On the Run by M Zeigler (short story to read TXT) 📖

here.” I say trying to sound cute and cuddly, Leah gives a girlish laugh. “Cute.” Leah says quietly with a bit of a squeak in her tone as she wrings her hands together. On my way around Barrette I smack his butt, causing him to tense up and glare at me as I leave the building. Glancing back to the door I see the woman trying to not laugh at how I was just acting. Point has been hung, and buried.

Barrette comes out just as I’m pushing buttons to activate the pump; his arms are full with the items we bought, all of which are separated into four different bags. Barrette has a very bemused expression on his face and a negative vibe emanating from his person.

The way he is carrying the bags is odd to me, he has the case of water in his hands with all four bags stacked on top of the case. I wouldn’t have even tried to do that, when it comes to simple tasks like balance and carrying heavy items, you will watch this woman go from ninja to a complete klutz in no time! I manage to be one skilled highly dangerous person, and at the same time be the clumsiest person on the face of this earth.

“What’s wrong sweetie?” I laugh childishly to Barrette who grumbles something under his breath as he struggles to open the car door with his little finger knowing I’m not making any move to help. Not because I want to watch him struggle, in fact I want him to realize that he shouldn’t try and carry everything out at once; he could’ve asked me to come in and help.

While I finish filling the gas tank Barrette steps off to the side of the building to have a cigarette, I wonder if he knows he can smoke in my car? Maybe he’s used to driving those new high end vehicles that don’t have ashtrays because smoking is actually bad for you and manufacturers figure that people will quit if there are no longer ashtrays in vehicles. Yes, though I smoke like a train I don’t ever encourage anyone to do it, it’s a habit I picked up and wish that I had never gotten into. It has made my training more difficult, I can’t run like I used to without being winded, I’m not even going to start detailing all the other medical problems that smoking causes. So if you don’t smoke keep it that way, and if you do, give it up before it ends you.

As I’m placing the nozzle back into the pump Barrette is returning looking a little less aggravated than he was when he walked away. Both of us enter the car and close the doors in perfect sync, almost as if we’d practiced doing so a thousand times. It’s strange how alike him and I are, considering the fact that we were raised in two different life styles. His life was relatively normal from what I know of him sharing with the press, and mine, even the news broadcasters that can recover quickly from any story would hang their head in shame and silence. He chose to step into the life of an outlaw, I was born into it, he wanted this life, I didn’t, of course now that I’m here I really cannot complain. I have more fun than most people do on a regular basis. I can almost say the good outweighs the bad, almost.

As I’m pulling around the car parked in front of me, Barrette reaches to the radio dial and turns up the song that is currently humming on my mixed cassette. It’s one of my favorite songs that is from way back in the day, back in the time period I should have been born in. This song is one of the few my grandfather did have a chance to introduce me to before my mother ran off with me. Johnny Cash, Gods gonna cut you down.

Barrette glances my way as I start singing with the radio, something he hasn’t heard even once in the time he’s spent in the car with me.

 “You can run on for a long time, run on for a long time, run on for a long time, sooner or later god will cut you down, sooner or later god will l cut you down. Well tell that long tongue liar, that midnight rider, tell rambler, the gambler the back biter, tell em gods gonna cut em down, tell em that gods gonna cut em down.” I sing the first verse leaving Barrette slack jawed

Next thing I’m hearing is Barrette picking up with the next verse leaving me a bit red faced and sends a shiver down my spine that cuts straight to the core. Maybe it’s the situation were in, or maybe it’s the weather, but if you ask me it’s that deep, thick southern voice.

“Well my goodness gracious, let me tell you the news, my head been wet with the midnight dews. Now I been down on bended knee’s talking to the man from Galilee. He spoke to me; with a voice so sweet I thought I heard the shuffle of angel’s feet. He called my name and my heart stood still; he said john go do my will.” Barrette drones out the tune perfectly, how I could expect any different singing is his profession.

In any case as I pick up the next verse he sings the lyrics with me.

