Lucky Springs, Kansas would have been a nice place to live. It was an ok place to visit, or so it seemed, but under the current circumstances, anything that was not certain death was ok. And so for that reason, I had to keep moving.

Maybe that's over-stating it a bit but like I told Jack in the graveyard, why wait around to find out?

There are a lot of small towns and alot of big cities across the USA. The interesting thing about the big cities is that most of them are just a lot of small towns densely compressed. That is, if you know all two thousand people in your small town, that's about the same as knowing all two thousand people that are from your block or your neighbourhood.

What it means is, strangers stick out no matter where you go. Unless you go somewhere with a lot of strangers. Those desitination cities that constantly have people flowing in and out of them are easier to get lost in the crowd in. That is, providing that you don't stay too long. Stay for too long, and you stand out again.

My immediate need was to blend in for a short time, so even if I ended up passing through Vegas, Reno, Nashville, Memphis, and various neighbourhoods in New York and LA, then it would buy me time until I had a good plan. New York and LA seemed risky because I didn't really know them well enough to stay out of trouble. Since I was starting from Kansas, I headed East toward Branson, Missouri.

This time of year wasn't too bad for hitch-hiking here. It wasn't too hot out, so I could walk if I needed to. It turned out I didn't need to walk too far.

"You want a lift?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm going to Branson all right, and when I get there you can help me unload this lumber."

I took a look and it seemed like a pretty easy job. It was a one ton flat deck with a good sized load on it.

"That's a deal."

I climbed into the passenger seat and introduced myself, holding out my hand. "Jackson."

"Jackson? I'm going to Branson! Can't you listen?"

"No, I mean my name. I'm Jackson."

The old man looked at me with a perturbed scowl, as if I had done him some harm. He cracked a smile grudgingly and said "My name's Travis. We'll be in Branson in a couple hours."

We drove on, propelled by the crackling sound of an AM radio. Travis seemed oblivious to the idea that the sound quality was terrible. AM radio sounds a lot better on any other system than this one. I didn't ask, but I was fairly sure this radio had never explored the FM band despite its capabilities. Every time Hank Sr. came on, Travis turned up the volume just a little bit.

I tried closing my eyes a couple of times but they were blasted open by the rush of problems coming at me, as if that windshield were the visor into what I needed to know. What I needed to know in order to overcome what was chasing me. None of it made any sense. I wanted to look over my shoulder again, but every time I did, all I saw was lumber, and the wary eye of Travis noticing. Travis noticed me looking over my shoulder like a shifty drifter that's not to be trusted.

I tried looking blankly out through the windshield for as long as I could. Whenever I would close my eyes, I would be arrested by Travis' accusatory conversation style.

"What are you going to do when you get to Branson?"

"Uh, I've got phone a buddy about his bike. He wants me to deliver it and I've got to find out about that."

"Where?"

"Um, I don't know yet."

"Where are you staying?"

"I need to find a hotel when I get there."

"Where are you going to look?"

"I don't know. I've never been to Branson."

"Be careful. They have some fancy places there and they'll take your money if you let them."

"ok." I wanted to pretend to be asleep again but I knew he wouldn't let me.

Patsy Cline came on the radio and we rode for silence for a while again.

This time I managed to close my eyes for a bit and consider my plans. I knew that I really did need a plan for when I got to Branson. The idea of disappearing in a crowd of tourists was good to start with, but I needed to decide where I was going from here and how I would get there. Laying low as I had been was intriguing at the start but was really starting to get old now. I was pretty sure that Travis was a safe ride, but I was thinking how nice it would be to travel alone and not have to make up stories constantly. Smalltalk is a lot of work when none of it is true.

I decided that in Branson I would make a concerted effort to get a vehicle. I would not be able to register it but if I bought something for cash and negotiated well, I could get to use the plate for a few days, maybe longer. That would be a relatively short term thing though because eventually some highway patrol would make a big deal of it. So the plan would be to get a vehicle and get somewhere else before it was going to matter.

I still had some money, although not a lot. Maybe I would be able to work for something, or buy something cheap that would get me just a little farther down the road.

The truck was moving slowly and we were taking a few curves in the dark before the vehicle came to a complete stop. As I opened my eyes I saw Travis push the transmission into reverse and smirk at me before he looked into the side mirror and started to back up. That smirk was nothing to me, but it was something meant to say "You were sleeping and only weak people sleep in cars." I thought about whether I had really stayed awake or not. My mind had been working hard but I really couldn't account for the past hour. Maybe I really did drift off. I didn't remember it being dark out.

I straightened up in the seat and tried looking in the side mirror closest to me, but to no avail. Travis put the parking brake on and tossed a pair of leather gloves at me. He and I got out and went to unload.

I have no idea how long it took us but it probably wasn't long. No talking, just stacking two-by-fours. I took off the gloves and laid them on the deck of the truck while I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Travis picked up the gloves as he walked toward the driver's door. "You good from here?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the lift."

"No thanks required, you paid your way."

