“You finish high school?” Washington asked.
Caleb and I laughed at the same time.
“I guess that’s a no.”
“Weren’t allowed to go to school with all the sinners,” Caleb said. “God forbid we learn something that makes us less obedient.”
“That’s just sad, boy,” Washington said. “You’re better off away from that kind of place.”
“I know that,” Caleb said, with a glance at me. “But the dismount is pretty painful. Now, Josh. Try this.” He pushed one of the glasses to me.
There was a brown liquid inside, and I could see bubbles clinging to the side of the glass. “Coffee?”
“Better,” Caleb insisted. “It’s Coke.”
I took a sip, but ended up coughing because the bubbles tickled my nose.
Watching me, Caleb burst out laughing. “Man, we are going to have to work our way up to beer, I think.” This set Washington off, too, so now they were both having a chuckle at my expense.
I didn’t mind, though. Because the dark liquid was both tangy and sweet. I loved it. And since I was starving, the sugar felt like nectar going down.
“Wow,” Washington said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry to laugh, but how have you never had a Coke?”
“Think of him as a prisoner released from jail, and you won’t be far off.”
“But you’re not?” Washington asked.
I was wondering the same thing.
Caleb shook his head. “My grandpa was somebody important in the hierarchy. So they gave me a lot of the good jobs. I got to drive their trucks around, picking up things they needed. Did some errands. I got good at pinching a little of the change for a drink, or a candy bar. The best part was just being out in the world. I went to the public library in Casper sometimes to read the newspaper. I listened to the news on the radio, which is forbidden. I got just enough to know what I was missing.”
Now I was just staring at him, my mouth hanging open. “You never told me most of that.”
He looked sheepish. “It would have been mean, right? I did all this fun stuff today, I tried Coke. I ate a Twix bar and a taco.” He shook his head. “I never brought anything back. I never even got into the truck with so much as a napkin or a wrapper. Too dangerous.”
I didn’t know how I felt about that. There was a time not too long ago when he and I told each other everything. And I was sad to hear all these things I hadn’t known.
Yet I’d been hiding something huge and awful from Caleb for years, hadn’t I? He’d have to eat a whole lot of sweets to make up for all my sins of omission.
The waitress reappeared with three plates on her two arms. And the next ten minutes were lost to me as I worshiped at the altar of my first truck stop burger with all the fixings, with giant slabs of fried potato.
Wow.
With a full belly, I found it possible to believe that everything just might be okay. Maybe.
Five
AFTER DINNER, WE CLIMBED into Washington’s giant truck. I had wondered how Caleb and I were going to fit onto one passenger seat. I was picturing the overturned milk crate that we used on the compound between the seats of our flatbed truck cab.
But Washington’s truck was roomy and gleaming. And there was even a bunk in the back.
“Somebody sits on the sleeper,” the man said, waving a hand at the bed. “And somebody sits here and talks to me.”
“Sit on the bed,” Caleb ordered. “You look bushed.”
“We’ll take turns,” I promised as Washington cranked the engine, and the big truck hummed to life. The bed was comfortable, though. I scooted back until my spine met the wall, leaving my legs sticking out.
The cab began to move, but I couldn’t see out of the windows from where I sat.
“Where’d you grow up?” Caleb asked.
“Kentucky,” Washington said. “Used to be a tobacco farmer, but trucking pays better…”
I’ll bet we didn’t travel two miles before I fell asleep.
* * *
When I next tuned in to the voices in the cab, I’d slumped over, with my head on the mattress. Washington’s voice droned on in the driver’s seat. I couldn’t make myself pay attention until I heard him say, “is your brother okay?”
Caleb didn’t answer right away. “He’s had a rough couple of days. I’d be exhausted, too.”
That was a good answer. It sounded better than, “he’s getting over a flu, and breathing all over your bed.”
“Can’t imagine why someone throws away his own child,” Washington muttered.
“That’s… yeah,” Caleb sighed. “His real father died young, so he didn’t have a protector. That’s who gets thrown out. It’s all about the pecking order.”
“Makes sense.”
“I mean… if you ask Josh, he might tell you that he’s not a good farmer, or not as strong as some. They’ve been telling him that all his life. But that’s crap. Every year, perfectly good workers get tossed out. And all because the older guys each want four wives.”
Washington gave an unhappy grunt. “I dunno. One wife seems like plenty most of the time.”
They both laughed. But I was stuck on what Caleb had said. That we were here right now because of politics, and not because I couldn’t throw a fifty pound bag of chicken feed onto a truck bed.
“You’re not really brothers,” Washington observed.
“Well,” Caleb hedged. “Pretty close, though. Our mothers were friends. I never went a day of my life without sitting next to him.”
“Hmm. You two had a kinda fucked up life. But most people don’t have friends so close. Real community is rare now most places.”
“Yeah? I never thought about it that way.”
“You know,” Washington said, “you ain’t the first kids I ever helped. Usually I don’t pick nobody up if he isn’t real young. Like a teenager. And I never picked up two at once. But you two just don’t smell like criminals.”
