It was night. Johnny and I had baloney sandwiches and waited for the
train. We didn't even know if one was coming. I heard crickets making
that funny noise close to us, then far, like a sound in a fun house. I
heard animals that sounded like crying children.
A train rattled in. I had no idea what time it was, I had lost all sense of time.
"That's it, that one," Johnny said and went toward it, hopped on. I followed him, not sure how he knew but unable to think. I wanted him to think for me.
We went past the country towns, went backward toward the scene of the crime, rattled into Tulsa while it was still dark. I didn't sleep on the train this time.
Tulsa felt like it knew all about us, we were marked. I saw cops behind every tree and car, creeping toward us. I began to wonder about the wisdom of trying to find Dallas.
"Johnny, what time is it?" I said, but I knew he never wore a watch. Neither did I.
"Midnight," he said, then grabbed me suddenly and pulled me down behind a parked car. A car roared by and I peeked. It wasn't a cop.
"This isn't a good idea," I said. We shouldn't be here, the only problem was I didn't know where we should be.
"You want Dally thinkin' we're dead or somethin'? " Johnny said, but not mad. I didn't care what he thought. But Johnny did.
"No, I guess not,"
"O.k., then, c'mon," I followed him, he seemed to know where he was going and I was starting to feel a sort of numbed obedience, thinking was hurting. I followed him past the cops who turned out to be clever arrangements of shadows, past the familiar streets that looked twisted somehow. Maybe it was me. I was the twisted one. I didn't think I was dealing with things very well anymore. I tried to tell Johnny.
"Johnny, I don't, I..." He wasn't listening, he was staring across the street at some bar.
"We're never gonna find him," he said so softly I almost couldn't hear him. I sat on the curb, too exhausted to stand. Johnny sat, too.
"Let's go someplace warm, make up new names for ourselves, never come back," I said.
"Let's turn ourselves in," Johnny said, "this isn't fair to you, it isn't fair making everyone worry about you," I wondered what time it was again, it seemed like it had been dark too long. There was no one around but I was still afraid, afraid a cop would come and nab us, afraid a soc would try to kill us. I felt the book in my back pocket again and wanted to take it out and read it, live in the Civil War for awhile instead of here, where no turn was the right one and no choice led us out of this maze.
"Do you think I'll go to Hell?" Johnny said in a surprisingly calm voice. I'd been too worried about keeping him alive to worry about where he would go after he died.
"I don't know,"
I didn't feel right, like something was wrong and I should know what it is, but my mind seemed to be filled with the red haze again and I panicked. Maybe I was still drowning and that is why everything seemed so fluid and so slow. Maybe I was dead and this was my version of Hell, constantly running from the police and my brothers because I had done something terrible. If that was so then I could answer Johnny's question. If I was in Hell then so was he. And where was the dawn? This night seemed to have gone on for days and days.
I shook my head to clear it and I realized that Johnny had been speaking to me, was still speaking, "didn't mean to, I honestly didn't mean to kill that boy but, but," he put his hands over his face, his head down. He could have been crying, I wasn't sure. I felt beyond crying, numb, trying to adjust to this night that couldn't seem to end.
It was unscripted now. Johnny was crying, silent crying and his shoulders were shaking with the sobs. I was unable to comfort him, felt slow and languid, underwater. I looked at the sky and it was pitch black, like looking up through water at night. I was sure of it now. The dawn would never come.
A train rattled in. I had no idea what time it was, I had lost all sense of time.
"That's it, that one," Johnny said and went toward it, hopped on. I followed him, not sure how he knew but unable to think. I wanted him to think for me.
We went past the country towns, went backward toward the scene of the crime, rattled into Tulsa while it was still dark. I didn't sleep on the train this time.
Tulsa felt like it knew all about us, we were marked. I saw cops behind every tree and car, creeping toward us. I began to wonder about the wisdom of trying to find Dallas.
"Johnny, what time is it?" I said, but I knew he never wore a watch. Neither did I.
"Midnight," he said, then grabbed me suddenly and pulled me down behind a parked car. A car roared by and I peeked. It wasn't a cop.
"This isn't a good idea," I said. We shouldn't be here, the only problem was I didn't know where we should be.
"You want Dally thinkin' we're dead or somethin'? " Johnny said, but not mad. I didn't care what he thought. But Johnny did.
"No, I guess not,"
"O.k., then, c'mon," I followed him, he seemed to know where he was going and I was starting to feel a sort of numbed obedience, thinking was hurting. I followed him past the cops who turned out to be clever arrangements of shadows, past the familiar streets that looked twisted somehow. Maybe it was me. I was the twisted one. I didn't think I was dealing with things very well anymore. I tried to tell Johnny.
"Johnny, I don't, I..." He wasn't listening, he was staring across the street at some bar.
"We're never gonna find him," he said so softly I almost couldn't hear him. I sat on the curb, too exhausted to stand. Johnny sat, too.
"Let's go someplace warm, make up new names for ourselves, never come back," I said.
"Let's turn ourselves in," Johnny said, "this isn't fair to you, it isn't fair making everyone worry about you," I wondered what time it was again, it seemed like it had been dark too long. There was no one around but I was still afraid, afraid a cop would come and nab us, afraid a soc would try to kill us. I felt the book in my back pocket again and wanted to take it out and read it, live in the Civil War for awhile instead of here, where no turn was the right one and no choice led us out of this maze.
"Do you think I'll go to Hell?" Johnny said in a surprisingly calm voice. I'd been too worried about keeping him alive to worry about where he would go after he died.
"I don't know,"
I didn't feel right, like something was wrong and I should know what it is, but my mind seemed to be filled with the red haze again and I panicked. Maybe I was still drowning and that is why everything seemed so fluid and so slow. Maybe I was dead and this was my version of Hell, constantly running from the police and my brothers because I had done something terrible. If that was so then I could answer Johnny's question. If I was in Hell then so was he. And where was the dawn? This night seemed to have gone on for days and days.
I shook my head to clear it and I realized that Johnny had been speaking to me, was still speaking, "didn't mean to, I honestly didn't mean to kill that boy but, but," he put his hands over his face, his head down. He could have been crying, I wasn't sure. I felt beyond crying, numb, trying to adjust to this night that couldn't seem to end.
It was unscripted now. Johnny was crying, silent crying and his shoulders were shaking with the sobs. I was unable to comfort him, felt slow and languid, underwater. I looked at the sky and it was pitch black, like looking up through water at night. I was sure of it now. The dawn would never come.