Author’s note: This is the largest story I have ever written. Its name has changed three times and the plot is nothing like I envisioned. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1 – Sam
I needed God. It was hypocritical of me since I never believed. I couldn’t fathom his existence, so I ignored the issue altogether in the past. If God wished me to know of him, he would have simply stopped by and said hello. The lack of an introduction meant God didn’t exist, or he didn’t give a shit. To me, clergy were no different than used car salesmen promising an eternity of maintenance free driving.
More blood seeped through my fingers. God would be handy right now. The wound was probably deep. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it should. That was disconcerting. I tried to reach across my body to open the car door. My twisting torso hurt more than I thought it should. That was disconcerting as well.
My car had spun laterally in the collision. The SUV that struck mine overturned and rolled into a wire fence that separated the desert proper from the pavement. It steadied after rocking on its hood a few times. I pushed the bloody airbag back and spat some of the powdery residue from my mouth. The pink mist I created frightened me. I licked my finger, and it came back bright red. Most disconcerting. I was likely dying.
My head fell back against the broken headrest. I slowed my breathing and tried to feel how damaged my insides were. I reevaluated my need of God. I actually needed him not to exist. For if he did, I was screwed. Hell would have been devising my eternity with relish. As a human being, I sucked. I coughed up some blood that was blocking the back of my throat and wondered if it was possible to drown in my own fluids.
I groaned as I forced my free hand across my body and pulled on the door handle. I heard the mechanism pop, but the bent up door refused to move. I almost laughed, maybe my hell had already begun. I pushed with my shoulder, causing a sharp pain to emanate from the hole in my side. More blood. I wasn’t sure how much more was in my body. My hand wasn’t an effective band-aid.
The seatbelt was still fastened. Here I was killing myself to open the car door, and I hadn’t even undone the belt. More wonderful humor to consider as I burned for eternity. I popped the catch and the belt released but refused to suck itself back into its holder. No matter, if I did get out of the car, I wasn’t going to get back in. I laid down across the divider and reached for the passenger side door. The handle popped, and the door slowly opened. The hellish Arizona desert heat hit me in the face. I should have spent a few more minutes enjoying what was left of the air conditioning. I sighed, it would be good practice for the afterlife.
My legs pushed, my arm pulled as I slowly extracted myself from the now visibly smaller driver compartment. Future bruises announced themselves loudly as I moved. Things became easier once I had gotten my ass over the divider. I grabbed the hood of my car on instinct, trying to pull myself out. It felt like the coils of a stove. Damn sun. I snapped my hand back and used what leverage I could find on the cooler insides of the car. Slowly, I turned my body and came out legs first.
Standing was less of an effort than I had imagined it would be. I looked down at my side; blood was coating my shirt and covering my hand. It hadn’t begun to soak my pants. Maybe I would just die of dehydration instead of bleeding to death. I steadied myself and looked down the road in both directions. Silence, not another moving vehicle in sight, the middle of nowhere. A good road to take if you’re transporting ten pounds of pot. A really bad choice if you plan on having an accident.
I pulled out my phone. No service. Seemed right. There was no reason a shit like me deserved a break. I lifted up my shirt to see the wound. More of a gash really, about two inches long and maybe an eighth inch deep at the worst. Nasty, but not as bad as I had first thought. The side view mirror informed me that my bottom teeth had torn into my lower lip. Blood had soaked a bit of my scraggly beard. Again, not as serious as I had first thought. I was pretty confident that I would live long enough to die of thirst.
I stumbled over to my assailant’s SUV. If I walked slightly funny, it hurt less.
The windows on the driver’s side of the car had shattered. The roof frame was bent a few inches toward the front but seemed to be holding steady. I heard a low moan as I approached. Bending was difficult.
A woman lay along the overturned roof. She obviously hadn’t been wearing her seat belt. I leaned in and choked back bile. Her legs were bent wrongly. White bone had torn through her pants below the left knee. Her hips seemed oddly askew, and blood pooled around her. I reached in and pulled some her brown hair from her bloody face so I could see her eyes.
“Hello?” I said stupidly. I held back the are-you-alright because she wasn’t. She was truly screwed. Her eyes opened slowly. I tried to smile. It would be what I wanted to see in my last moments. Someone, anyone smiling would be better than nothing. I had little doubt these were her last moments.
