Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2007 22:29:03 -0700 (PDT)
From: Matt Wess <cow91387@yahoo.com>
Subject: Michael: Part Nine

      At seven Adam managed to get all of them out of bed, and one by one
they used the shower, packed back up and were on the road by quarter to
eight.
      Chilled morning skies lay over the city, above rows of houses in
the western suburbs, backyards were moistened from last nights rain.  The
four of them traveled single-file across the overpass; Adam was leading
the way as usual, followed closely by Michael, Macy, and then Dylan.
Michael purposefully allowed a person to always be in between him and
Dylan.  Though last night before they fell asleep in the motel was
pleasurable, it was only not awkward to an extent.  They passed that line
when Adam shook them awake this morning.  They hadn't been in any kind of
position that would be thought of as uncanny; in fact during his sleep,
Michael had rolled to the complete other side of the bed.  Still, Michael
almost felt shameful and he had a feeling Dylan was thinking along the
same lines.  So it was better that Macy was in between them in their
journey west.
      Adam told them a story at one point as they descended down from
crossing yet another overpass.  Try and picture him-yawing, but coherent
enough to talk consecutively.  He paused at the edge of a curb, waiting
for the light to turn red and once it did they crossed listening intently
to him.
      "It happened at a time when I was far from sober.  You know what
that is like - how damnable, that a man of refinement should be in such a
state," (at these words Macy rolled her eyes to the high heavens) "but
the thing was, it was only two in the afternoon.  I hadn't been drinking,
just still madly hung over.  You see, the night before I had drunk so
late into the night that I didn't arrive home until six in the morning."
He craned his neck around to look at Michael.  "I think you were with me
that night, if memory serves me correctly."
      "I vaguely remember," Michael said, kicking a rock along with him.
      "Well, in any case, I'm still drunk during the afternoon, I wake
up, and head downstairs and there in my living room was my mother's
friend.  Both of them are dressed extremely nicely and I'm in my goddamn
sweat pants, t-shirt, eyes blood-shot, hair skewed.  I had completely
forgotten that my mother's friend worked at the office of admission at
James Madison University and was suppose to interview me.  So I shower in
lightning speed, dress in slacks, a shirt and tie, and then have the
interview, but I could tell she was no longer interested.  After she left
I certainly got a scolding, my mom claimed that she could still smell
alcohol on my breath."
      "What was the point of that story?" Dylan interjected, his hands
shoved deeply in his pockets.
      Adam frowned, as though perturbed that Dylan hadn't found the story
interesting.  "There wasn't a point; it was just to kill time."  He
gestured upwards.  "Look, we're already at our destination."
      All four of them looked up in unison.  "Adam," Macy asked slowly.
"Why are we stopping at a hair saloon?"
      "Time to change identity," he responded casually. Without
acknowledging Macy's flabbergasted facial expression, he pushed through
the front door.  Somewhere in the store a bell rang, announcing their
arrival.
      A young lady, probably in her early twenties, emerged from the
front door.  She had long, red fiery finger-nails and a cool-cat
attitude.  "Good afternoon," she addressed the four of them.  "Welcome to
Jenkins Beauty Saloon, do you have an appointment?"  Her eyes lingered on
Dylan for a second, but averted quickly to Adam when he spoke up.
      "I do.  It's under the name Joseph Cataract and is it at all
possible for my friends here to get an appoint, as well?"

About an hour and half later the four of them were staring questionably
at their new self.  Macy had to admit the logic of this, but a flicker of
distrust stayed in her eyes.  She ran her hand through her now dark, red
hair.  Trying to do something to style it, but all in all it didn't look
half bad.  Adam had bleached his hair, Dylan's was now a chestnut brown,
and as for Michael, his hair color was night-black, which contrasted
deeply with his blue eyes.
      "That should throw off the cops for the time being," Adam
commented.
      There was one thing that Michael had been musing over.  Apparently
Adam had anticipated being in this location at this time or else he
wouldn't have made the hair appointment.  So how long had Adam planned on
running away?
