***
CHAPTER 37
There was something off-putting about starting my next adventure in the middle of the morning, in broad daylight even.
Admittedly, I pretty much associated clandestine activities with the cover of darkness -- and, in my mind's eye, they would have almost exclusively consisted of sneaking and skulking, predominantly in the shadows.
But I wasn't choosing the timing of this escape from all things southern Florida. I now considered all of my loose ends wrapped up and so I was choosing that moment in time to strike out on my own.
It had been such a whirlwind of activity, and I had both met a number of new characters as it all played out AND reunited with a few people from my most recent past.
In the end, though, I wanted to start this next chapter the way I was most comfortable and the way I had lived the majority of my life up until that time -- as a solitary endeavor.
Having dismissed Joey and Rochelle, provided for Gator and written a note to Mattie in hopes he would understand my choices, I gathered my few belongings and walked out into the bright Florida sunshine.
The most important belonging I carefully secured was the envelope of cash that Mario and Mria had left for me and that Mattie had surreptitiously snagged while I was being rescued from the fire in the room in the basement of the bar where I had been kept prisoner.
It was a good bit of cash -- not enough to buy me any back alley plastic surgery that would completely change my look or anything -- but enough to take care of my basic needs in the days ahead when I'd be forced to go off the grid and into my version of hiding.
Although, I thought to myself, if there ever was a place where I could undoubtedly find a back alley plastic surgeon, southern Florida would have been it.
***
Bus, train or aeroplane?
Such was my dilemma.
My goal was to get out of town without anyone recognizing me, and the fact that I was a "person of interest" in the so-called "Evil Monkey Murders" wasn't going to make that easy.
Considering that just about any kind of public transportation would mean that I'd have to go on some kind of official record in order to travel, none of those choices were tops on my list.
For a brief moment, I reconsidered my decision to break free from Mattie and to go it alone. He had all but predicted that kind of trouble and had offered up a solution by telling me that he'd be my road trip buddy so that everything could be in *his* name.
With Papa Kalfu on the loose, though, I knew I couldn't possibly risk involving him further -- hence my decision.
He had probably finished procuring a rental car and was likely on his way back to the empty hotel room.
Speaking of which, I had the cash for a rental car ... but that would be yet another paper trail.
The only way out of the corner I had boxed myself into was clear.
I needed a disguise ..
... or a fake ID ...
... or a really good set of boots made for walking a long long distance.
***
That's when it hit me.
My way out of town unnoticed was going to have be courtesy of my own thumb and a reliance on the kindness of strangers.
As a hitchhiker, I only needed to risk that ONE local person might recognize me from all of the news coverage as opposed to more formal travel, where I'd be surrounding by others or have to go on record with a paper trail that might be used against me by the authorities.
I then proceeded to strategize as to how to find my victim.
Victim.
That's not the word I meant to think.
I didn't want to be *that* kind of hitcher.
But I did want to do my best to plan out the right way to hitch.
Being in southern Florida, I could count on there being tourists about. I just had to differentiate them from the snowbirds who might have out of state plates but no desire to travel far away and to spirit me out of state in the process.
I needed to ensure that I was going to be a passenger on a vehicle that was moving quickly and moving a great distance.
Which of course led me to the only sensible conclusion: I needed to bum a ride from a long distance tractor trailer driver.
"What could possibly go wrong with that?" I thought, as I finally left the resort and oriented myself toward the big highway that cut through town.
***
Just put one foot in front of the other.
Every holiday in my youth, that mantra had been drilled into my head -- whether I was with a family that year or back in the group home, those classic cartoons were a part of my seasonal traditions.
Looking back, I'm not sure if the whole "island-of-misfit-toys" motif was some kind of manipulation of us unwanted kids to try to give us hope that we'd one day find where we belonged, but nonetheless, the scenes and songs from it were ingrained in my noggin.
Just put one foot in front of the other.
I had decided that the way out of town was by hitchhiking a ride with a long distance trucker, and I was slowly making my way to the big interstate that separated the good part of town from the not-quite-good part of town the way that "the tracks" had done decades before.
Both feet stopped right where I stood.
The tracks.