Go tell that long tongued liar

Go tell that midnight rider

Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter

Tele ‘em God almighty is gonna cut em down

You may hide your hand

Working the dark against your fellow man

Sure as god made the day and the night

What you do in the dark will be brought to the light

You may run and hide, slip and slide

Try to take the mote from your neighbor’s eyes

But sure as there is the rich and the poor

You gonna reap, my brother, just what you sow

You may run on for a long time

Run home for a long time

You may run home for a long time

Let me tell you, god almighty gonna cut you down

Some people go to church just to signify

Try to make a date with the neighbor’s wife

But neighbor let me tell you just as sure as you’re born

You better leave that woman, leave her alone

Cause one of these days you just mark my word

You’ll think your brother gone to work

You walk up, knock on the door

That’s all brothers, you’ll knock no more

Go tell that long tongued liar

Go tell that midnight rider

Tell the gambler, rambler, back biter

Tell ‘em god almighty gonna cut ‘em down

By the time the song ends I’m driving down the twisty winding road headed towards Nevada City which isn’t much further up ahead. Both Barrette and I remain silent in our mental musings, I can’t begin to imagine where Barrette’s thoughts are right now but I do know that I finally understand what he was saying last night when he was drunk.

If the man upstairs really had a big problem with what I’ve done, and with what I’m doing now, I’d be dead. After all, that is how Barrette figured out he needed to head down music row?

In his younger days he was almost killed in a car accident, for all intensive purposes he should be dead. Like my father’s accident, the injuries that should have been deadly were not there or not anywhere near as extensive as they could have been. Barrette had been ejected through the windshield of his truck going eighty miles an hour; he smacked head first into a tree and got up like nothing even happened. Yeah he was seriously injured, concussion, fractured skull, cut up and bruised, but he survived the accident. If a person that was truly evil had hit that tree they would have died on impact from a broken neck or a multitude of other possible injuries. Yes I’ve killed people beyond Devon’s henchmen, but I didn’t kill just because I could, I killed because I had to, it was me or them, or it was them or an innocent person.

The first time I’ve ever killed just because I could was last night, and even with that said, I did have a right, those guys were armed and would have shot Barrette or myself. Is there any redemption within that knowledge, I think there is. There are men and women in prison right now that killed someone out of self defense and were accused of murder. I believe that if you are defending your life or someone else’s then it’s not murder, its self defense. I sympathize with those who are wrongly imprisoned, those who are rightfully there, I can learn to forgive them because they are paying the price for wrong’s they have done.

“I understand now.” I blurt out as we cruise by the Oregon trail camp site that has been closed down for a long time due to the actual camping area being washed out. I briefly slow down tempted to go into the campgrounds. “You understand what?” Barrette replies, he knows what I’m talking about he just wants to hear the words from my mouth. Deciding I cannot fight the urge to visit an old time haunt I make the turn onto the dirt road at the last possible second.

“Bon, are you okay?” Barrette asks when I come to a stop in the dirt lot that is the original road leading across the Oregon trail Bridge. The bridge is impassible by vehicle today, but on foot it’s still sturdy enough to hold a significant amount of weight. With the car’s engine off I take a deep breath and step out with Barrette right behind me.

 “If I was truly a horrible individual and truly damned I’d be dead by now, I would have been cut down. If I wasn’t supposed to kill those three henchmen then I would’ve broken my neck or something when we jumped off the roof. I get it now, but that doesn’t mean that I will advance any closer to God, or religion.” I say to Barrette whose lips pull up ever so slightly into a smile after the remark, I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. If I made a bet, I’d say he’s thinking how alike we are and how nice it is to have someone around who’s the female version of himself.

Silence surrounds us as I walk across the closed in stage coach bridge, the enclosed area smells like a mixture of pine sap, and old wood, another scent that I enjoy. I love all things that are old, decrepit and forgotten, the world was a better place when life was simple. No cell phones, no internet getting people into trouble with hacking and all of that other craziness that happens, there was no cyber bullying. IF you were being picked on at school and gave your bully a shiner the teacher just walked both kids home and told the parents. People didn’t flip out  over their kids being picked on, because the parents knew that ultimately their child was being taught a solid life lesson by getting wailed on for being mean. If your rude and disrespectful people won’t like you and some will be gutsy enough to do something about it, kids learned, and understood that certain behavior was unacceptable.

There wasn’t a massive problem with obesity because kids had to go outside and play, there were no game stations destroying their minds. I could go on for hours about how this world has made a chance for the worst. Maybe that is another reason I enjoy the solitude of long hours on the open road, if I want to contact someone I have to send a letter or post card. There is something vintage about being on the open road, I can’t place what