Chapter 8: Missing Stephanie

After three days of around the clock driving, averaging 240 miles a day, Slim and company arrive in Gothenburg in the late evening. Except for nature calls, they never stopped slowly moving, at a battery conserving speed. Slim runs on his own angry energy, feeds on it, and depends upon it, to keep pushing the limit. Mr. Smith spells Slim at the wheel, so he had numerous short naps, but only enough to refresh his tired eyes, not improve his disposition. This trip isn’t one Slim would ever wish to repeat with these same people, because, Ann, Cappy, and Susan continually, and regularly foul the atmosphere with their stinks.

Mr. Smith never complains. Slim sometimes wishes he were stoic, too, but stoicism is too similar to pacifism. His anger, his fuel for pressing on, his perseverance, would likely desert him. Admiring it in others, he’ll never adopt a stoic philosophy of hopeless futility. Strive On!

Once Cappy and company are dropped off, and garaged, securely locked in, Slim connects the truck to a charging station, and leaves it, sick of it. With no other option, Slim next goes to his new office. Mr. Smith, as his house guest for the evening, accompanies him. Spartan, but secure shelter, the office does have one feature Slim is anxious to use. He promptly phones Yellowstone, immediately when they’re inside. Offers the sofa for Mr. Smith’s use, while he listens impatiently to the intermittent buzzes indicating it’s ringing at the other end. No answer. Damn! In resignation, a dejected Slim replaces the phone gently on the hook, with trembling hand. His impulse is to slam t, but he maintains control with effort. Self discipline reins.

“Perhaps Red is out of the office temporarily. He’s awake all night, every night, but I wouldn’t hold out hope young Stephanie camps by the phone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith for those consoling words.” Slim says bitterly, but grins. Unrolling his bed roll on the carpet, Slim practically uses the waiting time. In a dozen minutes or so, he will try again.

The phone’s ringing jars Slim into action. Snatching it up to his ear, he listens raptly. It’s Red. He saw the missed call, and is calling back. Unfortunately, Stephanie isn’t there and can’t be called to the phone. Red’s sorry, but regretfully, he can’t say where Stephanie has gone, other than, he knows she left willingly, and with a young man. She was riding on the back of a motorcycle. She’s presumed visiting, and safe with friends. No information, there’s nothing known of her plans, if any, about returning or when or at all.

Slim feels frantic, but too exhausted to act frantic. He wishes he could dash away in mad foolish questing seeking Stephanie. His heart aches for her own aching heart, and he’s certain that heartbreak is her reason for flight. Just as certain is he, he’s the culprit responsible for her heart breaking. She’s too young to understand, and wishing she could, doesn’t solve the problem.

Well, how about himself? Is he less irrational, with decades of advanced experience in living, over her? Exactly why did he offer to marry her in the first place? Because, she had no friends or family to care for her.

Now, apparently, she does. She’s too young to marry, in any and every sense of immaturity. Having friends to care for her, doesn’t that now let Slim off the hook? The responsibility hook, just maybe. But the hook in his heart is buried too deep to shake off. He’s desperately in love with her. Misses Stephanie terribly, and it hurts. Hurts something fierce!

Where could she have gone? Back to the Franklin’s place? She only knew them, for what, two days? Hardly time to create bonds. Though Cappy did!

Cappy and his new family disembark at a centrally located abandoned self storage facility, conveniently within walking distance from government headquarters. His ultralight plane is in a padlocked storage unit here. When he first arrived in Gothenburg, months ago, he selected two of the largest units. One for the ultralight, and it’s mate Cappy early outfitted as sleeping quarters, and storage for other gear and supplies.

“I don’t like this place, Cappy, it seems rather prison like.” Ann stands close, very close by his side, hugging his arm.

“What you sense, is high security, Ann. Prisons lock up people. Here, people lock up possessions. Both types of places are as secure as they can be made to be. The fencing is to keep thieves, looters, and marauders out. Not to lock you in. Ann? Does this, here remind you of some bad experience somewhere else? Were you ever imprisoned, Ann?”

“It feels bad here! I don’t like it. Take us to a hotel, a nice one. Don’t ask about my past. I intend forgetting lots of past things. Treat me good, help me forget the bad, Cappy.”

“Afraid I can’t afford to do that. The hotel. I haven’t received my pay, yet. Tomorrow is payday, I hope. Don’t worry, we’ll be comfortable here for what remains of tonight”

“Will you be rich tomorrow, when they pay you for all these months back salary, Cappy?”