Travis got in and drove off.

There was a night guard standing waiting for me to leave and so I did. I walked out of the yard into the alley and the guard closed a gate behind me.

I was in a sort of industrial area, but it was building up. Hence the need for lumber I suppose. Across the road I saw a motel so I headed that way. This was a freeway of sorts, so the hotel was about a half mile walk. The night air was cooling. It had been fifteen or twenty degrees hotter during the day, making it feel almost winter now by comparison, but it was still a nice night.

When I got to the hotel I noticed a small used car lot not far away, so I decided I would go check that out in the morning.

The motel was not nearly as charming as Jack and Rubie's place. There was a young woman working behind the desk, whom I interrupted from some serious texting conversation by the look of it. She greeted me with half a sentence, and waited for me to tell her to let me a room. I paid cash in advance and advised her that I would be checking out early. She seemed fairly indifferent to that fact since she would be gone by then.

It seemed like a great burden to the clerk to fill out the forms and an even greater burden to get the key-card set for me. I lost count of the number of hateful sighs and hisses she released at the computer while registering me. I stared at the corner of the cuff of her white sleeve, showing a browned white colour by comparison to its single button. The uniform she wore had been worn a thousand times, and I wondered if she were even old enough to have worked that many shifts. The blue polyester vest was impervious to wrinkle or permanent stain, yet it had no way left in it to look fresh.

If this generic chain-motel uniform had any redemption left for it, it wasn't here. Not in this place.

*******

The sun came up and I had an early coffee in the lobby and a generic sort of breakfast. I saw a much more engaged day staff at the hotel desk, and wished them a good day on my way out.

The car dealership wasn't very special, wasn't thriving, and wasn't going to disappear any time soon. I talked to a man named Cal, who offered to sell me a well driven F-150. I didn't have the means to buy anything. I was thinking about how much I was going to have to earn in order to make a downpayment on anything on the lot when the phone rang. Cal, through his four-day beard framed with a Ford-Tough baseball cap, which seemed to come with a fringe of unkempt hair attached all the way around it, excused himself in that gracious Southern way.

I was doing mental math while trying not to overhear the conversation more than I needed to. "Ya... Sure can... Well... I dunno, it's Thursday... Waalll... lemme see... Sure... Ah kin call ya back shortly... Ah surely will... ok 'bye now."

Cal had hung up the phone and was staring at the calendar on the wall with a twisted mug and a squinted eye. "Gerald!!" Cal bellowed toward the open shop door.

A reciprocating sound came from the shop. Then Gerald showed up. "What?"

"I need you to drive that Focus to Fayetteville."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"Nope."

"Yep."

"Nope. County fair. I gotta count bingo."

"Gerald--" A puff of air escaped Cal's lips like a punctured tire.

Cal and I made eye contact. Cal and I made a deal. I left for Fayetteville in a 2010 Ford Focus.

******

The destination was another used car lot in Fayetteville. An upscale version of Cal's Used Cars, where the owner shaved every day. I pulled up in front of a big picture window, and went inside and leaned on the front counter. The only person around was on the phone talking loudly, then quietly.

"Ha ha! Yeah, I haven't seen them in years! ...No, I haven't... Uh-huh... Yeah... Oh... Well, yeah that's... Uh, yeah thanks for letting me know... Sure, Rubie was the best. A real saint... Yeah... I know... Ok, well I'll see you soon then, I think I have a customer here... Right."

I had a massive lump in my throat by the time the man came out of his office and out to greet me.

"Hi, what can I help you with today?"

Very professional, considering he just found out about Rubie. I wasn't sure how to bridge the conversation, but I decided it was going to be important.

"Hey, sorry I didn't mean to listen in, but "

"Oh, it's ok. I just got a call from an old friend."

"Yeah, Jack took it hard at first but he's doing ok now. He's got a lot of good people around him."

"You know Jack and Rubie too?"

"Who doesn't?" (This seemed like a safe bet.)

He laughed and nodded melodramatically. "True." He looked out the front window and saw the Focus. "Oh you're my driver from Branson! You're quick."

"Well I had free time and I'm heading east anyway."

"Oh yeah? You wanna go to Memphis?"

Memphis was on my list. "That could be on my way."

"Well. I don't always trust Cal's drivers, but I do trust Jack's friends. I've got a Mustang that needs to go. Can I trust you with it?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, let me write up some papers and I'll get you going. No eating in the car."

In under an hour I was in a nearly-new previously enjoyed shiny yellow Mustang. It was begging me to push its limits but I protested, still not wanting to take any chances and feeling the need to lay low. Things were going unbelievably smoothly at this point and I really wanted it to continue that way.

Driving the next leg was a pleasure and I got to Memphis in way less time than I wanted to. The delivery was to a lot downtown and then I was once again footloose.

I walked around the riverfront since it was still afternoon, looking at the mighty Mississippi and the people who came out to worship it. Among them I constantly thought I saw strangers and memories, and people who I could not believe I would run into here.