Note: Yes I know Zack/Adam's last name is
Thompson but I'm using it for Bud and Mary's instead.
Adam had made up
his mind.
He was going to leave the ranch and go to Seattle. He would find
the girl that kept haunting his dreams and would get the answers to his
questions.
And to his past.
He slowed Friska to a walk as he reached the ranch. Quickly he untacked her and put her in her stall in the stables. He gently rubbed her muzzle. She nickered softly and nudged his shoulder. He felt his eyes sting with suppressed tears. He would miss her.
Walking away from the stables he headed toward the house. It was empty. Bud was working in one of the fields and Mary was gone. She had left a note on the fridge saying that she was going to town to get a few things and had taken the truck. Adam read the note quickly. He bit his lip. He would miss Bud and Mary they had been good to him, treating him like their own son. He pushed away his thoughts. He had to do this.
He then went up to his room to pack his belongings. He didn't really have much anyway: basic toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a wallet of money and a sector pass to get him into Seattle. All of that he packed into a rucksack.
He swung the rucksack onto his back and started walking out of his room. He paused in the doorway of the room, it didn't feel right to just leave without telling the Thompsons. They had been far too good to him to just leave without any notice. He walked over to his dresser and pulling open a drawer he took out a pen and paper. He frowned at the paper thinking. After a few minutes he started writing.
He wrote:
Dear Bud and Mary,
I'm leaving for Seattle. I want to thank you both for all you've done for me. Someday when I've got everything figured out and fixed I'll come back. Until then take care of yourselves.
Sincerely,
Adam.
He folded the piece of paper and left it on his pillow. Leaving the room he went downstairs to the kitchen and took a few supplies of food. It wasn't much just enough to tide him over for a few days. Stuffing the food into his rucksack along with the rest of his belongings, he left the house.
There was a garage behind the house.
It housed the Thompson's truck, the farm tractor and Adam's most prized possession: his motorcycle. They had gotten it about a month or so after Adam's "accident."
Before Adam had fixed it up it had been a wreck, flat tires, an engine that should belong in a scrap dump instead of in a motorcycle and it had been so covered with dirt and grime whatever color it had once been was impossible to tell.
But Adam had fixed it up. Both tires had air in it now, it also had a new engine that purred like a kitten and all the dirt and grime had been washed away revealing that it was a black Harley Davidson Intruder*.
Adam opened the garage door and strode over to his motorcycle.
"Hey baby," he said softly gently stroking the leather seat.
He wheeled it out of the garage and closed the door behind him. He swung onto the motorcycle and started it up. The engine purred softly and the frame shook slightly as if it was impatient to start moving. Adam grinned and put his helmet on. Pulling down the visor over his face, he started the motorcycle up, and roared away from the Thompson's ranch.
The ride to Seattle usually took six or seven hours, but Adam cut it down to four. The Intruder seemed to fly over the ground. He leaned forward grinning behind his visor. There was nothing in the world to compare to the feeling of riding a fast motorcycle, you were so free you felt you could almost take off into the sky and soar like a bird.
He slowed down as he reached the checkpoint that lead to Seattle. If you weren't approved by the sector police you didn't get in.
Period.
There was a huge line and it was moving very slowly. The sector police were taking their time today.
Adam stilled the engine and contented himself to wait. After almost three hours he was in front of the sector police. He handed one of them his sector pass. The man scanned it quickly to make sure everything was in order before handing it back to Adam. He waved at him impatiently to continue on.
Sector police, you can always count on them to be polite, Adam thought wryly.
Right before him was Seattle. The City might be dirty, dilapidated, crime filled and overall poor; but underneath all the dirt, pollution and dust, it still held the same majesty and elegance that had made it one of the most powerful cities in pre-pulse America.
And here in Seattle, he would find the answers to his past.
My stepdad has a Harley Davidson Intruder. It's one cool bike! Of course he'd kill me if I ever even touched it. :: rolls eyes:: .
Ja!
Jessie.
