Baxter and Josh On the Run
Chapter 3
“My Mom told me not to talk to you, and to never get into your car.” Oh, this is just too much. I didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it or scream. Instead, in exasperation and at a complete loss, I sat down on the bed next to Josh and tried to get my emotions under control. I mean, how could I be mad at him? He just stood there lightly shaking as tears slowly rolled down his cheeks and splashed onto the clutched picture of a smiling little boy and his mother gazing joyfully at a world that no longer existed.
“Josh, do you know why your Mom told you that?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at his shoes and growing somehow even quieter. In a quiet whisper so faint, he said “She said that you were a bad man, and you went to prison for hurting little boys, and that I should stay away from you unless she was there with me.” Damn. I’m on the run to save my life and that of a kid I barely know, and I still can’t escape a decade’s old fuck up.
“Look, Josh, your Mom was partially correct. I did go to prison. But, I did not mean to hurt anyone. I just loved someone I shouldn't have, someone who was too young. I went to prison, I took my punishment, don't I get some forgiveness? Sometimes people make mistakes, kid. Sometimes, people make horrible choices. Does it end there, do I get no more chances at life? I took my punishment, kid. I took my punishment,” I said, my chest heaving and my vision going hazy with eyes too full of this still raw torment.
I realized that I was slipping again, taking it out on this poor kid who just lost his mother and was only doing what she told him to do.
“Josh, I’m not here to tell you I’m some sort of an angel. But you heard your mother tell me to take you and run, didn't you?” He nodded almost imperceptibly, more a lifting of his chin from his chest a bit. I reached over, lifting his chin so we were looking eye to eye. “Well, this is where you are going to have to make your decision. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, to do what your mother told me to do. But you have to make the decision to come with me because I will not force you.”
Josh looked at me with an odd expression that seemed to spell out his confusion over opposing instructions from his mother. I could almost feel him in my mind, searching something, his eyes looking right through to my core as his mind churned this moral dilemma. Time stalled for what seemed hours as he sorted my soul until, finally, a bit of light seemed to reflect in those sad blue eyes.
“You're sorry?”
I startled a bit at the quiet question. “Yeah, bud, I am. He was a really special young man.”
“Ok.” He still wasn't moving fast, but at that word he slowly walked out the door and got into the back seat of the car, buckled in, and hugged his mother's bedding. And, with this that little bright spirit gave me forgiveness for something that I have spent years trying to understand and move past. He made it so very simple. I choked down a sob and, quickly wiping my tears, joined this little wise one in the car.
Josh needed food, good food, not that junk I bought yesterday at the gas station. We stopped at McD's because what kid could refuse clown cuisine? Well, it was a battle of instincts set on the stage of a little boy's face as the siren call of bad fast food faced off against crippling sadness. He ate, but those eyes were still dark and distant. Still, he ate. When we dumped our trays, and most of the food was gone, I wanted to high five that damn clown.
Now, off to the maze of Walmart, that king of cheap. Surprising me, Josh latched onto my belt as I pushed the cart among the throng of morning shoppers. First on the list were camping supplies: tent, grill, simple tool kit, hatchet and knife, fishing poles and simple tackle, extra-large sleeping bag, battery operated radio and a few books for each of us, and a “burner” cell phone. Then off to get toothbrush and paste, razor, and a bit of food. I didn't want to stand out too sharply with my purchases. The idea was to disappear, not look like we were stocking up. We could make more stops before getting to our destination. My experience with camping was limited, I was only in the scouts for a year, but reading trash novels and fantasies of how wonderful it would be to escape into the woods colored the last few years of my life. We made our way to the front registers and the check-out lady thought my son was ‘Just a cuutiee’. I didn't correct her.
“Going camping, dear?” she asked. Good night! I had hoped to get that bored register lady who was just trying to get through her day and left the customers alone to get through theirs. Nope. With an unvoiced and very deep sigh, I lied and told her it was ‘Joey's’ first time and we were going into the ‘wilderness’ of our back yard.
