Transcontinental (21 page)

The rest of the city was a stark contrast: a handful of vanilla office buildings, their only hint of personality imparted by the mountains in the distance. The temple had stuck out like a pile of fridges in the desert.

It was all he’d been able to think about since they passed through downtown. He’d snubbed Ant’s few attempts at conversation in favor of unfettered observation. It was annoying and kind of weird how often he’d asked about Rehema, and Leroy was starting to suspect Ant was asking for himself rather than the sake of finding her.

The bus deposited riders at various stops until they were the final two riders and the city was behind them, blocking out the setting sun.

“What is the plan, captain?” Ant asked in the seat across from Leroy.

“Can you not call me that?”

“Sure thing, chief.”

He glared at Ant. “Find a store, then sleep somewhere.”

“Somewhere that is not the jungle.”

Sitting up straight, Leroy said “Right,” but doubt loomed large.

The bus came to a squealing standstill, and the driver threw the lever to open the door, then looked up at them in the rear-view mirror. “Arcadia Heights. Last stop,” he grumbled through his mustache.

Ant waited for Leroy to go, then followed him off the bus. They were past Salt Lake City, but Leroy could still see the Temple in the distance, lit up like a castle at Disneyland. He’d never been, of course, but there’d been plenty of commercials to tease him with the image.

“We had better get going,” Ant said. “It may be a long walk.”

Leroy agreed, and they trekked on. The walk was far from long, though; within ten minutes they’d come upon a twenty-four hour superstore. Leroy expected the greeter to confiscate or at least make them check in their bags, but the old man waved and smiled as they passed.

“That’s weird, letting us keep our bags,” Leroy said.
 

Before he’d finished speaking, Ant made a sharp right turn and hoisted his bag onto the customer service counter. He regarded the woman and said “May I keep this here until we finish shopping, please?”

The woman smiled and consented, and Ant urged Leroy to give up his bag, as well. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, though; he didn’t like the idea of some random people thumbing through his things.

“I gotta?” he asked.

“There is no rule that you must, clearly, but I would advise it.”

“Why?”

“If we retain our bags, they have cause to accuse us of shoplifting.”

“Sir,” the woman intervened, “We strive to make your shopping experience the highest priority at this establishment. If you’d like to keep your bags, you go right ahead.” She gave them a firm, friendly nod.

“I appreciate it, I truly do.” Ant turned to Leroy. “Hand it over.”

“She said I could keep it.”

“Do you think it wise to take the risk in your current situation?”

As Ant and the woman stared at him, Leroy realized it was more trouble than it was worth to keep the bag. He swung it onto the counter and relinquished it to the woman, wondering why Ant made it such a big deal.

They strode out toward the warehouse of groceries, then Leroy abruptly turned and ran back to customer service, calling out to the woman, who was headed toward an office in the back. “Hold up, ma’am!”

Startled, she whipped around.

“I gotta see my bag for a second,” Leroy said.

The woman returned, scowling a moment before she corrected it into a smile, and handed him the bag. Leroy pulled out a wad of paper, from which he extracted their cash. “Might need this if we aren’t shoplifting,” he deadpanned. Her stare was blank. “Sorry, that was a joke.”

Leroy pocketed the cash as he jogged back to Ant. “What’s on the list?”

“You tell me.”

“If it’s up to me, we’re leaving with ten pounds of gummy bears.”

“While that sounds toothsome, somehow I fear it inadequate.”

“What about that hobo iceberg? Anything about food in there?”

“True hobos will eat nearly anything, as many of them lived through the depression and probably had to at some point, but they are rare these days. Cracker John is the only one of whom I know. I digress, though,” Ant said as they turned down the first aisle. “Good traveling food is anything cheap, light, or nutritious, but preferably all three.”

Proud of himself for having packed appropriately at the outset of the journey, Leroy nodded. He was smarter than he acknowledged, sometimes.

Ant reached for the most colorful bag of bread on the shelf. “Wonder Bread and peanut butter is my first choice. It is cheap, it provides protein, and a little goes a long way. You see, it turns to paste and sits like a lump in your stomach, taking hours to digest. Very efficient. Well, technically inefficient, I suppose.”

In the next aisle, Ant grabbed a jar of peanut butter.

“I love peanut butter.”

With a sidelong glance, Ant said “I doubt the sanity of those who do not.”

“Get crunchy.”

“You know, the type of peanut butter a man prefers says a lot about him.” Ant switched the two bottles. “Creamy people like it safe, routine, whereas crunchy people are more adventurous, and like to mix things up.”

“So you like crunchy?”

“I enjoy both,” Ant smiled.

Leroy surveyed the shelves, eyeing everything delicious he could, but shouldn’t get. A hundred bucks of Pop-Tarts sounded pretty tempting.

Ant glanced up as a man walked past the end of the aisle.

“What else?” Leroy asked.

“Anything easy to cook via fire, such as canned food or soup.”

“Cans aren’t light,” Leroy said as he grabbed a big bag of trail mix.

“I
can
make an exception when chili is involved. Get it?”

Leroy rolled his eyes, cradling cans in his arms as they stalked the aisles.

“So you can crack a pun but I am prohibited? I protest!” he said, throwing a hand into the air with his pointer finger extended, then became distracted. “Vitamins,” Ant said as he grabbed a bottle, “are essential.”

With that, Leroy was whisked into a memory of Rehema in which the two of them sat eating macaroni from paper bowls at his little table, much too small for her, so her knees poked out to the sides. She had asked if his mom gave him vitamins, and explained how they’d make him strong and healthy. She’d split her own vitamin and given half to him, laughing as he crinkled his face at the bitter taste. Later that night, he’d asked his mom if he could have vitamins so he could grow faster. “What, I ain’t feedin’ you enough?” she’d snapped.