“Hi,” she groaned back. I reached in and grasped her hand that was lying limp near her head. I don’t think she could feel it. “How bad?” I was about to lie. I couldn’t. If it were me, I would want to know.
“Bad,” I said, trying to be soft. I saw a tear form in her eye. I bit back my own. I hadn’t cried since I was ten. Then again, I never saw someone die before. “There’s no one on the road and no phone service.”
“You’re here,” she said. I moved closer. I hate death. I don’t do funerals or go near hospitals. For some reason, empathy forced me to commit to her. There wasn’t anyone else to dump it on and I couldn’t let her die alone in the desert. “I’m so sorry,” she groaned. I wasn’t exactly caring who was to blame for the accident. It seemed silly now.
“It doesn’t matter,” I stuttered. Damn tears. “Is there someone you want me to talk with?” I hoped she wasn’t worthless like me. I hoped she had someone.
“You can’t let them take the baby,” she said weakly, her eyes darting from side to side. I think she wanted to move her head, and it wasn’t responding. Delirium was setting in. “Promise me,” she added.
“I…” my words caught when my eyes spotted movement in the back. An upside down car seat, still secured, contained a strapped in baby with wide open eyes looking at me like being upside down was normal. The child’s thin hair was hanging straight down, moving with the turns of it’s head.
“Shit!” I said too loud. I tried to crawl under the seat tops, failed and retracted myself quickly from the car. Ignoring the pain, I practically dove into the back window. It took way too long to decipher the car seat connections. The baby just looked at me, its upside down eyes barely blinking as they traveled around my face. It made no sound beyond blowing drool bubbles out the corner of its mouth. My only thought was to bring it to its mother. She had to see that her baby was okay. One could die in peace knowing that – I was sure of it. I silently cursed the insane engineer who designed the car seat.
When the seat finally broke free, I lowered it gently and turned the child around. It made a funny face, like an old man trying to struggle up a tall flight of stairs. A wet gurgling sound followed from within the seat. The smell that quickly grew was staggering. I ignored it as best I could. I pushed some flowered cloth bags out of the way and pulled the child, seat and all, out the window. The base of the seat barely fit. It wasn’t going to make it into the front.
I set the car seat on the ground and started undoing more straps. Another moan from the front made me move faster. The child just watched me work, unconcerned it was 110 degrees out, and we would all likely soon die. I crawled carefully while keeping the smelly child at arms length. I scooted myself back in and sat the baby next to its mother, out of the pooling blood. My side was complaining fiercely, but I wasn’t dying.
“Don’t let them take her,” the woman insisted. A struggled smile formed on her lips as her eyes took in the child.
“She’s fine,” I said, realizing it was a girl, “I’ll make sure she gets where she needs too.” The woman gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes at some unknown wave of pain.
“You have to take her,” the woman continued, “there’s no one else.” She paused to deal with more pain. How I wished I could ease it. I hated watching. “They’ll come after you.” I wasn’t sure who she thought I was.
“I’m not someone you give a baby too,” I said, “I’ll get her to the police. I won’t let anyone take her.” I could promise no more, and I wasn’t going to lie to a dying woman – delirious or not.
“No!” she shouted. It cost her a lot. I reached in to hold her hand again. This was harder than I ever imagined.
“She’s special. They will try and take her,” she was gasping for air, “you must not let that happen.” I studied her carefully and no longer thought she was the mother. Something was screwed up. Maybe she was one of those crazy women who steals other’s babies. Her breathing was coming in fits. “What’s your name?” she asked during an exhale.
“Sam,” I answered.
“Promise me, Sam,” she struggled with the words. A damn dying wish.
“I can’t take a baby,” I insisted. Pot running was one thing; kidnapping was a whole different 20 years in prison.
“They will use her,” she said, her eyes trying desperately to stay open. Who the hell uses babies? The woman needed the truth. It wasn’t like she could turn me in.
“I’m two-bit drug mule,” I said. The admission hurt. It was what I was, and I didn’t see that ever changing. “I’m not fit to take care of a baby.” The woman smiled a huge smile of forgiveness I didn’t deserve. I wanted her to take it back.
“Take her to Portland,” the woman pleaded. Blood was leaking from her mouth, ruining the smile. “Promise me you’ll take her that far.”
“Portland,” I nodded, I knew I was lying. I was lying to a dying woman. I was truly shit.