“I don’t know, Washington,” Caleb teased. “Earlier I confessed to stealing candy money from the till.” They had another chuckle, and the truck seemed to slow down. “Where are we stopping?”
“North Platte, Nebraska.”
“Cool. My first time out of Wyoming.”
“Christ, boy. Really?”
“Yessir.”
“You amuse me. Both of you. First thing I ever heard you two talk about was whether your brother knew what a blow job was.” He laughed, but then Washington’s tone got more serious. “Imma get a room at that hotel right over there, and you two can sleep in the truck.”
That prompted me to speak up for the first time in hours. “We can’t take your bed.”
Washington waved a dismissive hand. “I only spend every other night in that bunk, because I’m not a youngster anymore. There’s a travel budget, and I haven’t hit it too hard lately. I save up for emergencies, and this is one.”
“I’ll pay,” I volunteered.
He shook his dark head. “Don’t you worry. I get to watch some TV and take a long shower. Can’t do that at a truck stop. But listen, I have some rules. I gotta take the keys with me, which means you two are going to visit the men’s room now and take care of business while I fuel up. Then I lock you in.”
“Okay,” Caleb agreed.
“You have an emergency, you can leave the truck one at a time. Always stay in well-lit areas, okay? Truck stops are not all so great. This one is decent, but you never know. And nobody gets in this truck except for you.”
“Sure,” I said. “But who would want to?”
He chuckled. “Nobody you need to talk to. Lot lizards, for one. Those are prostitutes, and don’t be tempted. Druggies, most of them, with angry pimps. Not safe. If anybody knocks who ain’t me, that’s bad news. They want to sell you drugs or pussy.”
“That is not our way,” Caleb promised.
“I’m sure that’s true, but I gotta say it anyway. You two’ve never seen the good things in this country, but I’ll
bet you haven’t seen the bad ones, neither. Trust nobody.”
“Except for you. And us,” Caleb joked.
Washington smiled. “My truck better be here when I get back. Don’t steal from me. I like you guys.”
“Never,” Caleb said. “You’re the first person who’s been nice to us, pretty much ever.”
“That’s not true,” I said as a reflex. “Your mother loves you. And Miriam.”
“My mother never protected me from the men who used me like a cart horse. And Miriam can’t help herself, because I’m awesome.”
“Poor kid got no self-esteem,” Washington joked. Then we all got out of the truck.
* * *
In the truck stop men’s room, I used Caleb’s toothbrush and refilled his water bottle.
Washington was waiting for us beside the cab. “Sleep tight, and be safe,” he said as we climbed in. “There’s a blanket above the bunk. If you put that on the floor, one of you could stretch out there.”
“You don’t have to worry about us,” I told him. “And we won’t even touch the doors.”
“I know. I’ll come back around seven so we can get some breakfast. Can’t drive until eight, because there’s a mandated ten hours off.”
“See you at seven.”
He slammed the door, and I watched him walk toward the hotel. When he disappeared, I turned to Caleb. “He’s an angel in disguise.”
“Something like that. You take the bed.”
“No can do. I already slept there, some. You stretch out.”
“You’ve been ill.”
“I’m not an invalid, okay? Lie down.”
Grumbling a little, he did. I sat in the roomy passenger seat, my stocking feet on the dash. A peaceful silence descended on us. Caleb was probably tired, but my nap had perked me up, and now my mind was busy just trying to process everything that had happened since yesterday morning.
Could things get any weirder?
For the first time in my life, I was a long way away from the compound. But it was weird to picture our room in the bunkhouse right now. Ezekiel and David would still be there, lying in their bunks like any other night. Were our two bunks empty? Or had they wasted no time moving two teenage boys into our spots?
That’s probably what they’d done. Cover up the violence. Nothing to see here.
I wondered if my mother had been told. And I wondered if she cared. Caleb’s mother would. And Miriam. “Poor Miriam,” I said aloud. “I wonder when Asher will marry her.”
From the bunk, Caleb groaned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not like I don’t feel guilty. But Josh, I couldn’t save her.”
“I understand,” I said quickly.
But he wasn’t finished. “See, I don’t think you do understand. Even if I asked for Miriam’s hand, and by some miracle they allowed us to marry, it still wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of reasons. Even if we got married, and somehow I’m able to build her a house, even though there isn’t any more money for new houses…”
“There isn’t?”
“No. That’s why Ezra doesn’t have a wife. The compound is broke. But even if all that weren’t standing in the way, Miriam would still end up hating me.”
“She would never.”
Caleb thumped his hand on the mattress. “Yeah, she would. Because do you think they’d let me be the one guy with only one wife?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I guess not.”
“Right. So imagine I have two wives, then three. Miriam, plus a couple of poor young things who played with dolls when you and I were already working the farm. And it’s the usual henhouse crap, everybody trying to figure out who’s the favorite wife. Instead of saving Miriam, I get to be the guy who helps break her soul. Hooray for me.”
“Oh,” I said softly.
“Yeah. Not such a pretty picture, right? I don’t want three wives. I don’t even want one.”
“You don’t? Why?”
