Lean on Pete (15 page)

“When the last day came I got up at six o’clock and waited outside in the parking lot for my dad. He showed up with his girlfriend around noon and I got in the car and we went home.”

Pete lifted his head.

“I won’t make you sleep at that guy’s house. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. I’ll make sure you’re alright and we’ll find someone to fix your feet. Okay?”

Pete just stood there with his eyes half shut. I walked him back and tied him to the side of the trailer and cleaned it out with a broom. I led him in, gave him a flake of hay, then lay down in the front seat and conked out until it was late afternoon.

When I woke up I walked Pete up the road to let him stretch out, and he went along slow like he didn’t feel good, and when we went to the creek he didn’t drink at all.

I put him back in the trailer and threw in another flake of hay. I went in my bag and took out my last can of soup and ate it. I looked at the map and figured out which way to go and got back on the road.

I kept the truck at fifty and drove for hours. By the time night came I turned onto Highway
395
and headed south, but the longer I drove the harder it became to shift gears. One time when I was going up a hill the engine suddenly started revving, but I wasn’t going any faster. It was like I had the clutch in but I didn’t.

I can’t remember what time it was when I got to Burns, Oregon, but it was late and I had less than a quarter-tank of gas. Burns is a small desert town and everything was closed except for a gas station and an all-night restaurant. I drove around until I saw a few trucks parked on a side street across from a motel. I pulled up alongside a white pickup and killed the engine. There was no lock on the gas cap and I grabbed my hose, stuck it in the truck’s tank and began sucking. But when the gas came I wasn’t ready and I swallowed some. It was horrible. I couldn’t stop coughing and gas poured out of the hose and on to the street. I must have let a gallon run out before I got the hose in the gas can and it began to fill. The whole time I just stood there spitting and coughing and then finally I puked out onto the street.

I filled Del’s front tank to the top, then pulled the hose out, threw it in the back and started the truck. This time it barely went into first. It was grinding worse and it took me a couple minutes to get moving. The whole time my heart raced and I was certain some big ape-looking cowboy would come running from a motel room. I began heading out of town but my stomach was still sick and felt worse and I knew I had to eat. I turned around and drove towards the restaurant, and parked a block away next to an auto body shop.

When I walked into The Apple Peddler there was hardly anyone there. I sat at the counter and a waitress came and set down a menu and a glass of water. She was middle-aged and sort of heavy, and she and the cook looked like the only people who were working. There was an old-man truck driver in a corner booth reading the paper and there was an obese guy sitting at a table near the door doing paperwork.

I ordered the full chicken fried steak dinner with baked potato, soup, and a large Coke. I also got two cheeseburgers to go. When the waitress finished taking my order I went to the can and washed my face and hands and rinsed out my mouth, trying to get rid of the smell and taste of gas. When my food came out I ate as fast as I could. The lady filled my Coke once and when I finished eating she set down the sack with the two cheeseburgers and the bill.

I watched her for a while, then she disappeared into the back. I took the sack and headed for the door. I passed the register where I was supposed to pay and saw the old-man truck driver still sitting in his booth. I couldn’t see the other man even though the table was still full of papers, but as I passed it and was halfway out the door something grabbed my shirt from behind.

It was the obese man.

His face was pale and bloated and it looked like he was trying to grow a moustache. He must have weighed over three hundred pounds. On his shirt there was an Apple Peddler name tag. It said his name was Mitch and that he was a manager.

I hadn’t noticed the tag before.

“I knew you were going to dine and dash,” he said. It didn’t seem like he was angry or anything, but he wouldn’t let go of my shirt.

I tried to say something back but nothing came out.

“Do you want to pay now?”

I looked at him and then after a while I said, “I don’t have any money.”

“You ordered twenty-five dollars’ worth of food and you don’t have any money?”

I shook my head.

“You’re serious?”

I nodded.