“138 North Packard. Repeat it.” The blood was making her words bubbly.
“138 North Packard,” I said back. The baby babbled, joining in the lies I was telling.
“They will hunt you,” She said, her eyes no longer focusing on me or anything else. Her delusions were getting stronger. “Sam!” she suddenly called out.
“I’m here,” I said, moving my hand from her lifeless palm to her forehead.
“You will do it?” she pleaded again.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Then know, I love you for it. I love…” Silence followed. Her eyes never closed when the breathing stopped. Damn tears. I pushed more of her hair away from her face. I couldn’t stop the flood. I scooted back out the window, pulling the stinking baby out with me. I placed her in her car seat and looked at the nameless little girl.
“She loved me,” I said softly. Words I hadn’t heard since I was a child. The baby smiled at my memories. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to let it go. She loved me, and I never asked for her name.
I pulled the baby and her seat into the little shade the side of the car offered. She babbled at the sound of the seat scraping along the sandpaper surface. I crawled back into the back window, pulling out the two flowery bags I ignored before. Hopefully, there was something in them. In my trunk, I only had a small overnight bag, pot, and a couple of blankets to cover the pot.
The first bag was the baby’s. Diapers, wipes, and a six pack of warm juice boxes with two empty baby bottles. If there was a God, he sent the juice boxes. The devil must have sent the diapers. I couldn’t in good conscience allow the child to sit in her poop now. The diapers were all loose without instructions. I fished deeper into the bag. A couple of rubber chew toys and a folded plastic mat, no diaper directions. I looked at the child.
“You know how to do this?” I said, holding up one of the diapers. She smiled.
“You’re a stinky baby,” I said, smiling back. This time I received a large toothless grin. I poked her tummy with the end of the diaper. “Stinky, stinky,” I babbled. She could laugh. The death of the lady, my totaled car, and our slow demise to dehydration disappeared in that laugh. I had her unconditional attention and a selfishly abused it. Absorbing baby laughter seemed to lighten the misery. No matter what I did, as long as I smiled, she would break into her breathy laugh that cooled my ears. She was special alright.
I spread out the plastic mat in the shade of the car. I lifted the smiling baby and laid her gently on her back. She was wearing a red flowered matching shirt and pants. Her arms were reaching for me as I pulled off her pants while calling her Stinky. She seemed to adore the name. I found new and exciting ways to pronounce it. She loved it more. I learned I liked baby girls. Too bad they grow up to become picky and judgemental.
I looked carefully at how her diaper was attached. Taped at the front. I unfolded a new diaper and flipped it over so it would work like the current one. This wasn’t going to be as difficult as I thought. I released the tabs on the tape and undid her diaper and pulled back the front.
“Oh…Stinky,” I groaned, trying not to lose what little was in my stomach. She laughed at that too. It was brown with green streaks, smelling of sewer, and seemed to be everywhere. I placed my hand over her tummy, to keep her in place while I fished for the baby wipes I had seen in the bag. I tried not to look at the mess.
My hand began to tingle on her tummy, almost like it had gone to sleep. I grabbed the package of wipes with my other hand, turning my attention back to Stinky. The tingle had expanded up my arm, a strangely comfortable feeling. I slowed, watching her eyes take me in. My body embraced the pleasant feeling as it spread. My smile grew, my eyes closed. Peace, simple and pure, wrapped around me like a blanket.
An awe of life developed inside me. I remembered the first time I saw the vastness of the ocean, the desert sunset, and a baby deer in the woods. All of these spread like a soft fog in my mind. Each igniting an excitement in tomorrow. My place was comfortably defined, yet a vastness so unlimited was spread before me, and nothing seemed impossible. Most of what I had done before was no more than a lesson of what not to do. I had so much potential and knew what was needed. I saw the future, where I should be, a place where I mattered and had the respect of so many. There was no embarrassment, no failures or regrets. Happiness was such a simple thing.
I quickly pulled my hand away. The feelings dissipated like a receding tide. I breathed. She was very special.
“Who are you, Stinky?” I asked. The little smile factory gave me no answer I could understand.
Chapter 2 – Sam
Stinky’s butt was disgusting. A newfound respect for my mother grew in me as I lifted legs, shifted them this way and that, using way too many wipes to remove the foulness. The tingling started again, so I switched hands which seemed to stall the effect.