      They were now traveling casually through a quaint town.  No
bystanders paid the least bit attention to them, despite their large
bruises.  Old cafes and shops stood side-by-side in a vertical row-boat
manner, occasionally Macy would be mesmerized by the items in the window
and drift inside.  To get her out of the stores Adam would usually put
his foot down firmly and insist that they leave at once.
      "I'm not sure what the big deal is," Macy remarked.  "You said
yourself that the cops should be thrown off by your ingenious idea."
      "Yes, but the more shops we go into, the more our identity will be
made public."
      She placed a hat back on the rack, and stopped abruptly at his last
remark, holding her coat tighter around her, an inquisitive look on her
young face.  "Is that the police across the street?"
      Adam, Michael, and Dylan whirled around.  Sure enough a few
policemen were emerging from the store that they had just been in,
carrying a note pad and heading directly for the store they were
presently standing in.
      Adam cursed heavily under his breath.  "Shit-shit-shit," he pushed
them all forward, towards the back of the store.
      The store owner looked at them suspiciously.  "May I help you?" he
asked, popping out from behind a rack of clothes.
      The policemen were advancing closer.  Michael had a feeling that
their new hair-do wouldn't cut it.  They still had the same face
profiles.  "Do you have a bathroom?" he asked hurriedly.
      "Why yes, we do, but it's a one person bathroom."
      "That's okay," Macy said, hurrying forward, "we just need to wash
our hands." They disappeared in the back of the store just as the front
door opened with a jingle.
      "Hello there, officers!" Michael heard the store owner saying out
front.  They were currently standing in the middle of a large storage
area.  To the right was the bathroom, but nothing else.  So they took off
in the opposite direction, this time Dylan was leading the pack.  They
weaved frantically through shelves of random objects in enormous boxes.
      There was a pause once they hit a dead-end, then from the front of
the store, suddenly: "It just so happens that four teenagers were just in
here, officers.  Though they didn't have that color hair.  Let me go
check for you."  The four of them stopped breathing, and watched the
store owner enter the back.  They could only make out his feet through
spaces on the over-crowded shelves.  He headed towards the bathroom,
paused, then shuffled back out to the front.
      "Go!" Adam hissed.  "Towards that window!"
      They scuttled down the narrow aisle of packages, being as silent as
possible.  Michael's heart was beating twice its normal rate.  He
couldn't imagine how the police had picked up on them so quickly.
      Once they reached the bottom of the window, they stacked a few
boxes on top of each other, pausing only once in fright when the police
entered the back of the room.  Dylan made his way to the top and
noiselessly pushed the window open.  Meanwhile, Michael was bringing up
the rear and kept on checking behind him to make sure the police were
there.  As far as he could tell, the officers were still making their way
through the labyrinth of shelves; he could hear the soft rhythmical
tapping of their footfall.
      One-by-one they slipped through the small open window.  Michael
checked behind him once more-the aisle was still empty.  There were the
large boxes and random paraphernalia, but this time the footsteps were
much, much closer.  In fact it wasn't until he was scaling the boxes that
he realized the officers had only been an aisle over.
      Michael landed on the ground outside with a thump.  From the inside
he could hear the crackling police officer radio.  One of the officers
was talking into his radio, "I think we're on to them."

"Absolutely fucking impossible!" Adam said in an outraged tone an hour
later.  "How could they have caught on this quickly?"
      The moment they escaped from the shop they ran like hell.  Now they
were way far away from the town and seated around a table at McDonalds
and for the most part away from the officers, but the sense of paranoia
was spreading through all of them.  Every other second one of them would
check over their shoulders.
      "Good thing we dyed our hair, huh?" Dylan said, not bothering to
hide the sarcasm.  "This whole trip has been one joke after another.  I
bet you didn't even have a bullet in that gun you pointed at me."
      "Would you like to go out back and run that question by me again?"
Adam scowled.
      "Alright," Michael interrupted.  "Enough.  It doesn't matter if
this trip is a joke or not, the point is that we're too far in to turn
around.  The police are on our tail.  Once we get to Ohio we'll use my
mom's house as a safe haven."