“Let’s go,” he said. He kept hold of my shirt and took me past the restrooms and down the hall to an office. We went inside and he shut the door behind us and told me to sit in a chair that was in the back of the small room. If I tried to run I’d have to go past him.

“I didn’t want to steal the food,” I told him.

“You didn’t want to?”

“No.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I was starving.”

“Do you live in Burns?”

“No,” I said.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” I told him.

“Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you a runaway?”

“No,” I said.

He picked up the phone and dialed the police. He talked to them for a long time, and told them what I’d done. He said he thought I might be a runaway, and by the end it sounded like the police were going to come and get me.

“But my friend’s sick in the car,” I said when he hung up. “I can’t leave him. If the police come and take him he’ll die.”

“What’s wrong with your friend?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What’s your name?”

“They’ll kill him,” I said, and suddenly tears were leaking down my face. If Del got Pete back I knew he’d put him down, but if I didn’t say anything Pete would be stuck in the trailer and when day came he’d die in the heat.

I stood up and started for the door but the manager moved in front of it, blocking me.

“Sit down,” he yelled, and this time you could tell he was really mad. He was beginning to sweat. It was coming off his forehead and his shirt was growing dark under his arms. I just stood there. He told me again so I sat back down. Then the waitress came into the office.

“The bus just showed up.”

“How many got off?”

“At least twenty,” she said.

“Great,” the man said and shook his head.

“The driver wants to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“The sheriff hasn’t shown up, has he?”

“No,” she said.

“This kid,” he said and pointed to me, “tried to dine and dash. I’ll go check with the driver. Watch him and don’t let him leave, okay?”

The woman nodded and he left the room. She sat on the edge of the desk and looked at me.

“I should have known,” she said. “You don’t look like you got a dime.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You at least have to tip,” she said.

I nodded.

“Waitresses are the ones who get screwed when you don’t pay. Some places make us pay. Stealing from a waitress is pretty low.”

“I really am sorry,” I said.

She took a pack of gum out of her uniform pocket, opened it, and put a piece in her mouth.

“I bet you’re a runaway.”

I nodded.

“So you don’t live around here?”

“No,” I said.

“Where are you headed?”

“Wyoming,” I said.

“Wyoming?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“My aunt used to live there. I’m trying to find her.”

“Where are your parents?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I’d be madder, but I could tell you were hungry, and you look like you’ve been sleeping underneath a car. Maybe the sheriff can help get you to your aunt.”

“I can’t go with the sheriff.”

“Why?”

I just can’t.”

The manager came back in.

“There’s twenty-eight total and they all want food.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve waited an hour for the sheriff. I don’t know what to do. I’m not going to leave him alone in the office and we have forty-five minutes before they get back on the bus and head to Winnemucca.”

“I shouldn’t say this, but just let him go,” the waitress said.

“You saw how much food he ordered.”

The waitress nodded.

“I just don’t know why it’s taking them an hour to get here,” he said, and you could tell he was tired.

She stood up. “I got to go back out there or the whole bus will stiff me.”

The man shook his head, then sighed heavily and told me to leave. The waitress looked at me and moved her eyes, telling me to go, so I grabbed the sack with the cheeseburgers and went out the door and into the main dining room where a bus load of black people sat.

I went out the main door and ran through the parking lot and made it to the truck and got in. I ground the transmission into first and the truck lurched forward. I kept to the back roads until we were out of town, and soon it was pitch-black dark. I kept the truck going the best I could and for a while it was easy as there were no hills. Behind us there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 17

I drove for a long time without seeing anyone. I was out in the middle of a desert. I checked the rearview every once in a while but there were never any police cars or headlights behind me. Then the road began to incline and the engine lugged. I tried to shift down but it wouldn’t. It was stuck in third gear. I pushed the clutch in over and over and used all the strength I had to try and get the gear shift out of third but it wouldn’t go. The hill kept getting steeper. The engine lugged more and the truck slowed until the engine finally quit.