“You’re gross, Stinky,” I said, trying not to gag. She just smiled. Anything I would say or do seemed to please her. “Your butts all red now. What did you eat? It’s like toxic waste.” More smiles and part of a laugh. I had to switch hands again.
“I got it on my damn fingers,” I said, pulling another wipe out. Stinky seemed to enjoy my complaining. I had to admit, I enjoyed her smiles. I always figured being a parent was a sucker play. I was beginning to see the appeal. Her happiness was contagious.
I pulled away the soiled diaper and filled it with nasty wipes, folding the grossness away. I tucked the clean diaper under Stinky’s red butt. It took me two tries at taping it shut. It was too loose the first time.
“There, isn’t that better?” I asked her. She kicked her legs at me, obviously pleased with her clean ass. It was strange, looking down at her. At that moment, I was all she had. My hands found her feet and pumped them back and forth like she was riding a bike. She thought it was a fabulous game. The tingling began again. This time, I didn’t let go.
Dreams, fabulous dreams. My own dreams made whole. Paths to achieving them no longer seemed insurmountable. My mental fortitude grew as fast as my potential. I saw how I could shape the world, adding instead of subtracting, building instead of weakening. I liked myself for the first time in years. I let go of Stinky’s feet and breathed deep. She smiled. I knew then I would make good on my lies. Stinky was going to Portland. She was too important to ignore.
Stinky and I sat, splitting an apple juice box. I was able to squeeze half of it into one of the bottles without getting everything sticky. She was pretty good about helping to hold the bottle. We were partners in crime now. I had thrown the fouled diaper and wipes as deep into the desert as I could. The odor had been too much to bear. Stinky did nothing to stop me, so I labeled her an accessory to my blatant disregard for the Arizona littering laws. Stinky and I were badass.
Eventually, another vehicle would come down the road. It was a lonely two-lane road used mostly for ranch access. As the heat of the day wound down, someone would want to take a trip to civilization. If not, it would be a very long walk. One I wouldn’t attempt with the sun up.
I settled Stinky into her car seat, buckling her back in. Leaving her in the shade, I retrieved the pot I had been transporting, wrapped it in one of the blankets and stashed it off the side of the road, behind a sequoia that was hosting a few scraggly bushes at its base. I was taking a risk that it wouldn’t be found. Losing a delivery was not a healthy thing to do. Since I had stopped bleeding, I changed into a clean shirt I had in my travel bag. The other blanket, I used to cover the poor woman. A task I found difficult.
I couldn’t find a purse and it didn’t feel right to search the body. I wondered if I would ever know who loved me. The second bag from Stinky’s car held some women’s clothes and toiletries. At the bottom of the bag, I found a thick roll of twenty dollar bills. I transferred the few things of Stinky’s into the diaper bag, plus the money. Just shy of three thousand dollars. Stinky’s inheritance, more than enough to get us to Portland.
I looked at the time on my phone and thought I should wait thirty minutes before opening another juice box. I had it worked out to get us to sunset. It was so damn hot; even sweat evaporated before it could soak clothes. After it got dark, we would have to start walking. We spent our waiting time talking. Well, I talked, and Stinky listened. She was a wonderful listener, unlike all the women in my past. She laughed at my jokes and just about anything else I spoke about.
Two juice boxes later, I began to get concerned. Stinky was getting lethargic. Her reactions slowed, and the animation had left her arms and legs. I pulled her out of her chair and laid her back on the plastic mat in the shade. She felt warm, so I stripped her to her diaper. I used a clean diaper as a fan and created a breeze for her. She closed her eyes, her lips moving as if they were feeding. She slept as I fanned and worried.
I got it in my head that Stinky was my chance at redemption. I had done some pretty awful things in my life. Nothing like murder but screwing over others never bothered me. The strange hope that bled through Stinky was mind altering. I didn’t understand it; I just accepted it. I made it my mission to preserve it. If I could do that, it would be like apologizing to the world and the world having to accept. She was my life raft. She was changing me, and it felt good.
It’s not like I had much future in transporting pot. Colorado was the first state to fall, and I was sure others would follow in time. Once it was a business, uneducated slobs like me were out of a job. Bussing tables or washing dishes was all I was qualified for. That would have to change.