“Oh, where is that?” She had this annoying habit of smacking her gum that was almost funny in a ridiculous way. It seemed to fit her wild pink highlighted teenage hair, so out of place on a woman clearly into her late thirties.
“Bailey,” I told her, a town we passed just before the store area. A good deception has to be unremarkable. Josh had buried his face into my ribs as soon as the lady began speaking, so I presumed she would leave him out of the conversation. Again, that was a nope.
“Oh, you are going to have a blast, you little cutie,” she went on as she smacked her gum between phrases. “I remember my first camping out trip,” smack, smack, smack. “I got scared and ran inside when a thunderstorm woke me up,” smack, smack, smack. “Yep, ran right to my mother's bed and climbed right in with her,” smack, smack, smack. All this interspersed with the beeps from the scanner as she passed our purchases across the bar code reader in beat with her smacking. “My brothers teased me for years about that, but mom never minded me being afraid of thunderstorms,” smack, beep, smack, beep, smack, beep. My God, it was hypnotic. “That will be $297.49, sir,” smack, smack, smack. “Yeah, I always hated thunderstorms,” smack, smack, smack. “Mom camped with me once in a while...,” she just kept rambling on, never noticing how Josh stiffened as she spoke. I thought he would lose it when she spoke of her mother, but his tears were quiet. I couldn't handle much more of her talking and gum smack-smack-smacking myself. I really wanted to give her a smack, and she was still talking and smacking her gum when we walked away, my head shaking at the odd people in the world and my arm holding Josh tight as he hid from the world with his face in my ribs.
We were half-way to the car when Josh, still with his face buried, asked me if he could have some gum. I guffawed and reached lower to smack him on the butt. He looked up at me smiling just a bit from his joke. “Who's Joey?” Josh asked innocently. I shushed him and pulled him tighter to me. It's been a long time since I was hugged by a little boy.
Putting everything in the trunk and back seat, I used the new tool kit to swap the license plate with the car next to mine. Not the most effective cloak and dagger routine, I guess, but if it slows some things down a bit it might be worth the trouble. Besides, who looks at their license plate? Then, Josh and I went shopping for a truck. Nope, not as easy as going to a local dealer, who would have questions and paperwork. I needed something less official, private. I picked up a local paper and found what I needed listed right away. Gas prices over $3/gallon have a lot of people willing to buy a Toyota. I wanted something inconspicuous and there it was: Chevy 2500, 4-wheel drive, cab and half with a 6-foot bed and cap. The gas mileage would stink for this Detroit tank, but money was not really a concern right now. I called the man on my new cell phone and he agreed to meet me at “my house” - well, actually one that was for sale and we just pulled the sign out. Thirty minutes later the man was riding home with a friend and had $7500 burning new holes in his pocket. Josh livened up a bit seeing the truck, immediately changing the stereo station, but was sad to leave his mother's car. I explained my reasoning to him and he really surprised me with his understanding of the situation. We emptied the overloaded car into the truck and even found his mother's emergency mad money stash of $250 in the glove box. I didn't see the need to empty the car, but Josh wanted to get everything he could keep of his mother, no matter how small. Then we changed directions again and headed off to Montana. No one in Montana knew me, and hopefully no one knew Josh. It was time we became two different people anyway, and Montana was as good a place to start over as anywhere.
“So, who do you want to be, Josh?” He looked at me for a moment, then went back to staring out his door window without responding. I didn't know if this was his little way to torture me or if he was just slow at processing right now. “Josh, you in there,” I asked, concerned he had slipped back into catatonia.
“Yeah,” he said into the door window.
“So, who do you want to be?” I asked again.
“What, you mean like when I grow up?” He was at least looking at me as he spoke now, so I guess I was making progress with him.