When the effect of the memory wore off, Ant was already headed to the next aisle. Leroy caught up and Ant placed the bottle of vitamins atop his already full arms, then grabbed a gallon of water. “We can reuse this.”

“No way I’m carrying that, too,” Leroy stated.

“I think I can manage.” Ant peered over his shoulder, eyes narrow.

“Anything else? Probably shouldn’t spend too much.”

“I have toilet paper, mouthwash, a lighter, wet wipes, a blanket…” Ant said. “Do you have any extra clothes in your bag?”

“Nope. Should I?”

Ant led him over to the clothing section, to front of a rack of boxers, briefs, and underwear. “Take your pick.”

“Underwear?”

“Hobo or not, one should have clean undergarments.”

“Does underwear say a lot about a person, too?”

“More than you know.”

Ant pulled a pack of white t-shirts off of a rack. Then, Leroy saw something catch Ant’s eye, and his gaze followed.

“What d’you keep looking at?”

“I believe we are being followed.”

“Why would anyone follow us?”

“They likely assume we are going to shoplift, perhaps because of your comment earlier, or because of our color. You cannot joke like that.”

“No way they took that seriously.” Leroy scanned the shelf, completely lacking confidence in what he had just said.

“You would be surprised. The illusion of safety is but a one-way mirror.”

“That third bag from the left.” Leroy shifted the items in his arms and pointed at a pack of briefs, and Ant picked it off the shelf. “Remind me why we didn’t just get a cart?” he said, trying to keep his mind off the fact that he was apparently being watched.

“Who needs a cart when you have a perfectly good teenager?”

They hauled their loot toward the front of the store, where long lines formed at the few open registers amidst the bevy of closed ones.

“Twenty registers, and they got three open.” Leroy sighed and stepped into the line without the screaming baby, without the the two-cart, six-person family, but with an elderly woman in a scooter.

Ant didn’t follow. “We can pay at customer service, where our bags are.”

Almost giddy, Leroy hopped out of line.

“You’re gonna break your back carrying all this stuff.”

“I have been backpacking for a long time. I am inured.”

Leroy piled the items onto the counter and the woman rang them up. Given Ant’s suspicion that they were being monitored, Leroy found it hard to look her in the eye, and she seemed to feel the same.

“Find what you were looking for?” she asked, facing down.

“I might ask you the same,” Ant remarked.

She paused for a split second, and then swiped the last few cans across the scanner. “Your total today is nineteen fifty-six.”

“What do you know?” Ant remarked. “My birthday.”

The woman forced a closed-mouthed smile as Leroy slid her a twenty. She bagged the items up and counted out his change, then struggled to lift Ant’s backpack up to the counter after Leroy’s.

As they gathered their possessions and plodded to the sliding doors, they passed the man that had been following them. Looking at him, burley with a baseball cap and his hands tucked in his jacket pockets, Leroy thought he fit the description of a shoplifter better than they did.

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask,” Ant sassed.

The spy’s eyes widened, but he ignored the bait and walked on.

Outside the store, Leroy set his bag on the ground and unzipped it, using the illumination from the store’s emblem to brighten the twilight. Peering inside, he said “They definitely went through my stuff.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Stuff that was on the bottom’s on top now.”

Ant set his bag down and inspected the contents.

“Mine has been rejiggered as well.”
 

After both of them determined that nothing had been taken, they divvied up the groceries, with Ant taking the majority of the heavier items. Leroy rearranged the items in his bag, putting the cans at the bottom.

“Unbelievable,” Leroy scowled. “Isn’t that illegal, or something?”

“Just be thankful nothing is missing.”

“What gives them the right, though?”

“To be fair, we were on their property, subject to their regulations.”
 

“Just seems wrong. What about privacy?”

“They likely wanted to ensure the safety of their employees and wares.”

“Like they thought we had a gun?”

“Or perhaps a bomb.”

“So paranoid. What kinda psycho would blow up random people?”

“In America we are lucky enough to consider it unthinkable, but elsewhere in the world it is a daily occurrence, a fact of life.”

“But why?”

“The reasons are as numerous as they are complex, ranging from religious fundamentalism, to rogue ideology, to simple hatred.”

The thought of committing an act of destruction like that eluded Leroy’s comprehension. He could find no reason, motive, or emotion in any crevice of his mind that would enable him to do such a thing.

“So just ‘cause somebody
might
do something bad, we’re all on watch?”

“I do not agree with it, but that is their logic, yes.”

As they crossed the parking lot and reached the main road, Ant stopped. “So the next step in the plan is sleep somewhere, I believe.”

It was dark, but Leroy wasn’t tired yet. “Yeah. Let’s start looking.”

They walked in the dirt and grass between the road and the railroad tracks. For the sun having only recently set and their close proximity to a major city, there were very few cars on the road.

“Where is everybody?” Leroy asked.

“Mormons are… creamy peanut butter people,” Ant smirked.

It was the first time in a long time that Leroy had laughed.

* * *

“Wish I could ride the ferris wheel.”

Leroy regretted his thoughtless words instantly as Ant’s face twisted into a grin he recognized—it was the face the Grinch made in the christmas cartoon when he’d gotten his wonderful, awful idea.

“Who says we cannot?” Ant asked, to Leroy’s dismay.

An hour and a few miles outside the city after a particularly dark walk, it was as if civilization had ceased to exist; the suburbs, the streetlights, even the farmland had yielded to jagged, untamed wilderness. Leroy’d been surprised there was a street at all.