The lady said I would be hunted, that they would use Stinky. The thoughts didn’t sound as ridiculous as when I had first heard them. I didn’t know who ‘they’ were, but I knew how to hide. I had been practicing running under the radar for my whole adult life. A child was just another package. I could move her from point A to point B without being noticed. Stinky was my destiny. My ultimate run. I looked down at the sleeping baby. Hope had an amazing effect.
The shadows were long when I finally heard an engine. A small box truck was coming down the road. I lifted stinky in my arms, waking her. I didn’t like how warm she was. Her head fell to my shoulder sluggishly. I needed the vehicle to stop. I couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t. Her legs were using my arm like a seat causing the tingle to grow. Clarity surged through me. The desert lost its dullness, its beauty exploding in my eyes. I saw the slight increase in the speed of the truck and sensed the driver’s desire to pass us by. It was as clear as if I were sitting next to him. I was inside him. I knew his conscience was digging into his mind, fighting against a desire to avoid other’s problems. I stepped onto the road with confidence. The brakes engaged, the back of the truck sliding sideways, the driver compensating as I knew he would. The truck skid to a halt. I had five feet to spare. Not really a challenge.
“Shit!” the driver screamed as he exited the truck. He slammed the door. “Are you stupid? I almost killed you.” He was a stocky man in overalls.
“I needed you to stop,” I said, walking quickly to passenger side of the cab. He wasn’t the violent type. I don’t know how I knew, I just did. He was scared, socially inept. Unconfident in a crisis but generally a good man. Hope told me so.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ the man yelled, hurrying after me.
“My baby needs to cool down,” I replied, “she’s overheated. We’ve been out here all day.” I wasn’t stopping. He did.
“A baby?” He said with sorrow. I could feel his heart drop. He almost left a child on the side of the road. Guilt filled him, then a strength swelled in his mind. He committed. “Let me start up the truck, get the air going again.” He moved quickly to the driver side. I found the passenger side locked. The man climbed into the driver seat and unhesitantly popped the lock. It felt significantly cooler in the cab.
I laid Stinky on the bench seat, climbed in and closed the door. The man closed his door and started up the engine and adjusted the air to full. He put both hands on the wheel, bowed his head and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Stinky’s power had receded and left me with a slight headache. I couldn’t feel him any longer, and the memory of the oncoming truck sent a shiver through me. I had to take a deep breath to quell the latent fear.
“You stopped,” I said with half a smile, “we’re grateful.” I hoped it would be enough. I needed him to trust me. I closed my eyes and tried to forget the image of the oncoming truck. The damn thing almost hit me. I ran my hand along Stinky’s back. It was uncomfortably warm.
“Let me pull off to the side,” he said, putting the truck into gear. I nodded as we maneuvered off the road. I could have told him it was unnecessary. He was the first vehicle in nearly four hours.
“I’m Jack,” I said, holding out my hand. Not my real name, but I felt he needed some frame of reference.
“Charlie,” he responded, shaking my hand.
“This is my daughter, Mary,” I said, continuing the lies. He smiled at Stinky.
“What happened?” He asked, looking at the overturned car.
“Best guess,” I said with confidence, “the lady in that car fell asleep behind the wheel.” I pointed to the overturned vehicle.
“Where…is she?” Charlie was at a loss for words. Like me, I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with death.
“I don’t think she was wearing her seat belt,” I answered, “she didn’t make it. I don’t even know her name.” I didn’t have to fake my sorrow. She loved me and entrusted me with Stinky.
“Oh, hell,” Charlie sighed, looking down at his feet. “Anyone else hurt?”
“No, Mary and I were lucky,” I responded. Stinky’s skin was cooling. I lifted my hand as the tingling started. For some reason, I felt it best not to live in it. It was special and probably shouldn’t be used as a crutch. I certainly didn’t want to extend my headache or jump in front of another oncoming truck.
“I can get you to Winslow,” Charlie said, “phone coverage will be spotty for awhile.”
“Anywhere but here,” I said in a grateful tone.
“What about the lady in the car?” Charlie asked. He didn’t look like he wanted to touch a dead body. Nor did I.
“Do you have room in the back?” I asked, tilting my head toward the rear.
“I don’t have the key,” Charlie said, “I’m helping my brother move. He’s got the key to the padlock.” I disliked leaving the nameless woman alone in the desert. There was no way she could ride up front and I wasn’t going to insult the body by strapping it to the roof. The police were going to have to handle it.