I made it to the side of the road and stopped. I tried again and again to take the truck out of third but it wouldn’t go. I sat there for nearly a half-hour trying. I found a flashlight in the glove box and opened the hood but I didn’t know what to look for. I waited until the truck cooled down and I then tried again but it still wouldn’t leave third. I started the engine and revved it and tried to go forward but it just lugged and stalled. I looked around but there was nothing but darkness. No house lights or headlights or moon. I gave up. I turned on the cab light and gathered everything I could. I kept the flashlight and took the road map and there was a pack of gum on the dash. Under the seat I found an old
National Geographic
, a pair of gloves, and an old yellow rope. I took all those things and got out of the truck.

I left the headlights on and went to the truck bed and took my duffel bag and emptied it out. The only things I kept were my two trophies and the picture of my aunt. I put the photo in my back pocket and wrapped the trophies in shirts and put them back in the bag. I put on my coat and stuck the two cheeseburgers and the flashlight and the map and magazine in the pockets. Then I filled the bag with hay. I took the rope I’d found and cut a piece and tied it around my sleeping bag in two places so I could put it over my shoulder. There was an empty gallon water jug and I took it and tied it to the sleeping bag, then I went back to the trailer.

I turned on the flashlight and opened the door. Pete’s eyes looked worried but I don’t know if he was. I took the lead rope and led him out. I carried the sleeping bag and the duffel of hay and we started walking up the hill. There were no cars but it was spooky out there alone. I couldn’t hear anything ’cause Pete’s shoes were banging and clanking against the asphalt. We walked for an hour before we saw a truck pass. It slowed down for a bit but it didn’t stop. Soon it started to get light so we moved off the highway and started walking through the desert sagebrush. I kept the road in sight to have something to follow, but I tried to get far enough away so no one could really see us. The walking was pretty easy and Pete went alright. His steps were short and it seemed like he hurt, but he never once stopped.

The hills around us were covered in sage and rock. Once in a while there’d be a tree but not very often. In the far distance were a couple of ranches and I saw cars and trucks pass on the highway but there was nothing much else out there. We walked for hours. It was hot out by then. We came to the top of a hill and started down the other side and I saw what looked like a creek in a small gully. When we came to it, it was wet with water and mud. The water was moving slowly. Pete went to it and stood in the middle of it but he didn’t drink. I filled the jug and the water was muddy but it tasted alright.

There were little patches of grass by the water and Pete ate off those and I moved alongside the bank with him. We walked maybe a quarter mile that way until we came to a pine tree and an old campsite. There were rusted-out cans everywhere and a fire pit and broken glass. I tied one end of the yellow rope around the tree and the other to the lead rope. Pete seemed uneasy about it at first and leaned back against it but my knot held and then after a time he calmed down and started looking for grass. I sat down in the shade, ate one of the cheeseburgers, unrolled my sleeping bag, and conked out.

When I woke it was afternoon and it was hotter than it was before. Pete stood half asleep. I was hungry again and ate the other cheeseburger, then I sat for a long time and did nothing. I lay back down. When I got up again it was late in the day. I took some hay out of the duffel and set it in front of him. There was a jet flying overhead and it was leaving a contrail that seemed to go on for miles and miles. I watched Pete eat and then I went to the creek and washed my face and tried to dunk my head in the shallow water.

I filled up the gallon jug, then rolled the sleeping bag and untied Pete and brought him to the creek and this time he drank and he drank for a long time. Then we started walking again. We went over a hill and came down another gully and saw a dead deer that was rotted out. Its lower jaw was ripped off and its guts were gone, as was most of its body. Pete didn’t seem to notice and we kept going. Every once in a while I thought I heard a rattlesnake, but I never saw one. We came across a bunch of beer cans and every so often we’d see old used-up shotgun shells or the skeleton of some animal. The sun was still hot but the worst of the day was over and I kept watching the highway and only a few times did I lose sight of it.