From the bunk came a big sigh. “No more talking tonight, okay? I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Soon, soft snores came from the bed.
I sat up a long time, watching trucks pull in and out of the lot. And when I finally fell asleep, I dreamt about Caleb warming me up in the hotel bed the previous night. But the dream was a whole lot more interesting than the reality had been.
* * *
By morning, I had a cramped neck and stiff legs.
“You didn’t stretch out?” Caleb asked. “I would have switched places with you.”
“Didn’t think of it,” I lied. When I woke in the night, he’d looked so peaceful on the bunk that I didn’t want to disturb him.
Breakfast was the Two Egg Special in the truck stop diner, a bargain at $2.99. I tried coffee, which I did not like, until Washington suggested adding some half and half. Then I liked it so well I drank every drop.
We saddled up at eight o’clock to drive all day. Caleb sat in front for awhile, while I napped on the bed. When we switched places, I enjoyed watching the scenery roll past the window. We passed Lincoln, and I made Washington laugh by remarking that it was a big city. Soon after, we passed Omaha, and then Des Moines, which both put Lincoln to shame.
We stopped for lunch (another heavenly burger) and dinner (a bowl of soup, because I wasn’t very hungry for real this time.)
Washington bought a newspaper, and asked Caleb to read him the sports section out loud. I didn’t understand half of what he was reading. First down? Punt? Touch back? It was like a different language.
When night fell, we hit Chicago, which was fascinating. And Washington said we weren’t even in the real Chicago—just passing a lot of the sprawl to the south of it. But I still couldn’t believe it. The nighttime lights seemed to stretch on forever. The sky wasn’t even black here, it was a sort of orange color. You couldn’t see any stars, because Chicago was just too bright.
I was staring at the strange sky when the truck bobbled a little, and something began to beep on the dashboard.
“Aw, shit,” Washington said, gripping the big steering wheel tightly. “Hang on, boys!”
The road got very rough for a minute, and Washington braked hard, steering us down a shadowed exit ramp.
“What’s the matter?” Caleb asked when we finally stopped moving. “Did you really just get a flat?”
“Sure did.”
“Hell. Can we change it ourselves? Those big rims are probably dangerous.”
“Correct, son. We gotta call a tire shop to come out and do it for us.” He reached for his phone and dropped it into his shirt pocket. Then he unhooked his seatbelt.
“Is this gonna set you back?” Caleb worried. “I know you keep a tight schedule.”
“Sure will. But that ain’t the biggest problem. This is not in a good place to be stranded. And I gotta set flares, it’s a safety regulation.” He removed a molded plastic box from under the driver’s seat and popped it open. “Imma be right back. Now stay in the truck, you hear? This here is a shitty neighborhood. With a capital ‘shit.’ You sit tight.”
When Washington left the truck, Caleb slid into the driver’s seat, watching from the rear-view mirror. After the flares were set, Washington stood in front of his truck, making his phone call. Then he took a walk around the truck again to look at the tire.
Although this stretch of road was awfully quiet, before long, a car stopped, pulling up in front of us.
“That is not the tire truck. That guy looks like a real punk,” Caleb said unhappily. “And why would you park right there, if you weren’t trying to look intimidating?”
I looked, and saw that two guys got out of the sedan. Both of them were all muscle, wearing T-shirts with the arms ripped off, and bandanas tied on their heads.
Slowly, as if trying not to make any noise, Caleb eased the driver’s door open a couple of inches so that he could listen.
The men
walked slowly toward Washington, their eyes roaming the truck.
“Get down,” Caleb hissed. He and I dipped our heads to avoid attention.
“What you hauling, old man?” one of the men asked Washington. “You need some help?”
“No thank you. I already called roadside assistance. They’re on the way.”
“Why don’t you show us what’s in the truck?”
All the hair stood up on the back of my neck.
Washington’s voice was calm, though. “Can’t do that, son. Against the rules. I need this job. The load is for a paper company, though. Couldn’t be nothing too interesting.”
That was a lie, though. Washington had told us last night that he was hauling a whole lot of bottled wine for a California distributor.
Caleb ducked down, grabbing his backpack off the floor.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer me.
Outside, the men had stepped even closer to Washington, and now I was sweating. “Where your keys at?” the bigger man pressed.
“Don’t do that,” Washington warned. “Roadside is going to pull up, anyway.”
“I don’t see nobody coming.”
I couldn’t see Washington now, I could only hear his voice. But the next thing he said was, “get your hands off me!”
“Where’s your wallet, pops? Is it in your cab? Yo. Check the cab!”
And now I was in a full panic.
Caleb grabbed my wrist. “Josh,” he hissed. “Don’t move from your seat unless one of those guys is climbing in here.” The next second he disappeared out the door.
I held my breath, wondering what he thought he was going to do to help. And that’s when I heard the cock of a gun.
My heart seized as I pictured Caleb at the wrong end of the gun.
But it was his voice that shouted, “Get the fuck away from him before I fuck you both up!”
I couldn’t see him, though, so my heart was in my throat until the two men reappeared in my line of vision, hurrying back into the car.
Seconds later, they pulled away, tires squealing.