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Authors: T. K. Madrid
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Foursquare. She then walked under the bridge and walked up the side of the road, to the opposite exit ramp, and put herself into position, intending to hitchhike north.
Head north. Canada. Michigan. Anywhere.
Run . There’s nothing to hold onto .
One night her and her parents were watching The Bourne Identity . Toward the end of the movie, her father had burst out laughing. In the movies, you crashed a car, limped away, and ended up killing men as you flew down the center of a stairwell, clutching a dead man.
“In real life they catch you, kill you, and toss your body in a ditch and you never happened .” He made one of his jokes. “ You were never Bourne .”
One car. Two cars. Three Cars.
And then a Ford Bronco, rattling, wobbling, it’s bumper ripped off, its undercarriage exposed, came at her, horn blaring, and veered off the freeway, brakes engaged, a crazy stunt at a speed she couldn’t even guess at.
She laughed despite herself, despite the moment, despite the ridiculousness of what she was seeing, relieved and happy.
The Calvary, the man in shining armor on the white mechanical horse, the boy named Tyler, came to a stop halfway down the exit.
She hobbled toward him.
He got out.
She was moving as fast as she could but not fast enough.
He yelled.
“ Let’s go !”
It was the coolest thing she’d ever heard.
(15) A Change of Heart
“Are you nuts? You ran into the bridge!”
Limping, laughing, she didn’t care he had a gun in his hand. The truck would be warm.
“You ran into it!”
She smiled, she couldn’t help it; he was so beautiful and so unintentionally funny.
“I sure did.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You crazy woman! You idiot !”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
He let his arm fall, bringing the weapon to his side.
“I thought you were going to park it!”
She limped closer.
“I said I was going to hit it.”
“No you didn’t!”
It was good to argue, good to talk.
“I said I was going to hit the abutment.”
“I thought you meant you were going to run it off the road!”
“You were wrong,” she said, walking to the passenger door.
He raised his gun, pointed it to her.
“Give me your shooter.”
Her shoulders sagged.
“Are you kidding?”
He held up his left hand, palm open.
“Whatever,” she said and opened the door and got in.
He was flummoxed. He opened his door and before he sat down saw she had placed her gun on his seat. He put it in the waist of his pants, attempted to sit, which wasn’t practical, and then placed it on the dashboard. He got in the truck and looked at the gun and then to her. He placed it in the door compartment.
“Comfortable?”
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Nice language.”
He turned onto the road below the freeway and they traveled west, toward her home in Vernon Castle. Sam realized it would be dark by the time they got there.
She looked at her foot, her ankle, which was swelling, and uttered her favorite expletive.
“For god’s sakes…”
“What?”
“I think I broke my foot.”
Tyler said nothing.
“Thank you for coming back.”
He didn’t respond.
She was emphatic.
“Really.”
He nodded.
“I came back for dad.”
His eyes were red and glazed and she understood. She imagined she looked like this when the FBI men came to her door to tell her of her parent’s deaths.
“Okay…”
After a few seconds he said, “You say ‘okay’ a lot.”
“I know.”
The car rattled.
“At least you didn’t say okay.”
They were like a couple on a long trip, arguing whether or not to ask for directions.
“You were gone for a while. I thought you’d abandoned me. What happened?”
She looked at his profile.
“I rolled onto the freeway with a semi on my ass. Plus I needed to think.”
“Okay…”
“I realized that even if I don’t know you, you were on his computer, so he knows you in a way.”
For a few moments, there was only the frozen land of open white fields and the sound of
Head north. Canada. Michigan. Anywhere.
Run . There’s nothing to hold onto .
One night her and her parents were watching The Bourne Identity . Toward the end of the movie, her father had burst out laughing. In the movies, you crashed a car, limped away, and ended up killing men as you flew down the center of a stairwell, clutching a dead man.
“In real life they catch you, kill you, and toss your body in a ditch and you never happened .” He made one of his jokes. “ You were never Bourne .”
One car. Two cars. Three Cars.
And then a Ford Bronco, rattling, wobbling, it’s bumper ripped off, its undercarriage exposed, came at her, horn blaring, and veered off the freeway, brakes engaged, a crazy stunt at a speed she couldn’t even guess at.
She laughed despite herself, despite the moment, despite the ridiculousness of what she was seeing, relieved and happy.
The Calvary, the man in shining armor on the white mechanical horse, the boy named Tyler, came to a stop halfway down the exit.
She hobbled toward him.
He got out.
She was moving as fast as she could but not fast enough.
He yelled.
“ Let’s go !”
It was the coolest thing she’d ever heard.
(15) A Change of Heart
“Are you nuts? You ran into the bridge!”
Limping, laughing, she didn’t care he had a gun in his hand. The truck would be warm.
“You ran into it!”
She smiled, she couldn’t help it; he was so beautiful and so unintentionally funny.
“I sure did.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You crazy woman! You idiot !”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
He let his arm fall, bringing the weapon to his side.
“I thought you were going to park it!”
She limped closer.
“I said I was going to hit it.”
“No you didn’t!”
It was good to argue, good to talk.
“I said I was going to hit the abutment.”
“I thought you meant you were going to run it off the road!”
“You were wrong,” she said, walking to the passenger door.
He raised his gun, pointed it to her.
“Give me your shooter.”
Her shoulders sagged.
“Are you kidding?”
He held up his left hand, palm open.
“Whatever,” she said and opened the door and got in.
He was flummoxed. He opened his door and before he sat down saw she had placed her gun on his seat. He put it in the waist of his pants, attempted to sit, which wasn’t practical, and then placed it on the dashboard. He got in the truck and looked at the gun and then to her. He placed it in the door compartment.
“Comfortable?”
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Nice language.”
He turned onto the road below the freeway and they traveled west, toward her home in Vernon Castle. Sam realized it would be dark by the time they got there.
She looked at her foot, her ankle, which was swelling, and uttered her favorite expletive.
“For god’s sakes…”
“What?”
“I think I broke my foot.”
Tyler said nothing.
“Thank you for coming back.”
He didn’t respond.
She was emphatic.
“Really.”
He nodded.
“I came back for dad.”
His eyes were red and glazed and she understood. She imagined she looked like this when the FBI men came to her door to tell her of her parent’s deaths.
“Okay…”
After a few seconds he said, “You say ‘okay’ a lot.”
“I know.”
The car rattled.
“At least you didn’t say okay.”
They were like a couple on a long trip, arguing whether or not to ask for directions.
“You were gone for a while. I thought you’d abandoned me. What happened?”
She looked at his profile.
“I rolled onto the freeway with a semi on my ass. Plus I needed to think.”
“Okay…”
“I realized that even if I don’t know you, you were on his computer, so he knows you in a way.”
For a few moments, there was only the frozen land of open white fields and the sound of
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