BooksBarbecue
Back The Everything Box
Chapters (42)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. EPIGRAPH
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. TWENTY-NINE
  32. THIRTY
  33. THIRTY-ONE
  34. THIRTY-TWO
  35. THIRTY-THREE
  36. THIRTY-FOUR
  37. THIRTY-FIVE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  40. ALSO BY RICHARD KADREY
  41. CREDITS
  42. ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

He took out a map of California that had been folded and refolded so many times that some of the creases had torn or worn white. Spreading the map on the table, he ran his finger down I-5 until he came to Red Bluff. He was on foot now. He liked going on foot. It made everything feel like it wasn’t just a walk, but an Exodus. Luckily, it looked like he’d still be able to keep to his schedule. Even though the stranger didn’t know how to drive, he sometimes wished he had a car. Driving seemed like fun, and stealing one seemed like even more fun. He was good with all kinds of tools, so he could probably hotwire one, but stealing was against the rules. Plus, he was still stuck with the driving problem. Even if he could drive, he couldn’t take a chance on being pulled over and arrested in a hot vehicle, since his main goal was to keep a low profile all the way south.

One thing the stranger hadn’t quite grasped yet was that strolling down the side of a major California freeway without, say, holding a gas can was as inconspicuous as riding a white elephant pulling a cart with LOW PROFILE spelled out in road flares. Still, he’d been lucky so far. The stranger was almost always lucky that way.

Sometimes on the road, people would stop for him and he’d accept a ride. Mostly it was from truckers or lonely long-distance travelers alone in cars. In general, though, he tried to avoid rides. Many people found his silence unnerving and insisted that he talk. Some even became aggressive. Those drives always ended the same way. Upside down in a ditch. Fire. People screaming. Then he’d be back on foot again, with dirty pants and bits of windshield in his hair. That’s why he always carried a comb and a clothes brush.

The stranger sighed, folded the map, and put it back in his coat pocket. Timewise, he was doing fine. He just had to keep moving. There wouldn’t be any need to check the map again for days. He could just enjoy the scenery. The river, however, was beginning to bother him more each time he looked.

Caroline soon came back with his food. When he looked up, she flinched, but composed herself in a second. He knew it was his eyes. It was always the eyes with these people. The waitress set down his sandwich and shake and went back to take an order at the counter.