination.”

I knew he was right and figured since he hadn’t harmed me in the last two hours when I had been asleep, there was no need to fear him now. “I’m going to Timber Hills.”

“Well that’s perfect then, isn’t it? That’s right on the way to Higbee. We’ll be there in about . . .” he paused. “About two hours I guess.” He looked my way and smiled. “Of course we might have to make a pit stop. But we should be there late this afternoon.”

He reached into a paper bag that sat on the seat between us, keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling out a box of chocolate Pop-Tarts.

My mouth watered as I imagined taking a bite of the treat. “Yes.”

He handed me a foil-wrapped packet. “Open this. You can have one and I can have one.”

I took the package from his hand and began ripping it open.

“Careful now,” he said. “We don’t want it to crumble.”

“Okay.” I glanced his way, wondering why he seemed so concerned about a Pop-Tart. Didn’t he have a full box in the bag? I slowly opened the foil, then pulled out one of the frosted Pop-Tarts and handed it to him before getting my own.

I broke off a piece and placed it in my mouth, ready to savor the chocolaty flavor. But when I bit down, the taste was not what I had expected. In fact there wasn’t much taste at all. Fred must have noticed my expression because he asked what was wrong.

I pretended to enjoy it. “Nothing. Thank you for sharing your food with me.”

He grinned in a sort of secret way. “I’ve been saving that for a long time. But I knew they wouldn’t last forever.” He looked in my direction. “I know they don’t taste as good as they used to, but they’re a lot better than that fat-free crap they sell now.” He chuckled, then faced the road.

“We usually buy the fat-full kind,” I said.

“What d’ya say?” he asked, glancing at me.

“Well, we hardly ever buy the fat-free stuff. It always seems to leave an aftertaste.” When he looked at me again, I could see the disapproval in his eyes. He seemed skinny enough, so I didn’t know why he would give me that look. I almost asked him, but didn’t want to offend him and have him drop me off in the middle of nowhere.

“Where do you find it? Are you rich or something?” he asked.

What an odd question. “At the grocery store?” Why would he ask a question with such an obvious answer? “And no, we are definitely not rich.” I almost laughed at that part. Money had always been tight at my house. In fact, I knew that was really why Mom had said no when I’d asked for a new cell phone. She needed me to use my money on more practical things. It was selfish of me to even ask, I realized now. Well, I would have plenty of chance to apologize when I got home.