The Feet of God

95 – GETTIN’ CLOSER

Me ‘n Charlie sat like two stone lawn ornaments while the lawman drove away.  Tiberius lingered outside on the porch.  Next thing I knew, Charlie stood up and slowly made his way out the screen door to stand behind the hulking Tiberius.  Words was exchanged between the two in low tones I couldn’t quite hear.  Then they both walked over to the parked van.  Charlie opened the back door and pulled out some clothes, tools, odds ’n ends, and piled ‘em off to the side.  While they was busy I refilled my bowl, and engorged on as much gumbo as my craw could stand.  No telling when I’d be enjoying the next supper with free seconds.

I watched out the window as Tiberius and Charlie rolled that van over to a low mud embankment and gave it a final shove, where it soundlessly slipped down into the purest blackest water you ever saw, under a near-full moon, without hardly a trace.

Both men returned to the shack just as I drained a last bowl of gumbo.  Charlie spoke first, “Me ’n Tiberius are gonna head out to a fishing shed he’s got down the swamp a couple’a miles.”

I took this as my cue to get lost.  Fine by me.  I bore no hard feelings toward Charlie, since he never mistreated me during my captivity and forced labor.  I was ready to hit the road again.

I put the empty bowl in the sink.  “Thanks.”  I rubbed my hands on my pants.  “So, I guess it’s about time for me to be moving on,” I smiled.  “You make damn good gumbo, Mr. Tiberius, yes siree.  Wish I could afford to pay you for it.”

Tiberius grinned, “I can afford the company.”

“Then I sure appreciate your generous hospitality,” I smiled back in ingratiation.  “Say, do you know which way is Florida from here?”

Tiberius turned and pointed out the door.  “Climb up to the paved road, head right.  You will get there.  But we head’n out now, so this restaurant is closed.”

The three of us exited Tiberius’ eatery, and I noticed he didn’t even bother to lock up the place after we left.  I stopped for a moment and stood to the side, watching Tiberius and Charlie make their way toward the end of the wooden pier.  They climbed aboard the raft that was tied up there, and noiselessly slipped off under the spreading darkness of vine-tangled trees covered in moss.

I headed up to the road to resume my trip.  Wasn’t much of a road, actually, and not terribly wide.  Noticed the looks of dead things along the side.  (Or maybe my tired ol’ eyes was seeing things in the darkness?)  A possum here and a raccoon there, the whole rotted carcass of a deer down by the water.  Thank God no live cougars or bears.

I walked for about an hour without seein’ a single solitary soul, and then behind me I heard an engine fast approaching.  I took my place at the side of the road, facing the direction of the sound, my thumb already extended anticipating a ride.  Finally, into view came a speeding SUV blast’n music, and I could hear people hootin’ and hollerin’ like all get out.  Only these wasn’t no people, these was acned-scarred teenagers.  Damn.

They whizzed past me while I ducked a barrage of flyin’ beer cans and bottles.  Their music faded as they tore ‘round the road’s bend just ahead.  I checked if any of them potentially lethal projectiles had some unused and perfectly good beverage inside.  But Lady Luck did not smile upon me.  Stupid fucking rich kids.

I figured it was getting on midnight, and I wasn’t sure if I should just call it a day or keep on moving.  The weather was thankfully calm and even warm, moist and humid.  At least, it wasn’t lashing out at me with torrential rains or ice storms.  But I had a nasty blister on my right big toe, so I decided to sit down for a moment in a spot far removed from noxious swamp vapors.

I yawned and I stretched as I looked around after removing the offending shoe and massaging my foot.  From what I could see this part of the world looked pretty, wherever the hell it was.  Maybe Little Billy was right when his visionary image pointed me in this direction on my cross-country journey.  Florida.  I drifted off thinking…yeah, that’s the ticket.

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