Of course.
*That* would be an even more efficient way for me to disappear myself -- and I wouldn't risk any local spotting me thumbing by the side of the road OR any trucker picking me up and recognizing me from all of the news coverage of the so-called "Evil Monkey Murders".
This town also had a busy railroad that ran through it -- I remembered because it was right next to Papa Kalfu's bar and since a train had blocked him from following me when I made my escape that dreaded night.
Of course, I wasn't about to go back to the scene of that crime to start my new hobo life.
But all the same, I changed directions and headed a little farther north so I could intercept the next train as it slowed down to go through town.
***
For the first time in a very long time, I tried to clear my mind as I walked.
I didn't want to think about my past because I had just lived it and it was just too much.
I didn't want to think about my future because it was basically an unknown.
I didn't even want to think about my present because I couldn't think about my specific situation without considering how my recent past had affected my immediate future.
I just plodded along, being careful to avoid making eye contact with any passers-by, and orienting myself to the north and slightly to the east ... because although I didn't know my way completely around town, I knew that the basic layout was major highway on one side, ocean on the other side and railroad tracks in between.
Block by block, I got closer and closer to reaching my destination. I knew I'd need to be near a big enough intersection and also in a residential area so that the train would be going slow enough for me to hop on ... but also in a neighborhood that was hidden enough from public view that I wouldn't be noticed as I became a hobo.
As I approached the main road, my cover was unexpectedly blown.
"Hey!"
Maybe the guy in the car that I could see in my peripheral vision was yelling at someone else.
"Hey! Alan!!"
"Well that changed *that* theory", I thought to myself. *Clearly* the guy in the car knew who I was.
And that was *clearly* going to be a problem for someone like me who was basically hiding from the law.
***
The car next to me with the guy that was yelling out my name wasn't taking the hint that my refusal to acknowledge what was happening was a sign that he should have just kept on driving.
"How's a person of interest like me in a triple homicide -- even though the victims' bodies disappeared -- supposed to ghost myself via a boxcar on a train like a hobo if I'm being chased down by strangers who obviously aren't strangers ..." I muttered to myself.
I didn't want to look over, as that would have broken the little bit of cover I thought I was upholding ... but seeing as how the driver had just yelled out my name, that little bit of cover was already kind of broken.
There was Mattie ... in a different car ... and he was glaring at me.
"Get in the car!" he demanded.
I shook my head.
"Didn't you get my note?" I asked.
Mattie seemed agitated.
"I don't give two shits about your personal psychosis right now."
I was not expecting that reply. And I was *definitely* not expecting what he said next.
"Joey and Rochelle stopped at a gas station and Gator jumped out. He's missing. We're all trying to find him. Now get in the car and stop wasting any more time!"
***
I was stunned.
So I just stood there.
And *that* was not the response that Mattie had been seeking.
"Look," he said with a sigh. "I'm going to say this the nicest way I know how. Now is not the time for you to wallow in your circumstance. Now is the time time for action. We can work through your issues on our long drive out of town."
Stunned as I was, Mattie was not mincing words -- nor was he planning to honor my wishes about leaving me alone for this next part of my journey.
"Gator is loose on these streets and we need your help to find him."
Sometimes you need a verbal slap in the face to help you adjust your priorities.
This was one of those times and Mattie was delivering one of those verbal slaps.
I climbed in the passenger side and slammed the door shut as he drove us away from the railroad crossing that had *almost* become my ticket out of town.
"So -- what happened again?" I queried.
"Joey and Rochelle stopped for gas on the way over to Laura's house, and they said that Gator just jumped out through the window and took off. They don't know if he was chasing something or what ... but they called me right away to help with the search. We have to find him."
I was trying my best to not be selfish, but one of the first thoughts I had just slipped out.
"If someone catches him and they check his chip, they're going to trace him back to me ... and that's going to open up a lot of questions in light of the murders."
Mattie nodded his head as he responded.
"So let's find him *first*."
***
"What's the plan?"
Mattie was quick to answer me.
"Lucky for us, this town is a grid-city. Joey and Rochelle are systematically handling the northeast quadrant, and you and I will continue here where we are -- in the northwest part of town. The gas station where Gator jumped out of their car was on the main road separating east from west, so we both have just as much of a chance to locate him."
