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

leavin, to my surprise I manage to catch her wrist, in a vicious whirlwind my Grandmother doubles back with hatred in her eyes.

“Don’t waste your time on Clyde Barrow! Remember that Bonnie! Remember that when you are lying dead in that red death wagon of yours! Clyde Barrow is not worth your time!” She screams loud enough for her words to rattle in my skull like an eight oh eight drum is trapped within me, then; she’s gone. Just as fast as my grandmother appeared, she vanishes, if it weren’t for the brain shattering noise I would not believe she was even here to begin with.

Once again I’m standing alone in the middle of the road on old highway one fifty four looking around in panic. “Clyde! Clyde, where are you?! CLYDE!” I shriek momentarily forgetting where I am, who I am, or what just happened. The dress I’m wearing is stained with red blood that trails behind me as I start to run down the road screaming for Clyde.

“Damn it Clyde where are you!” I shriek suddenly sitting bolt upright in bed chest heaving with the effort to breathe as I look around with wild eyes. It takes all of thirty seconds to realize I’m safe in bed at my grandfather’s cabin where no one can harm me, and Barrette is surely nearby keeping look out.

“Bonnie!” I hear Barrette shout from ahead of me seconds after the startled announcement the cabin front door busts open, slamming the front wall that is technically behind the door. That is a technicality I can’t even begin to explain right now; I’m far too tired.

 “What’s wrong?” Barrette exclaims looking around the cabin clearly alarmed and looking for trouble that is not lurking in here right now. “Sorry, bad dream.” I try to reassure Barrette while throwing back the covers to shimmy out of the bed, when I finally feel the cold hard wood floor beneath my feet I stand and look out the nearest window. The sun is still just barely peeking over the mountain and there is a slight chill in the air. Typically it’s warm out here all summer long, but then again this winter that just past brought a doozie of a storm with it, almost seventy or eighty feet of snow fell in these mountains. I’m amazed that the lake is even thawed out.

The shore line has definitely expanded, if memory serves me correctly that pine tree twenty feet out towards the middle of the pond was the same tree that I sat under playing with pine nettles and digging for worms to use for fishing.

 “How long have I been out?”  I ask Barrette who’s still watching me with a weary look, he seems to be waiting for me to have a melt down or something. “You fell asleep around eleven yesterday morning. You’ve been out ever since; it’s around ten thirty or so right now.” Barrette informs, he crosses the cabin to the kitchen area, from the corner of the counter he retrieves one of about ten water bottles and hands it to me, looking at the water I see the its water from the lake, it’s been boiled but the water is still more crystalline than anything from a plastic bottle. Speaking of which, why did he fill these with lake water? I’m not objected to drinking it, I prefer water that hasn’t been tampered with by the likes of man made chemicals.

I run a hand through my hair giving a confused hiss, then drink down some of the offered liquid, Barrette still seems very worried about me but I pretend not to notice. The last thing I need is some man worrying about me; in fact I need him to worry about the person trying to kill the two of us.

“Is the water pump working?” I inquire as I set my water bottle aside and look back out the window trying to push away the sudden depressive wave washing over me, Barrette shakes his head no. “I tried fixing it; I think the pipe in the ground is shattered.” He informs, I nod in understanding knowing he’s probably correct if any amount of water is left in that pipe when the snow starts falling then the pipe will explode due to the water inside the pipes freezing and expanding.

“Then all showers are lakeside, and there’s no electricity-

“So I lit a fire in the fire place last night, I know. This isn’t my first rodeo in the sticks, Bonnie.” Barrette says sounding serious at first then catches the accidental double innuendo and starts laughing.

 I don’t even bother dignifying his words or actions with a response, I need a shower and to wash my clothes, then eat and finally get started on planning our grand plan on catching Devon. Plus some fresh air might help me calm down a little; I cannot begin to wrap my head around that dream. What did my grandmother mean by ‘Don’t waste your time on Clyde Barrow?’ Barrette is not Clyde Barrow, or is he? Is my grandmother correct when assuming that Barrette is Barrow’s reincarnation? My eyes scan over to Barrette, who is also looking out the window. He does resemble Clyde in some ways, he has that bad boy attitude, there is a very stoic and brazen look in his eyes. Both men are protective of women, not to mention they both have the burning charm of a raging wild fire.

It was just a dream Bonnie, I finally tell myself when Barrette looks down catching me staring at him; I don’t want him to start getting the wrong ideas.

