Even though it's risky with all the men down there, you decide to go ahead and chance it. You can't wait around here in case the boys come back with the cops.

You creep down behind a short row of buildings and look for a train aimed toward the west. There aren't any really close by, but there are a couple not too far away. They're mostly long strings of hoppers and in a few places there are sections of flatcars. All the boxcars seem to be locked up good and tight.

You're still trying to find just the right one when a large hand clamps down on your shoulder and whirls you around.

"You shouldn't be back here, boy," booms a deep gravelly voice.

You are staring into a drawn face covered by a dark beard with gray streaks down each side. Besides the withered face, he fills out his overalls with a body three sizes too big and could quite possibly be just as thick from front to back as he is tall.

"Let's see if we can't figure out who you belong to."

Despite your resistance, he propels you along in his meaty grip and it feels like your feet only touch the ground every second or third step. You manage to hang onto your stuff, but only barely.

He leads you through the door of one of the guard houses and says to the guy in uniform "I caught this kid prowling around out there. Do something with him, would ya?", shoving you forward. Without waiting for an answer, he revolves around on his heels and steps back through the door.



"We've found a young kid playing in the yard and need someone to come pick him up," says the guard to someone on the telephone. "I don't know. Never seen him before. Okay, I'll keep an eye on him until he gets here. Bye."

He hangs up the phone and turns toward you. "You got a name, kid?"

You just stare back at him. There's no way you're going to tell him anything.

"Okay… It might be a while, you want a soda or something?"

You just stand there with as blank an expression as you can muster even though you are stewing inside.



It isn't long before an officer arrives and hauls you down to the police station where you're forced to wait until they finally figure out who you are and where your home is. It takes them several hours and all the while you're watching for any opportunity to escape that never presents its self.



You're led to an unmarked patrol car and—after the officer in a business suit places your bag in the trunk—ushered into the passenger seat. "Climb in and make yourself comfortable, it's going to be a long ride."

You reluctantly climb in and he closes the door behind you. After he slides the key into the ignition he says "You can call me Jim, by the way. If you need anything, just say so."

He starts the engine and backs out of the parking space. You're just pulling out onto the street when you finally can't hold it in any longer. You already suspect what the answer will be, but have to give it a shot anyhow.

"I need to go to the Grand Canyon. It's real important. Can you take me there before you take me home?"

He looks over at you and perks an eyebrow. "Is that where you were headed? I must say that you made it farther away from home than anyone would've guessed. Why is it so important?"

"I have to go there for Jane. She died and never got to see it."

You see him swallow a huge lump in his throat. It takes him well over a minute before he can speak again. "I heard about your little friend from the officer I spoke to from back in your home town. He didn't know whether you'd just run off or if something bad had happened to you. The whole town's been combing the entire countryside for you." After wiping his eye with the back of his wrist, he brings his palm down hard against the steering wheel. And then he pounds it hard a couple more times. "I wish I could, son. I really do. But, that's nearly a whole state away in the wrong direction and they already know we're on our way."

You lean back against the seat and stare out the side window. You've come too far to be turned back now. All of your stuff is locked in the trunk so you have little choice but to sit here and accept your fate. The mile markers on the highway click by like the incessant ticking of a metronome arm.

It's hopeless. It's all over.

You accept your fate

You have no choice but to accept your fate. If when you get back and if you manage to survive, you will try again. It might not be for a long, long time because you will be watched like a hawk—provided your mom doesn't kill you this time around as soon as there's no one around to see.

The landscape flows by in a constantly changing sea. You barely pick at the food that is given to you. You just don't feel eating.

Days turn into nights and nights turn into days. You get your own bed in motels where Officer Jim stops each night—which would be exciting any other time, but not now. Now, everything feels like it has a dark cloud hanging over it.

It only takes two days to get home, but it feels like an eternity. And in all that time you don't utter even one syllable. You just have to get this over with.

I'm sorry, Jane. I failed you this time, but I will try again if I can. I promise you.



— The End