I nodded my head to show I understood.
"Do we stay in the car?"
I hadn't intended to stump him, but it looked like that was exactly what I had done.
"I don't know. With two of us, I guess one could stay in and one could walk the streets, but then there's your little issue ..."
Mattie's voice trailed off.
I said what he didn't.
"Yeah ,,, I kind of screwed things up. I *thought* I was doing the right thing ..."
It was my turn for *my* voice to trail off.
We drove a few blocks in silence, neither one of us wanting to continue that side of the conversation.
Both of us hoping against all odds that we'd just see Gator sitting by the side of the road, waiting for us like it was always part of the plan for this kind of diversion.
Block after block, corner after corner, sidewalk after sidewalk ... we saw nothing.
***
Our futile search was interrupted by the sound of Mattie's cell phone ringing.
He grabbed for it excitedly.
"You find him?" he asked by way of a greeting.
He hadn't bothered to put it on speakerphone, but I quickly figured out that it was the other half of our puppy search party on the other end of the line.
Of course, that also meant I couldn't hear all parts of the conversation, but it wasn't too hard to follow along.
"No, me neither. But I did find numnuts walking toward the railroad tracks."
Again, it was easy to connect the dots.
*I* was the "numnuts" to whom he was referring.
"Yeah, he's with me now searching. We have a few more blocks to cover in our quadrant. Then what do you think? Should we look south?"
They must have vetoed that idea by Mattie's reply.
"I guess -- but then what? Flyers on telephone poles? Checking the pound? Getting something going on social media?"
The more I sat there listening, the guiltier I felt about the whole thing.
I turned away to hide my shame, and saw three kids near the corner come running out into the street, directly into our path.
***
Mattie slammed on the brakes, and his cell phone went flying.
From the screams of the kids, you would have thought that we had hit one -- or more -- of them ... but yet in the excitement of the moment, I didn't recall hearing any thuds -- or worse.
Momentarily forgetting that I was supposed to be a fugitive and off the grid and in hiding, I jumped out of the car and ran to the front of it to ensure that he had actually stopped in time.
And he had ... which was, of course, the best thing to discover.
The kids seemed oblivious to the near catastrophe in which they had almost played leading roles, and they continued to yell and hoot and holler as they ran further into traffic -- on the *other* side of the street.
"What's wrong?" I yelled back at them, to no avail.
"Calm down!" I admonished, as a different approach to restore order to the scene -- except that also failed in its goal.
"What the *hell*!?"
My last exclamation probably wasn't appropriate around the kiddies, but I could take solace in the fact that absolutely zero of them were listening to one iota of what I was saying.
Not able to do anything about their hysteria, I turned to my right to see what had created the traffic nightmare of children fleeing mindlessly into busy streets, and it was none too soon, because if I had waited a moment later, I would have been knocked to the ground myself.
***
If you love something ... give it to your friends to take to a good home where you think it will be safer from a life on the run.
If it jumps out of your friends' car at a gas station and runs away BUT, in the end, it comes back to you ... it's bound to try to knock you over in the middle of the sidewalk after chasing some kids down the street.
The mystery of the screaming children was solved.
Gator bounded up to me and jumped up and down repeatedly, attacking me with puppy kisses as was his style.
I heard Mattie behind me.
"Well I'll be damned."
As for me, I was a little overwhelmed.
I had come to terms with my decision and had convinced myself that I was doing the best thing. And fate was intervening in my plans. The chance that Mattie would find *me* ... and then that together we'd find Gator ... seemed like the universe was trying to tell me something.
Mattie was trying to tell me something as well.
"In the car ... BOTH of you ..."
And that wasn't all he had to say.
As a preamble, the first thing he did was press that button that automatically locked all of the car doors.
***
"You guys listen to me ... and you listen to me good."
Mattie was laying down the law.
"The doors are now locked. And I'm not UNlocking them until WE arrive in New Orleans."
I said nothing.
