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

mountain pines? I know only one person who would do this, but she’s moving on with her life, settling down and leaving me behind. Her boyfriend has become the center of her world; she’s no longer the Thelma to my Louise. I guess she just wasn’t destined to have this kind of freedom, no strings or chains tethering her to any one place, no one holding her spirit down. Anna, I wish you could be here right now, I know you would enjoy this as much as I do.

If you can’t imagine being this free, or having this kind of peacefulness around you then close your eyes.

Imagine telling you boss to shove it, or walking away from that defective relationship, maybe even deciding you just need a vacation and now you’re standing in the middle of a forest.  Crisp clean air breezes all around you making it much easier to breathe, the sound of the bustling city and loud arguments around you is gone, the only sound you can hear is the occasion night and gale birds, or a hawk high up in the sky hunting for its next meal. Now, imagine standing on a cliff opening your eyes to nothing but mighty luscious green pine trees as far as the eye can see, each one majestic in its own way. Now add a serene lake directly below you, you can feel a gentle warm summer breeze blowing against your face.

You can have it; all you have to do is want it bad enough and nothing in this world can stop you. If you can dream it, you can have it.

Whatever you are looking for you might be able to find it here in this massive expanse of federally preserved land, you can even find money here if you know where to dig.

“Hey! Pocahontas!” Barrette’s sarcastic and unusually loud voice shatters my peaceful calm, looking down at him I realize exactly how far off the ground I am. Most people would be terrified standing this high, but I am far from afraid.

 “Breakfast is ready!” He shouts putting his hands up to his face as if that will actually help focus his words enough to reach me. I can hear him loud and clear, his voice is already echoing up to me as it is, doesn’t he know how Amphitheatres work? He should, he’s a musician after all.

 I put my hands on my hips and glare down at him defiantly, has this man not yet learned that taunting me with names is a huge mistake? “Pocahontas huh? I’ll show you Pocahontas!” I shout back down to him, as soon as I speak Barrette’s eyes widen, he knows what is coming next. Even this southern outlaw of a man has been around long enough to know what the wild spirited Pocahontas does in the beginning of the Disney film.

“Bonnie, no!” His order is given far too late I’ve already jumped off the cliff ankles pressed together, arms out to my side with my eyes closed. Am I crazy to live, and love the freefall? There is something about the wind blowing through my hair, and knowing there is no safety cord that will stop me from hitting the bottom of the rocks, nor is there any kind of elastic landing pad. Perhaps I love free falling like this because I am ultimately giving up all control to a higher power, he could easily strike me down right now. I could hit the bottom of the lake and smash my head on the rocks hard enough to become unconscious, Barrette could then be to late swimming out to drag me from the water.

 I heave in a deep breath as I plunge under the water feeling a surge of bubbles and warm water billow all around tickling my skin, at the lowest arching point of the dive my stomach barely grazes the bottom of the pond, from here I start my ascent towards the water’s surface. Looking over at Barrette I see he’s standing right at the edge with a horrified expression on his face, he’s anxious to know if I was injured or not.

“Bonnie Elizabeth Parker!” I hear Barrette’s angry voice using my full name. “What?” I squeak back childishly, while treading water so I don’t sink down to the lake bed again. Barrette looks back at me shaking his head angrily as I start swimming back towards land not even bothered by jumping off the cliff. To me that cliff dive was exhilarating and I’m not letting this overly paranoid cowboy ruin that thrill!

 “Woman, you’re insane.” Barrette informs the moment I’m on dry land.

“That isn’t breaking news. People have known this for years.” I reply looking up at Barrette who’s looking everywhere but at me.

“Seriously, everything that matters is covered.” I growl at the outlaw man standing before me who is trying his best to be polite.

“That’s beside the point.” He states as he returns to the porch where his own bag is now sitting, he pulls one of his shirts out and pitches it at me, the cloth hits me in the face causes me to be even more angered by his antics.

“Right, the point is, bikini’s cover less, but because this outfit didn’t come with a swim wear label it’s not appropriate.” I say to Barrette as I’m wrenching the shirt away from my face to look back at Barrette showing my disapproval of his behavior. Shockingly, Barrette has no response to my logical comment; how can you argue with that logic?

“Breakfast is ready so dry off and get inside.” Barrette orders looking directly at me with a determination to make me uncomfortable; his goal is to prove a point that him gawking at me wouldn’t be appropriate. To his dismay the plan fails miserably because I make the effort to walk between him and the rickety stair banister to his left. Doing so means I’m brushing by him at close proximity, I could have gone around him to the right, the stairs are wide enough but I’m determined to prove that he will not win this argument.