“No, I mean who are you going to be now.” Traffic had my attention occupied, so I didn't see his face. I'm not sure how long it took before he answered, I was focused on the other vehicles, a couple of which were drivers that should have been doing similar, and I had become used to his silence.
“My mother named me Joshua after her father, and Matthew after the Bible book she was reading when I was born. I want to be Joshua Matthew.” He was so sudden and stern in his little proclamation, and had been quiet for so long, he nearly startled me into a ditch. It did startle a small laugh from me, which he rewarded with a scowl.
“Ok, Joshua Matthew, but do you know why I asked what I did.”
“No,” he said, still scowling at me.
“Josh, we have to sort of melt into the background for a bit. I need to find a way to do that, and one of the best is to start by calling you by a different name. It works fairly well, because people who hear your name 'Josh' may remember if a news broadcast comes across for you being kidnapped and such. But if they hear 'Francis Aloysius Infractitus Brown', it is just enough to create doubt or not even trigger a memory of you at all.” That at least got a smile.
“If you call me ‘Francis’, I'm going to kick you in the knee.”
“Deal,” I said. “'Aloysius Infractitus Brown' it is. No? Ok, so what can I call you that won't get me kicked?”
“Can you call me Matthew?” He had a hopeful look. I think he had a bit of fear at the concept of losing his name, like it would take away something more of him in that simple change, or perhaps take away more of his mother.
“Ok, 'Matty' it is. I'm sort of partial to Francis for you, but how about 'Matthew Joshua Brown'? And I'll be Frank Brown, your dad?” Hearing no reply, I looked over to him and saw a few tears start again.
“Buddy, we have to call you something. I promised your mom, and I'm not going to fail her.”
“No, it's ok,” he said softly, barely audible over the sound of the tires and motor. I somehow doubted his ok-ness with it, and I knew that it was going to be rough enough on the kid over the next few days, but he was carrying way too much right now. I just wasn't sure how much I wanted to push him, or for that matter just how much I wanted to get my heart involved in this kid. Right now, I was just trying to run fast enough to survive. I didn't really want this burden, and I knew that when the authorities did finally get involved I would likely either be dead or in prison again. I didn't want to have a broken heart on top of it all.
“Josh, … I mean, Matty, what is it? It's just you and me here, and you need to feel comfortable saying whatever you want. I will promise you right now that I will be truthful with you and answer all your questions as best as I can, as I've already done.”
“I, ...” he said quietly.
“What son?” That caused a whimper. Oh shit, I hurt the kid. Damn. I really should have watched Oprah like half the other fools in that monkey cage, maybe I'd have some clue right now.
“I never had a dad,” he said in a whisper.
“Sure you did, kid. You may not have made it to the sex-ed classes yet in school, but your mom didn't find you out in the cabbage patch. She had help making you, so you had a father.” I added a little chuck to the arm in the hopes of humor, but it fell absolutely flat. Kid wouldn't even look at me now.
“I don't remember him, and mom wouldn't talk about him. She just said that 'there were some things I didn't need to know' and that was it.” God, the kid did a great imitation of his mother's voice. It was actually a bit unsettling, and I don't think he did it on purpose.
“I'm sorry, Jo- uh, Matthew. You probably wouldn't want me to be your first 'dad', even if it is just for a little while. I could maybe be an Uncle Frank instead.” He remained quiet for a long time, and it seemed best to allow him the quiet. It put a bit more control of the conversation in his hands, I guess, me waiting on his response.
“No, I think I'd like to have you as my dad.”
Oh, that little shit blind-sided me. That was not supposed to happen. How in the world did he do it? Spiked right in the heart, with eleven words, and now I can’t see through these suddenly full eyes. I knew my hopes of not having a broken heart were completely dashed, lost to this quiet sad little soul next to me.
“I think I'd like that too, little man,” I choked out. He looked at me then. Sort of a sad look, but it held a smile in it too. I think it was the first time he showed that sweet smile since we left his mother's car behind. God, I lived for that look. It warmed my heart and left me wanting for more. Little shit.
