A few more miles into the wind

A little short on time this evening, so below may not seem as realistic as it could be, but the bare bone are there, and of course, there is a second version to this, but it’s not finished yet…

The long road

Sheryn’s been making quick his departure, coming down from the far North West of Canada, cutting through The States as quick as he could on his classic custom Bonneville, but here’s his last truck stop before he leaves the US on the way to Cape Horn, just a few miles, and it’s Mexico. The tank is full, and the man is paid, just a quick break, and back on the road to continue the run south.

As Sheryn rounds the corner to the building, he has a narrow miss with a woman leaving the ladies bathroom, she gave him a smile, or so he thought, but it was probably closer to that she was singing a song aloud, and then she was gone. That’s when he heard it, the sound of two kneecaps crashing hard into the floor of the female bathroom, followed by uncontrollable sobbing . Turning sharp, Sheryn pushes the door open to find another woman, kneeling on the floor now in silence, she looks up staring, and says in alarm…

“I need to get out of here, I need to get out of here now. But what do I do with this?” The women drags out from the stall an open large duffel bag loaded with bundles of cash. Sheryn gives a confused look, until he remembers the local PD, Sheriffs, and fire department all over the place two miles back up the road.

“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me. My lover, my fool lover, an old friend I’d not seen in years, got himself killed in an horrific crash. I was a passenger, (starting to sob as she speaks, almost uncontrollably). The car, the car, it exploded into flames, I did not even know what, why he jumped into his car, and we took off, rocketing up the highway, then I hear the sirens closing in behind us. We, we, spun out of control, then to flip, and barrel roll across, across the road into a telegraph pole. It caught fire, he, he was stuck, I was free. Matt, he grabbed the bag, and shoved it at me, saying take, take, now run. The fire, the fire, it was out of control, I couldn’t do anything else. I gave Matt one last kiss, then turned my back, and I ran. The, the, the explosion I heard, I dared not look back. I kept running, I ran for two miles, and now I’m here, and I’ve no idea what to do. I know, I know he’s dead.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“What?”

“I ashed, did anyone see you?”

“No, no, I’m not sure.”

“Here let me help you up.”

Sheryn helps the woman to her feet, picks up the bag, and guides her as they walk back around to inside the building without saying a word to one another. She drys her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt, as Sheryn dumps the bag hard down onto the counter, a few bundles of cash bounce out in front of the service personnel.

“There are some people up the road looking for this, we found it out in the middle of the road, please make sure they get it all, and here’s a hundred for your troubles. Have a nice day, y’all,” and with the few words said, and no other exchanges…

Sheryn then takes the woman by the hand, and as they exit the door he says… “I’m headed as far south as anyone can go on my ride over there,” as he points to the Bonneville on its stand by the pump. You’re welcome to tag along if you’ve nothing else going.”

She laughs, ‘The name’s Bonnie, I’m just a little ol’orphan from Nebraska,  I’ve no family left up north anymore, lost the folks, and siblings to an avalanche two months ago. So I’ve only known Matt for three weeks, poor Matt, if I only knew, I would of stopped him. Before this year, the last time I saw him, we were ten.”

“Sorrow to hear about so much bad news has knocked you around, not sure how to help you on those counts, lose is always difficult, and in tragic circumstances. So you want to come to South America, it’s a grand place this time of year.” Sheryn looks at Bonnie, as a small smile lights up across her face.

Gathering her composure, “No, no, I better not. Best I wait for the sheriff too. But how can I get in contact with you, if I want to come down later? That’s if they let me, and have not locked me away, or something”

Taking out a pen, and notebook from his jacket, Sheryn writes down a phone number with the letters Ro after it, and tears the page out, “If you call this number, Ro will be able to find me for you.”

Both standing right next to the Bonneville, Sheryn cranks it over, and climbs back on, ” Well you take care, Bonnie from Nebraska, and all the best with the sheriff.”

As Sheryn pulls out of the truck stop, “Bonnie yells, but what’s your name?”

He signals for her to turn the paper over, as it reads, “Sheryn Whistler, New Zealand Wanderer.” He smiles, and then accelerates out of there, thinking just a few more miles to the border, and a few thousand more on crossing.

To follow, Julie Ro…

One response to “A few more miles into the wind

  1. Pingback: Revised in thought to a thirteen degree sun | Sean Bidd·

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