Chapters (46)
“So, you see, I had all kinds of motives for trying to track her down. I believed I was the only one who could. I guess I still believe that.”
14
14
There were only three other passengers on the bus, and it pulled into the darkness while I slid into a depression. I felt as if I had been suspended in a colorless, odorless solution. The bus nosed its way toward the freeway, then picked up speed, carrying me away from Westwater, away from Boyd.
I shrugged up my shoulders until the padded shell of overcoat arose about my ears, and I pressed the back of my hand to the fogged window as telephone poles whipped past in the night. My pack was on the seat next to me. A black soldier smoked a foul-smelling cigarette in the very rear seat; a middle-aged woman dozed in the safe seat directly behind the driver. The cavernous emptiness of our passenger tube echoed around me. This was not how freedom was supposed to feel.
I thought momentarily about Lewis. He and I were surely members of different species. I had great respect for Lewis; I admired his ideals, his drive, the all-around tidiness of his affairs, but there was nothing the two of us had in common at all. Nothing at all.
My mind was filled with Boyd, my whole being was filled with Boyd. He pulled on me like the tides. I thought I needed to escape him, to get farther away, and farther still, out of his range of influence.
But that was silly. The influence was in me, not in him, not in the air. Nevertheless, the pull was real, and I felt it all night long.
Dawn soothed the desert and I had just enough energy left to admire it before I nodded off. I slept through the day and awakened at twilight, refreshed, alive and tired of the bus. I disembarked at the next rest stop and took a look at Red Creek, New Mexico. Impulsively, I told the driver he would be going on without me. I washed up in the cafeteria facilities and had a bite to eat before hitching up my pack and heading back out to the road.
The blacktop stretched forever in both directions. I had no need to imagine which way we had come. To the northwest lay Westwater. Its force still pulled on me. I began walking east, the sound of my boots a comforting, familiar sound on the shoulder of the road. I had not known I had mourned that sound until now; there was no other sound like it.