I made a quick detour off the highway when I saw the shopping center coming up. I don't have a lot of experience with a computer, having spent too many of my formative years behind bars, but access to my email and perhaps some of the people I talked to on line over the past years seemed a good idea. Matt, like any kid, lit up a bit when we pulled into the computer store. The world may come to an end, rain frogs and burning cinders down upon our head, but throw a bit of gadgetry in the mix and you will see a smile on a boy's face – no matter the age.
“Why are we stopping here?”, Matt asked as he sat forward looking hopefully at the big blue sign.
“Well, I thought that we could use a computer to stay in touch with what is going on,” I said watching a smile build on that formerly drawn face before me.
“Cool! Can we get some games, too?” It was amazing to see him sitting up straight, bouncing expectantly as he stared out at the store windows. Unbelievably, after his experiences over the last days, he was alert and excited, making me smile at the little boy I once watched playing in his front yard not so long ago. Oh, it made my heart sing to see his smile, to see those eyes shine. I would have bought the entire store out for him at that moment.
“I guess so, Matt. I really don't know much about the darn things. I don't want to overload the machine or burn out the battery playing Pac-Man or something.”
“Pac-Man?” he asked, looking at me like I just said the dumbest thing. I could only shrug. Yep, I said that.
“Don't worry, Dad. I'm a wiz. I'll show you what we need,” he grinned at me as he leapt from the seat.
Yeah, this one is all boy, and he sure did seem to know his toys. We got, according to the salesman, a really good system – and not the one he was pushing me to buy from him either. We also bought extra batteries and an adapter for the truck. Matt picked out a few games and a controller. I balked a bit when the bill totaled up to over $1500, but Matt just looked up at me with his shining eyes and said “Dad, I really want it.” Yep, I'm screwed. Ah well, what the hell, it isn't my money anyway.
Rather than risk another motel that night we slept in the truck. Our dinner was burgers grilled on our new grill, chips from the gas station, and a bottle of water. The truck bed was a bit less comfortable than I would have hoped to sleep in, but not worse than, oh, a pack of pit bulls gnawing at my back for six hours. I was glad to be under the cap rather than in the tent when the rainstorm started. Josh seemed to enjoy peeing out the back window/tail gate, and we shared the sleeping bag. I only bought the one, a double, and it was only as we were getting in that I realized I didn't know if he had problems peeing the bed at night. I think he was quite offended at the impertinence of my question, but it did seem a good question for me to ask. As a result, he began the night as far from me as he could, but it was only moments until he was snuggled right into me again and I couldn't care if he peed the bed or not.
I came from my sleep in the morning to the sound of light rain hitting the fiberglass roof and water dripping off the truck, with a very peaceful warm presence on my chest. I opened my eyes to the early light of dawn and the bright blue eyes of Matt staring down at me from about four inches. So, ok, I'll admit it. I screamed like a girl. I'm confident enough in my manhood to ... oh, shut up.
“Damn, kid! Wow! So, uh, what's up, Matty?” My heart was coming back to normal, check the pulse... yep. Matty just smirked a bit, then got serious again.
“What is it, Matty?” I asked, getting a bit concerned. “Matty?”
“Mr. Baxter, are you sorry you ever met me?” He continued to search my eyes.
“God, kid, no! Why would you ever think that? Yeah, I can't help but to wish that we never came together because I can't help but wonder if things had developed differently. Maybe your mom would be dragging you out here into the woods rather than me. But, no, I don't regret a moment of our time together otherwise. Why do you ask?” He just looked at me, silent, weighing – me, my words, his words, the situation? Got me, but I could see in his eyes the calculations and I really hoped I came in well. To be honest, it really was an unnerving experience to be studied like that.
