We were riding along the darker edge of the night.  About 3
people in an old Ford pick-up. Chasing youth and glory
chased by broken friendships and wasted words. We used to
spend our entire lives throwing injustice in the face of the
unjust, like cream pies. Oh my, we loved that so much. Look
at us, the 'new-and-improved', we proved out to be bigger
hypocrites. We sent our mothers to bed without "thank you",
sent our comrades to wars of redundancy.
That past world of tall buildings and taller lies is gone.
It's fleeing us as fast as we are fleeing it. The great
fabric of convenience and mis-truths weaved and forgotten
like this dirty blanket. There wasn't enough room inside the
car. They lay me to rest, properly covered against wind and
rain and conscience - out back.
The roads wriggle like snakes. Yellow lines stick, white
lines flicker. So far from the city, I'm like a fetus
disconnected from the cord. That wonderful tube that once
carried food and light and warmth and blood. Its emptiness
now brings forth only shivers.
The moon rises high and tides of panic wash over. I blink
too much, I think. Have I slept? Damn it! A week could have
passed, seven suns gone unnoticed. How far is it? I turn to
them with my whispering question. Is the radio on? I manage
only to cover the glass with my breath. Are those still my
words sticking to the cold glass and fading? Are those still
my intentions?
We are on the run, and I forgot who's after us. My leg may
be bleeding; it's been numb for hours. But I must be alert.
Awake to face what evils may arise around the bends. What
dirty memories may stick up their ugly heads. My past is no
more than a pile of these now.
I had a lovely childhood, and a lovely childhood's end. And
these are the unpredictable consequences. What, what brought
us to this madman's run? Escape is climbing up my spine,
sending frozen fingers sharp into my lungs.
I'm drifting further into realms of frost and frailty. The
night is deeper now, it seems to me. But I am just a little
frightened mouse tied to a speeding car.
He tucked me in. He has strong arms and knows what to do. He
knew we should run. It was his Pick-up. His plan. Such a
bullet proof leader. He warned us it might come to this.
Such a blow would not go unpunished. We were toys in this;
wind up toys set for the greater good. What a sickening
term, a greater good. A breeding ground for lesser evils.
Are we slowing down? I call again, I try to ask, I think
they heard this time. The car stopped, and with it so did my
thoughts. The trees echoed our silence. They came. Young and
beautiful. Came to check on me. "Are you Okay?" A voice
comes from above, so high, almost angelic. A hand reached
down to me, touched my head. So soft and human. Grateful, I
tried to smile. All my words gone from my tongue. "He's
burning up..." That was her voice. We hardly knew anything
about her. She used to work at some restaurant. One day she
came crying to my door. Never told us her name. She knew
just like we did. Our tears all tell the same story. That
night she slept on the couch. We had this old orange couch
in the living room. Her arms were crossed across her chest.
We couldn't sleep. We stayed up watching her turning and
moaning. Her pale ankles sticking out of her black skirt.
She kept talking in her sleep. Something about a little
girl.
Seeing our red eyes in the morning she knew we heard her.
She left without an explanation. Said she would meet us that
night. My hands tremble with anticipation. Then she vanished
to the silence of the street at dawn.

This night will never end. My muscles scream under this
brown blanket. My eyes begin to burn.
We saw her again at eight. Her expression frozen, her look
set on destruction. He took her hand, slipping her a piece
of paper. Our battle cry was a sad look in her eyes.

Afterwards all I could think about was running. I limped,
that strange white building casting its shadow on me. The
Ford was parked nearby. There were so many of them, so many
crying out in outrage. After a while they even stopped
chasing us. As if the were admitting to themselves that our
cause was right, they just stood there straightening their
uniform. A bland look in their eyes took over.
They were drained of all pursuit. Some sat down on the
grass, resting. We were on our way.