"That WAS the plan -- and I shouldn't have to remind you that WE decided to do things that way because it made the most sense. *YOU* need to be hidden out of sight. *I* can get us where we need to go. So let me help you."
He gestured toward Gator on the back seat.
"And that little guy clearly spent too much time away from you when you were locked in the basement of the bar. He missed you so much that he came back to find you even after you tried to give him away ... so you're just going to have deal with it."
I hadn't been dressed down in a long time -- but I remembered enough to know that the one on the receiving end was often best off not interrupting. Plus it seemed like Mattie was winding down.
I glanced his direction and saw that he was staring straight ahead with clenched jaw.
He drew in a sharp breath and continued in a calmer slightly more controlled voice.
"You may think you're doing the noble thing by pushing everyone away and taking everything on yourself. But on my mother's grave, I *swear* to you that it is the *most* selfish move you can make ... and I *know* that because that's *exactly* what my mother did."
By then, the volume was reduced to almost a whisper ... but the conviction with which he said every word was turned all the way up to eleven.
"I will not let you make the same mistakes that she did."
***
Had we been driving for miles? Or had we just gone around the block?
I had been so taken aback by Mattie's admonition to me that I had lost track of time. It certainly had seemed like a long time since he had informed me that I should basically sit down and shut up and just enjoy the ride out of town -- as had been the *original* plan before I had tried to give my puppy dog Gator away and to embark on my own solo journey.
That, unexpectedly, had led to the adventure of Gator escaping from Joey and Rochelle's car and, just as unexpectedly, it was that adventure that had climaxed with our reunion on the streets of the southern Florida town we were all trying to put in our collective rearview mirrors.
Deep in my own thoughts as I almost always was, a quick peek out the window confirmed that little time had passed since he had taken me to task for pushing people away and compared me to his late mother, who had done the same when no one appreciated *her* special talents.
It was the ringing of his cellphone that brought us all back to reality and pulled us all back into the moment.
"Yeah", he answered curtly, still in hyper-focused, take-no-prisoners, show-no-weakness mode.
As before, I couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but I had no difficulty following along.
"I got him. I got *both* of them, actually."
I knew that it was the other half of our search party -- Joey and Rochelle -- that had quickly reconnected after losing the original call when Mattie had slammed on the brakes to avoid the kids in the street who were reacting to Gator approaching them.
"Look, I just want to get the hell out of town. I don't need any of Gator's things. We'll stop at a store once we're on the road and buy stuff new."
His next comment summarized it all perfectly.
"I'm so *over* this place. I want to move on ... and put some distance from all of this nonsense ..."
***
Nonsense.
That's how he referred to everything.
And that "everything" included me.
All things considered, though, I couldn't exactly disagree with his characterization.
"Race you to the state line?"
Joey and/or Rochelle, depending on which ... or both ... of them were on the other end of the call with Mattie must have agreed, because Mattie seemed compelled to qualify.
"Well ... I mean ... not the *same* spot on the state line -- since you're headed up the east coast and we're going west to N'awlins ... but you know what I mean. Let's agree to call each other as soon as either vehicle is OUT of Florida."
Judging from the mood, I knew that it wasn't the right time to tell him that I had other ideas with regards to our eventual destination. I knew that much.
He laughed at whatever the reply was, which made me surmise that he had dialed down his intensity just as quickly as it had first appeared.
My hunch was right.
After he wrapped up the conversation, he turned towards me and smiled.
"So ... are you ready to talk through your issues, now? Or do you still need some *alone* time?"
***
I couldn't deny it ... I was having a little bit of deja vu in that moment.
Gator and I had been on a long road trip out of Florida *before* with someone else in the driver seat.
If it had been that trip and it had been Joey who had just said, "So ... are you ready to talk through your issues, now? Or do you still need some *alone* time?", I would have known that he was picking on me and that Joey was being a smart-ass.
'Cause smart-assery was Joey's default.
Not that there was anything wrong with that.
However, since it was *Mattie* who was in the driver seat this trip, and seeing as how I hadn't yet spent a lot of quality time with him, I wasn't going to jump to that conclusion right off the bat.
Instead of answering him directly, I started to replay our greatest hits to date in my mind.
