ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN
TWENTY
The walk back up the hill into Suburbia and through the neighborhood to edge of town was grueling, but Amy marched on without complaining like a little soldier.
"What's the longest you've ever been here?" she asked as we neared the end of the flood of houses and approached the edge of town.
"Almost five days, once," I said. "I was working on my first job after Dad died and I got into a little trouble. I had to hide out for a while."
"Five days!" she exclaimed. "How did you stand it?"
"Not very well," I said. "Dad and Séamas practically had to carry me back to the edge of town."
"I wish someone would carry me," she said.
"You're doing great," I told her. "We're almost there."
"Do we have to walk all the way across that field again? Can we just sleep right there?"
"You want to sleep in the field?" I laughed. "It would be a cold sleep," I added.
"I just can't walk all that way before I rest," she said. "How long have we been here?"
"Well, let's see," I said. "It was late at night when we got here. We were probably here all night and all day. It's probably pretty late on the next night now."
"So, 24 hours?"
"Something like that. That's not so bad."
"But I was up for a long time before that," she said. "And we've walked a lot."
"You've probably been up for a little more than forty hours," I said, "and you've probably walked twelve to fifteen miles in that time."
She sighed. "And now we have to walk back."
"I'm afraid so."
She sighed again, but she didn't cry. I wondered if I should tell her, but I thought the relief would be greater if she saw for herself. So, I said nothing as we approached the sign that said "Aphter."
"Are you ready?" I asked her.
"Do I have to close my eyes again?"
"I think you should, yes."
"Okay," she said, reaching out for my hand. I took her hand firmly and, exhaling and looking down at my feet, stepped over the city limits and out of Aphter.
The sound and wind of a tractor trailer roaring by just a couple of feet away was shocking, and Amy screamed and fell to her knees, covering her head.
"It's okay. It's okay," I said, kneeling beside her and putting my hand on her shoulder. "It's just a truck. It's gone now."
She looked up at me and then around to see the tail lights of the truck disappearing down the highway. She looked over beside us and saw the City Limits sign. "We're back at the edge of town," I told her. "The gas station is right over there." She looked up the road in the direction I was pointing. The station was only about two hundred feet away.
"They always put you back at the edge of town?" she asked, turning to look at me.
"I can't tell you," I said.
"Oh, thank God." She smiled and almost cried in relief. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you," I said.
"You're mean just like your Dad," she said.
"Thanks, Amy. Let's go." I held out my hand to help her up and the two of us, exhausted, headed for the station.
"Simon?" she asked after a minute.
"Yes?"
"Where's the car?"
"Shit."
Comments