As I reach the top step I hear an angry growl from Barrette but choose to ignore it, I’m suddenly hungrier than I initially realized and whatever he is cooking smells amazing. Therefore I’m not going to waste time arguing with him over this useless topic.

When Barrette steps inside the cabin he instantly starts talking about the more serious topic that both of us have been avoiding since last night.

 “Here’s breakfast. Let’s try and focus a little more on forming a plan today?” Barrette suggests handing me a plate with meat on it, at first I’m confused, because the food presented to me is not what we bought at the store yesterday. The beef had no bones in it, especially such tiny leg bones which is what I am being presented.

“Can we at least get through breakfast first?” I ask Barrette who gives a slight nod agreeing with me, neither one of us is awake enough to discuss life or death plans. When he turns around to look at me his expression shows a very unfavorable look. He’s just now noticed my confusion about the mystery meat he’s serving.

 “Don’t even tell me you refuse to eat rabbit?” Barrette says sounding like a very angry mother whose child refuses to eat the meal cooked for them, I look at him and then at the plate still clearly perplexed. I’m not objecting to whatever he’s cooked I would simply like to have some clue as to what I am eating.

“You went hunting? I must’ve been out if you shot something and I didn’t wake up.” I decide taking a seat on the counter top now that I know it’s safe to eat what Barrette cooked, before I can even take a bite of my breakfast Barrette takes the plate from me and walks over to the two person table in the corner of the room. After setting the plate down Barrette looks at me then at the chair and back to me again, his pointed expression says that I am supposed to be eating at the table.

And this is one reason I dislike people who have such strict manners, I am used to sitting on the kitchen counter when I eat. Angeline never had money for a dining room table and there was only one chair in our kitchen slash dining room. One of our neighbors gave us a desk chair, and that chair was typically used by my brother. My mother sat in her room and ate and I sat on the counter to make sure my brother didn’t feed any food to the dogs. That is one reason I wish I hadn’t moved so far from Adrienne and Michael, there are two other dogs back that house, both of which I love dearly.

“I didn’t shoot it, I used a snare. I set some up in that meadow just over the hill, after I got you inside last night.” Barrette replies looking from me back to the table and back to me again, that was a second silent order to move to the kitchen table. Apparently our mannerisms clash to some extent, I have no qualms about sitting on the kitchen counter to eat breakfast and he has a big problem with that. Not to mention the whole issue over me walking around in bra and underwear.

Seeing as I’m too tired to argue or complain about him encouraging me to use what few manners I have, I skip from the counter top and make my way to the table. Barrette becomes slightly reluctant to eat, at first I don’t understand why then he folds his hands and starts praying.

 “Thank you lord for the safety you have provided for Bonnie and I, and for the meal you’ve presented, and for the woman sharing it with me, Amen.” Barrette speaks; he then looks at me waiting for me to say something.

The moment he looks at me expecting me to even say a simple amen I become fearful and panicked, I’m not afraid to say a simple word but I am afraid of the reason behind the word. Gazing into my past living in the small ancient Missionary town San Miguel, I start to remember the faces of people teasing, taunting, whispering, talking about me, telling me I’m gods worst nightmare, I’m doomed, damned, and too far gone to be saved.

I remember the many Sundays that the streets would be desolate, everyone would be in church, I’d of course be out running around like the wild woman I am. When they stepped out of church they would all silently scorn me and each one would pray for my salvation. Some of my closest friends were kept away from me simply because I was different, my hair wasn’t tame, I had it spiked up to look like Elvira’s signature hair cut. I would blast my ‘devils music’ much too loud and for that I was condemned.

There were even nights that I would be sleeping and someone would throw a flaming wooden cross through my bedroom window. Of course those people were never dealt with by the law because even the law men agreed I should burn, since the tormentors were never held responsible for the broken window I was beaten by Michael who was furious that he had to fix everything they broke. Michael’s theory was that if he beat me enough times I’d stop being me and I would eventually conform to whatever the town’s residence considered redeemably appropriate. 

When the memories of Michael and San Miguel become too much I begin to hyperventilate and step back away from the table trying to run but I can’t actually see the cabin because the room is spinning; I can’t figure out how to escape! Terror hits me hard as I step back one more time bumping into the counter knocking the only bowl, and two boxes of ammo to