 As Barrette continues a second round of his self amused laughter over his dirt minded remark, I walk off to the corner of the room to rummage through my back pack pulling out all two pairs of my clothes that are dirty.

Abandoning Barrette in the cabin I step outside into the clean air that is the Sierra Nevada’s, hidden pass is probably one of my favorite camping places. The single person cabin is perched right beside a lake that really should be called a large pond; the water is thirty or so feet deep at any given time in the year, deeper this year due to the heavy snow fall. And the lake is surrounded by nothing but trees, that is until you get to the far side of the lake. From the far side to a quarter of the way around is a mountain with jagged cliffs which hang out over the lake and are close enough to the water’s surface that you can climb up and jump off.

Another deep breath finds me tossing my dirt clothes into the stone pit that is used for washing clothes located a few feet away from the front porch. Dishes, and pretty much anything we have that needs to be cleaned can be washed up in that pit, according to my dad, the old miners who lived here before us are the ones who built it.

 I hear Barrette on the steps as soon as I’m reaching to pull my shirt off, I don’t really care that he’s standing there, all I want is to dive into the pond so I can remove some of the dirt and blood staining my skin, and hair, maybe even scrub some of the gore out from under my nails. Paying no attention to Barrette, I continue walking towards the lake abandoning my clothes as I go; the only thing I leave on is my underwear and my bra.

 “Good morning Nevada!” Barrette shouts bitterly after me showing distaste over me stripping down with him standing right there, any other man would not have hidden the fact they were impressed. But him, he seems more aggravated at my antics than he is impressed. Just another reason to love this Georgia boy, he knows what respect is even if I am not expecting or demanding such pleasant behavior.

Barrette returns to the cabin when he realizes I don’t really care about his irrational hatred over me stripping down with him watching. I figure that most of his issue with my behavior is over the fact he was raised a lot better than I was; him momma taught him right from wrong and how to treat a lady. I was raised in a house that didn’t care one way or another, and honestly we’re both adults and I’m sure it’s not his first ‘rodeo’ out in the sticks if you see the gutter ball my thoughts are wallowing it. I’m sure he has that one friend that goes down to the river or lake and wears next to nothing for clothes, and ‘accidentally’ loses her bikini top.

As for me, I swim out across the lake enjoying the rushing of the somewhat warm water over my skin, even though this water is snow melt and should be freezing, it’s not. Reaching the center of the pond I look back at the Cabin to see Barrette is outside again lounging on the porch steps with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He has both of the burner phones in hand and is trying to program them, he is paying little attention to me which doesn’t affect me the way he’s probably hoping his ignorance will.  I’ve made it clear that I don’t care one way or another, he can gawk, or he can sit there and pretend I don’t exist. I really, truly, undeniably do not care.

Giving a shrug and a deep breath I dive under the water and swim towards the rock wall across the lake, as I glide effortlessly through the water I look below myself to see what there is for fish in here. There are a lot trout fish down in the clear depths this year; each one could make a good meal tonight so I’ll have to see what I can do about catching some of the scaly creatures.

Realizing I am not like the fish below me and I need air to breathe I take to the surface of the water, looking around I realize I’m next to the rock wall already, once again looking back at the cabin I see Barrette looking at me bit relieved to see me. What did he think I drown or something? Seriously, I’m not a damsel in distress!

Once he realizes I’m not dead at the bottom of the lake he turns back for the cabin just as I begin to scale the rock wall clambering hazardously for the nearest cliff which only hangs about six feet above the water’s surface. The rock is cold and somewhat slippery beneath my hands making it hard to keep a foot, but I’m good at climbing so this should pose no issue to me.

Before long I find myself climbing up to the highest accessible ridge and looking out into the wide expanse of forest. I’m standing a good forty feet above the water right now and even at this height I still cannot make out where the road is in amongst all the shrubbery. It’s quiet up head to, all except for the wind blowing in my ears, even that is peaceful to me.

 

A deep peaceful feeling washes over me as I face the cabin side of the lake only from a much higher point, a calm smile plays at my face, nothing about me has changed as much as I thought it had having been under Michael’s rule. I thought he broke my wild spirit, destroyed my will to live beyond a point of salvation, I thought he had stolen my right to live. Michael failed, standing here on this cliff I realize that in fighting for my freedom and right to live I managed to still be wild, and free, I can be happy if I want to be.

 How many folks do you know that would climb a rock wall wearing only their underclothes just to get a better look at the Sierra Nevada’s