He was there as part of the group on the service trip -- the youngest of us all and super-eager to please.
He was there the night of the after-party when I collapsed in the parking lot, happy and smiling and excited to use his fake ID to have a little much-deserved fun before that all went down.
He was there on the other end of the line when I booked a random dog-sitter from the fliers I saw on campus.
He was there to see my emergency text messages on my cell that had been left behind in the apartment with Gator.
He was there to coordinate my rescue and he literally pulled me out of the fire and saved my life.
He was there to protect me from myself when I tried to go it alone.
He was there much more than I had realized ... and, upon reflection, some of those times were pretty "quality" after all.
***
"I'm going to interpret your silence to mean that you're NOT ready yet to talk about it."
Mattie's comment was straightforward enough and didn't come across as a dig at all.
"Which -- hey -- is fine with me. We've got hundreds of miles to go. Just speak up whenever. I'll be here."
Instead of replying, I stayed in my own thoughts, realizing that this was the second time in not even a whole day that I had paused to take stock of Mattie.
I wondered to myself why that was.
Why *did* I have such a problem trusting someone else? It was easy to blame my past -- and to see it as a natural defense mechanism for the kind of life I had lived. It was harder to think about all of the potential opportunities I had missed to connect with people because I first had to analyze their actions and evaluate their intentions and classify their conduct.
Maybe *that* was the lesson I was supposed to learn.
Maybe *he* was the person to whom I was supposed to open up.
Maybe I didn't have to be so alone in all my efforts and he was the one that was going to end up as my sidekick.
In addition to my puppy pal, of course. Despite my recently failed attempt to give Gator back to the family that had given him to me, I knew that he wasn't going anywhere and that nobody could compete with my puppy sidekick.
I glanced at him in the back seat and he was curled up in a ball, happily napping.
Mattie saw me looking that way.
"If you want to let him be your inspiration, feel free to nap away. I got this."
***
My response was immediate.
"No. Nope. I can't. No napping for me ..."
Mattie's next statement proved that he had been listening to our earlier conversations.
"Oh right ... the Kalfu guy."
I nodded my head, happy to be engaging in a conversation that didn't involve him yelling at me for pushing him away.
"So how does his thing work again?" he asked.
"I don't know all the details ... and I'm pretty sure it's voodoo or something ... but he can use my blood to get inside my head. He had had access to a blood stained shirt of mine that he was using but I got that back. The problem is that, during my escape from his bar, he had scratched my face when he slapped me with his ring on --"
Mattie connected the dots.
"And that meant *fresh blood*, eh?" he interjected, before reaching a conclusion that I hadn't yet reached. "And I'm guessing *fresh blood* is equal to easier access or whatever for him, right?"
"Actually, I hadn't thought of it *that* way .. but that makes all kinds of sense," I said.
Now it was my turn to get those synapses a-firing.
"With everything that happened -- PLUS the fact that the last news story we saw said that the bar owner had disappeared -- my biggest fear is that he's following us."
Something struck Mattie as funny, based on the chuckle that escaped his lips.
"Yeah. The *last* place you want to bump into a voodoo powerhouse is in a back alley in New Orleans."
***
I should have told him right then and there that we wouldn't be going to New Orleans for just that reason.
But I didn't.
I wanted to trust him seeing as how he had demonstrated such a commitment to me and my situation.
But I didn't.
I could have explained that it was fully my intent to go along with the plan to get out of Florida, but then that I was going to do whatever I could to completely change our course.
But I didn't.
Instead, I just stared out the window and let the conversation die naturally.
I recommitted to myself that I was not going to doze off so that there would be no way that Papa Kalfu could get in my head and suss out my ultimate travel plans.
I filled my noggin with good thoughts.
I had people on my side.
I had a puppy fast asleep in the back seat.
I has survived an ordeal and would live to fight another day.
Had I known what was ahead on our way to our new destination ... and then what would happen after we arrived there ... I might have used the time to devise a *different* plan other than the *new* plan that only I knew was about to replace the *old* plan.
But I didn't ... so I didn't ... and we drove on in silence, each mile serving to separate us from our past and to propel us into our future.
***
[to be continued ...]