“It’s probably best if we just call the police as soon as we can,” I said, “anything else seems disrespectful.” Charlie gave me a relieved nod of agreement. “I covered her with a blanket. It’s the best we can do for now.”
“Gather what you need, I’ll watch your daughter.” I left the cab and gathered Stinky’s diaper bag, car seat, and my overnight bag. It took a few minutes to get the car seat set up. I had to guess how the seat belts fed through the frame. It seemed secure when I buckled Stinky, still sound asleep, into it. I was relieved to find her skin physically cooler. It was tight, but I squeezed in with the bags and we headed off.
“I’m glad you happened by.” I tried to bolster Charlie. I needed his trust. “I think we were pretty close to being in real trouble.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” Charlie said, ignoring his initial misgivings, “must have been pretty bad by the looks of the cars.”
“Yeah, my side is killing me,” I said, lifting the edge of my shirt. The blood was all dry. Nothing new was leaking out.
“Those car seats must really work,” Charlie continued, his eyes traveling to Stinky for a quick look.
“I don’t think she even knew it happened,” I said, giving Stinky’s feet a quick squeeze, “the heat bothered her more.”
“Bet her mother will be relieved,” Charlie said with a grin.
“I’m all Mary’s got Charlie,” I said sadly, “Cancer.” That one word explained a lot. It also guaranteed he wouldn’t dig any further. It was shitty of me to invent a dead wife, but I needed to keep the story simple. Some shared grief goes a long way to building trust.
“I’m so sorry.” Charlie’s grin faded quickly. “It must be hard, raising her by yourself.”
“It’s been hard, but she’s a good kid,” I said, my eyes on Stinky, “she doesn’t complain much and she’s a wonderful listener.” I added the last to lighten the talk up. No need to concentrate on death.
“She sure is a pretty girl.” Charlie’s smile returned. I joined him. She was certainly the best looking baby I had ever seen.
“Got her looks from her mother,” I added.
“Hopefully, all girls do,” Charlie joked. We shared a small chuckle. Bonding complete.
“You live in Winslow?” I asked.
“Nope, I live in Albuquerque,” Charlie replied, his posture more relaxed, “my brother is moving to Flagstaff. Following his new wife who has a better job than he does.” He pointed down the road. “I took a wrong turn and found myself on this long cut.” I smiled as if it could happen to anyone. I was more than pleased he didn’t know the locals. It would make things easier for the both of us.
Stinky started, her arms jerking as she woke. Her eyes found mine and she smiled. She trusted me. I wasn’t sure I was worthy of the trust. My words to Charlie were bold faced lies. I lied as much as I told the truth in my life. I did the only thing I could do in midst of such faith. I tickled her toes and smiled back. Her temperature seemed to have returned to normal.
“She sure loves you,” Charlie stated, his eyes moving between the road and Stinky. The thought was entirely too pleasant. Love does not manifest in the space of a few hours. I hadn’t felt it since I was a child. Love was for other people. She merely trusts me. Normally I would think the trusting person a fool. In this case, her trust was not unfounded.
We had driven for 15 minutes before Charlie’s turned onto a real road with other cars and his phone dinged. I pulled mine out and saw two bars. I made a show of sliding my finger and pushing the screen and then sighed loudly as I turned it off.
“Out of juice,” I lied, waving my phone in disgust.
“Here, use mine,” Charlie offered. I thanked him and dialed 911. Much better that it be his phone. I had no idea who might want Stinky. There was no reason to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for them. I would have avoided the phone call altogether if the lady wasn’t lying dead in the desert. She deserved more than to be forgotten.
“I need to report an accident,” I said once the operator answered. I went through an explanation that Charlie wouldn’t discount. I explained the reason I had to leave the scene and the unfortunate death. I had some trouble explaining its location. There weren’t many landmarks, and the turnoffs were unmarked, most likely very long driveways. Between Charlie and I, they had enough information to find the spot. I promised I would go directly to the police station in Winslow as soon as my daughter was taken care of. I trusted them to care of the lady’s remains. Their trust in me was unfounded.
We approached Winslow as the sun set. It was a smaller city than I hoped. The problem with small towns is that everyone knows everyone else. A stranger and his daughter would have difficulty blending in. It would also be more difficult to find transportation. I had to remain near the highway, blend with the travelers and head out as quickly as possible. I had to find someway to get rid of Charlie as well.