"I don't like this." Her voice came again, gentle waves from
the sky. I opened my eyes and those blank men disappeared.
Maybe they were all a dream. "Hush, now" Maybe this is just
a pleasant trip, we will have a picnic on some grassy hill.
The sunlight will be caressing us, never exposing again.
"Just wait until we reach the border"
Doors slammed again and another dream started. I was sitting
up now, every part of my body craving rest. I was surrounded
by four small grey walls, the night sky still came through
the ceiling and a road was winding on beyond that open door.
Asphalt repeating itself, yellow lines staying, white lines
skip. A man came to sit before me. He had nicely pressed
green clothes. His face showed misunderstanding and
contempt. He was mumbling something about making it easier
for me. About my friend being hurt. "De gir she tok a
booley" I hardly made out any of the words, he was using my
language but I could not decipher anything through his harsh
and confident voice.
He came closer, examining me. Perhaps he saw right through
me. Right into me. My duty to silence would be wasted here.
His eyes came drilling again. I think that was blood on his
teeth, then he left.
Slamming the door again. A rush of cold wind struck me.
Something lay on the road behind us. In it's stillness it
rapidly shrinking. An animal. That's what I thought at
first. Then two bright dots of light lit up on the shape.
Eyes, I alarmed. I checked quickly to my left and right but
no one was there to hear. When I looked back at the road it
was gone.

I don't like this, the stars look heavier. The sky might be
closing in on us.

Just as I reached the peak of my loneliness, that man came
again. Dragging with him his superior. They gave me the
drill looks again, and I caved. The older man took out a
little handbook and started writing down what I said. I
think I noticed him misspelling, or was he just writing on
the wrong side of the page.
I told them everything I could remember and still they
weren't satisfied. Still the hungry eyes and empty stomachs.
They were screaming at each other, then at me, then at each
other again. The road started moving faster, the room
started humming. I could see the stars reflected in their
eyes. Still no dawn.
Now the older man leaned towards me, his face seemed
distorted, as if through a crooked lens. He started
laughing. Could the younger one have told a joke behind my
back?
He opened his mouth finally; his teeth were spinning in his
gums. His words were hot and unpleasant. They hit me like
slabs of wet stone. At first I didn't understand. But I felt
like I had no choice. I swallowed those words, and one by
one they started making sense.
"He ... Still ... Thinks ... They're ... " the younger man
looked at him strangely.
"... Running"

My eyes flashed open, I let out a howl. The moon replies
with a downpour of light.
I am back to the rattling safety of the road. My forehead is
still warm from the touch of her hand. Her words trickle
down to my ears - "He's burning up". Fire. I look around me
but all is cold. Such trickery in her words, such honest
witchcraft in her touch. I am sick, she meant. More words
squeeze through, my thirsty mind absorbs them. I can hear
them through the glass divider. They stopped worrying.
All their words taste sweet now, his are apple pie, hers are
Cranberry. So many different words but they all meant
"Soon". "Soon" as in 'just wait until we reach the border'.
Something terribly wrong was boiling inside me.
"Where is she?" He shook me and screamed. The old man. "We
know she was with you!" I tried to raise my head but it just
fell back again. A little more back then I was prepared for.


I was staring at the moon again. Trains were crashing in my
head. Alarms were ringing. I turned again to the two inside
the car, tapping with my head on the glass. Those men were
waiting at the border. Those men with their strange words
and drilling eyes. Somehow I have to tell them to turn the
car around. I kept tapping my head on the glass. No sound
was being made. Was I really moving?
Am I not too late?
"Restrain him, he's convulsing again" Was that the moon?
Those weird eyes on the road? "His head, Tie his head down"
I looked at them staring up ahead through the glass, wishing
I had those drilling eyes. It was colder now. The road had
shifted. Wicked laughter came from up ahead around the bend.
I tried to tighten the blanket around me, my fingers feeble
and numb.
Maybe she was right, maybe I am just sick. Maybe I should
try to sleep. Things will be fine, just wait until we reach
the border.