Chapter 4

Timmy couldn't bring himself to lie back down on the filthy mattress beside Tom. He thought about roaming around the house until he found another place to sleep, but remembered Steve. Given Steve's anger, Timmy wasn't sure it was safe to be within Steve's reach. Since the bathroom not only had a door, there was even a lock, he decided to stay inside and wait for the sky to lighten enough to see. He scrambled into the scroungy dry bathtub and leaned back. He began to nod off...

A noise startled him awake. He shook his head, and tried to remember where he was. He heard a car door, and his heart began pounding. The owner of the house! He didn't know what would happen if he were discovered, but he didn't want to find out. Timmy got out of the bathtub, half falling on the rim. He peered through the window and saw a large man in a red flannel shirt coming onto the rickety front porch just left of the window he was looking out of. The front door to the house gave a squeal as it opened, and Timmy used that moment to throw up the sash window and dive through it. Thank goodness the sash wasn't stuck to the frame. He fell down hard on one knee and a wrist, struggled to his feet and limped hurriedly to the road. He might have heard a shout behind him, but he wasn't sure.

He kept moving along until he was well away from the house. Looking around, he tried to figure out what time it was. Given that it was now light, but the sun had not yet risen, it must have been very early. He didn't appear to have many options. He knew roughly where he was, and that was well out in the country and away from services and pay phones. The only thing to do was to start walking and hope that there was enough traffic that he could hitch a ride. Little wiggly forms and tiny sparkles of light flickered across his vision, the lingering after effects of the lsd.

It was cool, and Timmy hunched his shoulders as he trudged along, limping slightly. He hadn't planned on being exposed to the weather, and only had on a thin shirt. As he walked, he warmed up, but his feet began to hurt. Long unused muscles began to protest. He wished he had a drink or some pot or anything to distract him or make him warmer. He walked on. After a few miles, he began to feel like he was floating. The first car startled him as it zoomed past, so detached was he that he didn't hear it approach. Within a few minutes he caught the sound of another; he spun around with his thumb out. He spied the widely frightened eyes of the elderly driver as the car practically went off the other side of the road to avoid him. There was nothing to do but to keep going.

Not a car slowed down out of the many that were venturing forth now that the day was well underway. He had no idea of how far he had walked, only that he was tired and thirsty and ached everywhere. His anus felt like it was on fire. The area was swampy, and there wasn't even a place on the side of the road where he could rest. He plodded on.

Finally he reached the primary road into which the smaller lane fed. Although there were no businesses at the intersection, a couple of fair sized rocks were just across the pavement. He wearily made his way to one and sat. He caught the funk of his unwashed body as the smell wafted up past his nose. He wished he had anything, even a drink of water. When the sound of an approaching car became audible from the end of the little two lane road, he creakily stood up and went back to the edge to hitchhike again. An instant later, he had flung himself back past the rocks and into the swampy muck down the bank - he had recognized Tom and Steve. He listened with horror as their car stopped by the rocks. Although they called to him, making rude comments and cackling wildly, they didn't follow him into the mire. Eventually they gave up and left, and Timmy squelched back up out of the swamp. He noticed that now, in addition to all the other odors, he smelled like boggy decay.

He went back to the rocks. He found that if he sat on the dirt behind the largest rock, he was hidden from passersby. Letting his head drop forward, he fell asleep.

Sometime later, he slowly came awake. It was very hot. Groaning as he unwound his stiff body, he stood up and stretched. Overall, he felt a small measure better, although he was very thirsty and hungry. He brushed the leaf litter and loose dirt from his pants, and started walking along the road again.

Cars were frequent at this time of day on what was obviously a well used highway, and he put his thumb up as each one came near. Several autos passed with the drivers inspecting him nervously. Finally a mid-sized white car pulled over a ways past him on the verge. He noticed it bore a South Carolina license plate, from a long ways south of New England. The back door sprang open, and a young fellow with a cowboy hat and boots jumped out.

"Come on now, hurry up," the man called to him with a down home accent. Timmy forced himself into a slow jog. He stopped abruptly when he got to the car. It had four men in it, and Tex (or whatever his name was) obviously expected him to jump into the back in the middle. Seeing his hesitation, Tex grabbed him and pushed him into the car, and jammed himself in beside Timmy. The driver peeled out and went on down the highway.