“The Motel 6 sounds good,” I said, pointing at the billboard that forecasted it a mile ahead. “Can you drop us off there?”
“Sure,” Charlie replied, “or I can get you to Flagstaff. It might be a little easier to get some transportation from there.” He gave me a knowing smile. I swallowed hard.
Chapter 3 – Sam
“I’m supposed to see the police in Winslow,” I said, keeping my falsehoods straight. Maybe Charlie forgot. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Mary, or whatever her name is … special,” Charlie straightened his arms, pushing his back into the seat and flexing his shoulders. “I don’t know how, but she showed me things when you were getting your bags.” He turned to me, “She trusts you, so I trust you. I even trust that your lies are necessary.” His eyes returned to the road. I watched him for a moment. I wasn’t the only one Stinky affected. Jealousy flashed for a moment, but I let it go.
“You felt her?” I verified.
“If you can call it that,” he answered, “one second I was rubbing her back and the next I was perfectly there.” Perfect was a good word. Supreme clarity. “I know you cared for the woman in that car. I know you care for Mary. I also sensed your need to stay under the radar.”
“I call her Stinky,” I said. Stinky lit up and smiled at my words. “I don’t know her real name either.” Charlie smiled as well. “My real name is Samuel. My friends call me Sam.”
“Why Stinky, Sam?” he asked.
“Let’s stop at a grocery store and I’ll show you,” I said with humor, “I didn’t know when she ate last, but I do know when she pooped last.” Charlie laughed. It was a good healthy laugh that brought out a breathy one from Stinky.
“Food is a good idea,” Charlie agreed. I confided in him, telling him the truth as I knew it, knowing he had felt a lot of it through Stinky. I left out the ten pounds of pot since I didn’t know where he drew his moral line. We pulled into a grocery store off Interstate 40, inside of Winslow proper. I fished out pants and a shirt for Stinky so she would be more presentable.
“She sure is a calm child,” Charlie observed, “my brothers kids can’t go thirty minutes without complaining about something.” He was right, not that I had much experience. When I paid attention to her, she smiled. When I didn’t, she just watched me. I suspect she was as hungry as I was, but not a single cry to let me know.
“Special,” was all I said. Charlie nodded. I added some socks which seemed to please Stinky or maybe she thought I was playing with her feet. No matter. Her smile owned me.
Two men with a baby pushing a cart through a grocery attracted attention. I hadn’t thought it would, but we were getting looks. Mostly from the women. A glance at us, one at Stinky and a strange knowing smile. I think they thought we were a gay couple with a child. I started smiling back. I was the type of person who didn’t get second looks. Stinky got me those looks, even if it was for the wrong reason. I straightened, trying to look like a good father.
We hit the diaper aisle and stocked up. I grabbed a few more boxes of wipes. I had to figure out a way to not use half a box per poop. We moved to the baby food aisle and were immediately lost. Neither of us had any idea of what to get. There were choices galore and advertising that seemed specific to age and development. I wasn’t sure how old Stinky was. Charlie gave me a funny look and a shrug when I asked him. So, I asked Stinky.
I wrapped my hand around Stinky’s and let the tingle turn to wonder. Wonder to clear thought. Memories from bits of conversation and blurbs from words I had forgotten I’d read came flooding back. I stuck my little finger in Stinky’s mouth. A couple of sharp little razors bit down. New teeth, somewhere around six months. Not crawling yet, less than ten months. I moved along the aisle till I found the proper solid food choices. Nothing dramatic, some carrots and green beans, well pureed. I picked up some Cheerios for her to gnaw on. Water and some yogurt for a cool treat. I opted for formula instead of milk. I remembered hearing some TV doctor say that cow’s milk should be introduced slowly, at around eight months. I was in the third grade when I watched that with my mother.
I felt apprehension and fear. Not mine, someone else’s. I looked at Charlie and saw indifference. It came from the aisle on the other side of the baby food. I walked around the endcap tasting fear mixed with an oppressive need. A young man with dusty brown hair and an unshaven face that had yet to fully mature. He stared at a bag of dog food. His jeans were baggy, and he wore an untucked long sleeve shirt. I could see the sweat on his temples and could feel him trying to build courage. He needed money desperately. Debt and shame were piled on his shoulders. I could sense the gun he hid in his pants. I looked at Stinky, and she smiled. I smiled back and walked toward the up and coming criminal.