“Mr. Baxter, do you love me?” Dang, this kid goes in for the deep questions. How do I answer that? How do I tell the kid that hell no I don't love him. I just met him and no sooner did we exchange more than a hello my world falls apart. Now, here I am, running for my life trying to keep him alive in the process. And, why? What do I owe him or anyone for that matter? Come to ask the question, why in the hell am I going through all of this? I mean, it's not like he's ... oh, crap. Damn, this kid is smart. I just now realized I do know why I'm going through all this.
“Yeah, I do kid, I do. You have managed to break a hole in the wall I had around my heart, and somehow, I do love you. Now, you have to quit calling me 'Mr. Baxter'. Bare minimum, we are on a first name basis by now. You need to call me Frank, or Uncle Frank, or even Aloysius Infractitus, ok?”
“Ok,” he said, burrowing back into my ribs and cuddling like only little kids and puppies seem able, “Dad.” Damn. Little shit got me again.
That day lightning struck my sluggish mind. There, on the side of the road, shining from the night's rain and the morning sunshine beckoned a garage sale sign. Wow! Of course, what was I thinking? In the course of the day, we bought enough clothes for Matt to last a year – all showing wear but in good shape. I even found some for me. If you want something to look out of place, put new clothes on a kid going camping. Rural camouflage 101 at your local survival course would have listed that as ‘dumber than hell’. Well, this wasn't something I had much time to plan for, give me a break. Once getting the garage sale bug, we found it rather enjoyable finding all of our needs laid out before us. One place had a shovel, axe, and some other tools that seemed a good idea. But my pride and joy was found in an out of the way place that nearly had us on two wheels when Matt screamed STOP! Needless to say, I had a talk with him about that later, but I gave him credit when we pushed the mattress he found into the back of the truck. Oh! Heaven! Ok, somewhat lumpy heaven, but beggars can't be choosy about what constitutes heaven. I was looking forward to a pit-bull free sleep tonight!
Later, eating at a MickyD's that boasted free Wi-Fi, I was able to get in touch with a friend from the chat rooms. He promised to bounce a letter to the police to outline what had happened and my own fears. I did mention my fear of going back to prison, but foremost on my list of concerns was surviving all of this and making sure Matty (Josh) would be protected. My friend copied the letter and sent it off to another of his contacts with an explanation of what was going on and to be sure to copy paste the letter and send it off to another person, etc. He later told me how that little letter got bounced around the world and back through a dozen cut outs and re-sendings. He was able to set up a meet with our hometown police, something for which I wasn't quite ready. I told him I would have to think on that. I was still concerned about what Lisa had told me, as well as what Paco indicated when he told me not to call the police. In the end, Matt and I were concerned that we simply couldn't run forever. The best thing would be to control the meeting place and hope for the best.
We turned the truck around and headed to a sporting goods store. I knew I couldn't buy a gun, or even ammo for Lisa's, but I did buy a spotting scope on a tripod. That's like a mini telescope usually used for long distance shooting and range finding. Plan together, I headed back for home. I got my friend to send out agreement to a meeting with the police and specified a place I knew would give me opportunity to watch over the area and see how things developed. In the hills, with the truck under a tree and me and Josh on our bellies in the tall grass, I watched 3 cars pull in, followed 20-minutes later by what was obviously a detective's 'unmarked' car and a marked police car. Leaning out the driver's window of one of the first three cars I could make out a familiar face. Sure enough, it was a very pale Paco. I gave Matt the scope and showed him how to shield the lens from reflection. I knew by his shaking that he saw the same people I saw. His worried look back at me told the rest of the story. Matty knew we were on the run now, no turning back.
“Come on, Matt. We're going to Montana,” I whispered softly in his ear. An ear that perhaps would never again hear him called by the name his mother whispered into his ear at his birth.
“Ok, Dad,” he said back to me. I saw a new strength in his eyes. A new life began for him that day. His mom was gone. His home was gone. His friends, his toys, his life were all gone. But, somehow, he was going to be ok. I wish I had as much confidence.
TBC