      Nobody rebuked his idea.  Reason being, they didn't have any ideas
of their own to offer.  Macy tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, and
nodded her head.  "I also think we should keep a low profile.  We've been
to too many places, that waitress last night, the guy at Motel 6, the
hairdresser, the store keeper.  That's probably how the police caught up
with us.  It doesn't take much to interrogate somebody and find out
answers.  So maybe from here on out we should travel by night."
      Looks of skepticism ran around the table.  "Because that's not
dangerous," Dylan finally spoke up.
      "It's less dangerous than walking around broad day-light where we
will be noticed by anybody.  Also," she dropped her voice.  "The police
will be less inclined to search during the night."
      "She has a point," Michael agreed, finishing his chicken nuggets.
He glanced to the left outside the window, where the sun was already
setting.  Long shadows were cast across the landscape and somewhere in
the near distance he heard the steady rumble of trucks on the highway.
They had been traveling nearly all day and his feet were thanking him for
it.
      It was a change of pace; and Michael could not but sigh over it and
wish for impossible things.  A lull in action came - a gentle lull - but
not at all in the shape of any disagreeable consciousness. The danger,
however, was at present so unperceived; that they did not by any means
rank as misfortunes with him.
      Michael was becoming increasingly tired as they trudged through the
underbelly of New York's suburbs.  His eyelids became heavy with the
burden of keeping up their quick moving pace through the still night.
Every so often they would pass another crummy motel and Michael would be
the first to suggest that they stop for the night, but every time his
suggestion was vetoed.
      Finally, around two in the morning, Adam stopped short on the
sidewalk, apparently his feet could not longer continue.  A cold
nocturnal passion of uprising winds swept down the deserted street of a
random town they were in.  The town was a slum, there was no denying
that, but Michael had a feeling they were close to the border of New York
and Pennsylvania.  They had to be - especially after the long, strenuous
hours they just traveled by foot.
      Adam rubbed his hands together vigorously and blew warm air on
them.  "Why don't we find a place to stay now, eh?"  He struck a match
and lit a cigarette and offered cigarettes all around, but nobody took up
on his offer.  He shrugged and dropped the package in his back pocket.
      "See any Holiday Inns?" Macy inquired, peering up and down the
street.
      "Come off it," Adam replied in annoyance.  "Even if there was one
right in the middle of the fucking street we wouldn't stay there, because
we don't have enough money."
      A doorknob rattled behind them and a door creaked open.  All four
of them jumped, completely taken aback, as a woman emerged.  Adam placed
his hand on his book bag, feeling for the gun.
      The stranger introduced herself as Jenna Kloves, she looked
sensible, and was a very old and sturdy character.  She lived above the
bakery that they had been standing outside of and was a little bit more
welcoming than what is expected in human nature, which put Michael on the
paranoid side, but who could be cautious of an old woman?  He realized
that she had been addressing them in her feeble voice.
      "- I couldn't help to over hear your conversation."
      "What do you do, stand with your ear up against the door all night
long?" Dylan asked, scrunching his face up with disbelief.
      Jenna cackled.  "Oh goodness, no, I only have so many hours left on
this earth do you really think I would spend them in that manner?  I
should say not.  No, I'm the owner of this bakery shop," she hitched her
thumb over her shoulder.  "And I was just locking up."
      "At two in the morning?" Macy asked, cocking her eyebrow.
      "I close at midnight today, because I had a sale.  The store is
still a mess even after I spent two hours cleaning it up."  She shook her
head, her wispy gray hair falling from its tight bun.  "In any case, I
was heading back up to my place and I overheard your conversation and I'm
willing to help you."
      "That's very kind of you ma'am, but we're perfectly okay with
staying in a hotel." Adam said curtly.
      "The next hotel isn't for miles," Jenna responded, fixing her
hair.  "Listen, I'm not a serial killer, or a rapist, I'm just an old
lady who is out reaching towards the public - but if you're not willing
to accept my help, just be careful on these streets at night.
Goodnight."  She turned around and retreated back indoors.