“I’ll buy your gun for a thousand,” I offered quietly. He jumped. Stinky and I smiled.
“What?” he said, his eyes darting up and down the aisle. He thought I was setting him up.
“I’ll give you a thousand for your gun,” I repeated. It was so logical. He needed money, and I had extra. No one would get hurt. He wouldn’t end up in jail, and the gun would leave circulation. I saw his hand moving slowly to his back. “You’ll never make it,” I warned. My reflexes, even holding Stinky, would be far beyond his. My confidence was unwavering.
“It’s not my gun,” He said, letting his arm drop back down to his side. I shrugged my shoulders. It was his choice. I just smiled. “Okay,” he capitulated. I dropped my hand from Stinky and reached into my pocket for the roll of bills. My confidence and perfect presence fled. The fear was incredible. There is no such thing as extra money. This nutcase was going to rob the place, and I was about to pull out a wad of bills. I was doing it with a baby in my arms. I was a complete idiot.
I shifted my hand that was holding Stinky and slid my thumb under her top and let it lay against her back. Brilliance returned a moment too late. The boy had seen my hesitation and went for the gun. It came from his back, the barrel moving from the floor toward me. Time moved slowly for him, too slow. In the time it took him to raise the barrel, my hand shot from my pocket and diagrams of a Colt 45, original model 1911, flashed through my mind. My hand covered his; one finger engaged the safety another depressed the magazine release and still another tucked under his thumb disallowing the additional grip safety to be depressed. His eyes widened as the magazine hit the floor with a metallic clatter.
My foot moved quickly, topping the magazine, sliding it behind me and out of his reach. I twisted the weapon and the barrel away from us while moving Stinky farther from his reach. My weight went to my left foot. My right foot was ready. I had no doubt I could hit his head with it if I so wished. The boy’s muscles slackened, his eyes moving from mine to Stinky’s. He visibly calmed, then smiled.
“I have made a mistake,” He said as his finger left the trigger. The words didn’t fit his age or demeanor. He made no move to release the weapon. He wished me to hold him. Stinky’s gift was traveling through me.
“How much do you need?” I asked.
“$480,” He replied, “It’s my grandfather’s gun. I need to return it.” I let go of him and the Colt. Reality returned to him. He stared for a moment, then replaced the gun under his shirt and into his pants. “I’m sorry,” he offered. I pulled my thumb from Stinky’s back. I let my breath out as real life took hold again. My right foot was no longer a weapon.
“You saw your potential,” I said as I fished back into my pocket pulling out the roll of twenties. He was no longer highly concerned with the amount. I handed him the roll. “Take what you need.”
“Who is she?” He asked as he slid the rubber band off the bills.
“Someone very special,” I replied. He counted off exactly $480, replaced the rubber band and handed the rest of bills to me. I put them back in my pocket.
“An angel,” he suggested while he pocketed the money. Charlie came around the corner and stopped in front of the magazine that was still on the floor.
“I miss something?’ Charlie asked.
“A future rewritten,” I said with an aplomb I didn’t deserve to portray. It was Stinky’s doing after all. The young man chuckled under his breath. “Are you going to be alright?” I asked him.
“I think so,” he said with a smile. Charlie reached down and retrieved the magazine. “She changes things. How does she do it?”
“Ahh, you’ve been in her world,” Charlie said, holding out the magazine. The young man took it and deposited it his front pocket.
“We have no idea,” I answered, “faith seems to be part of it.” The words felt strange coming from my mouth. I was always faithless. Maybe she was an angel. A stinky angel. Stinky leaned away from my chest trying to grab a colorful can off the shelf next to us. It was too big for her hand, so she just pushed it around trying to get a grip. Her face was tight with concentration. All baby at that moment.
“I have some apologies to make,” the young man continued, “I’ve been pretty much an asshole for the last couple of years.” He shook his head, “she washed out a lot of stupid. What’s her name?”
“Stinky,” Charlie answered with a grin. Stinky turned and smiled at Charlie. She knew we were talking about her.
“Thank you, Stinky,” the man said with humor. Her eyes moved to the young man. He nodded, turned and walked away. I watched him walk without the swagger I would expect from a young hoodlum.