      "Adam!" Macy whispered harshly, "why don't we accept her offer?  We
haven't got a place to stay!"
      Adam tossed his cigarette angrily aside, saying: "No! You said
yourself that we should keep a low profile and staying with a random
stranger isn't what comes to mind.  We'll find a hotel and stay there
until tomorrow night."
      "She said there wasn't a hotel around for miles," Dylan pointed
out.  "I say we stay with her."
      Michael joined with the consensus of both Dylan and Macy and was
already a step ahead of everybody else.  He lifted his fist to knock on
the splintered door, but it swung open on its own.  A dank, musty smell
filled his nostrils.  The four of them stood at the landing, looking up a
narrow stand case.  The only lighting was the dull light shining from
Jenna's apartment upstairs.
      "Jesus," Adam muttered.  "Michael, think through this.  We blow
this wretched place and head forward to find the nearest inn."
      Michael shook his head; he had a secure feeling about this place.
One step at a time he ascended slowly, the wooden steps creaking heavily
under his weight.  He was followed by Macy, Dylan, and then Adam
hesitantly followed pursuit.  Michael reached out and gripped the wooden
railing, guiding him upwards.  However, he stopped abruptly when he felt
the sharp intake of a splinter sliding under his skin.
      "What's wrong?" came Macy's voice from the dark.
      "Nothing, just a splinter," Michael said, shaking his hand, as
though attempting to shake it out.  He continued his way to the higher
landing.  From behind the door he could hear the sound of a television
and the smell of coffee brewing.
      With little hesitation he pushed the door open and felt like he was
entering a whole new realm.  He emerged into a living room that was
filled with plush furniture; several hundred framed pictures lined the
walls; a ceiling fan twirled lazily above them.  There was a strong
contrast between the blackness of the stairwell and the vibrant colors of
Jenna's living room.  It felt like daytime.
      "Mrs. Kloves?" Michael called out, taking another step forward.
      "In the kitchen, dears!" her voice rang out.  The kitchen ran
adjacent to the living room and was even more abnormally bright with
yellow ceramic tiles, yellow cabinets, and numerous daisies placed
strategically in Lenox vases.  In a brighter light Jenna Kloves looked
perfectly harmless.  She was pudgy, well-rounded, and every wrinkle on
her face indicated where smiles once were.
      "I made coffee for the girl.  I can always spot a coffee drinker,"
she reported, lifting the kettle off of its rosy coils on the stove.  She
poured a mug for Macy.
      "Could I ask why you invited us in?  Do you do this often?" Michael
asked, settling down at the kitchen table.  He watched as Jenna bustled
to and fro, explaining herself.
      "No, truthfully, I don't do this at all."  She set out four plates
on the table and took a box out from one of the cabinets.  "Pastries made
by yours truly," she smiled.  "In fact, I usually don't trust society
enough to let a stray dog in.  As you can see my place is held up to
pristine conditions, but I do watch the news and very few people pass
through this town, unless they live here.  So even late at night the four
of you stick out like a sore thumb."
      "We're on the news?" Dylan asked, picking out a hefty size donut.
      "Not a whole lot, but it was mentioned that four teenagers are
being hunted down for the murder of a police officer.  I won't ask what
the story is behind that situation.  All I knew is that when I saw the
four of you I knew I'd better get you before anybody else does.  You
really ought to be more careful."
      Adam didn't accept a pastry.  "How do we know you aren't going to
turn us in?  Did you lie about the sale?"
      Jenna continued to smile.  "You're the stubborn one; I knew that
from the moment I saw you.  I won't turn you in, because I'm simply not
like that.  Listen, you don't have to stay here.  If you don't trust me
enough to believe that I did actually have a sale that lasted until
midnight, then you won't trust me when I say I won't turn you in."  She
untied her apron and set it outside.  "I'll let you make up your minds."
      Michael observed his splinter at length, while considering the
situation.  She really did seem like an innocent lady who could be
trusted.  After a period of silence, except for the noise of the
television in the other room, Adam let out a heavy sigh.  "Fine, as long
as I don't have to sleep with Macy again."