On the Run, M Zeigler [you can read anyone txt] 📗

 “I’ve been drinking and you need sleep.” Barrette makes an effort to argue with me over leaving, at this point he can argue until he’s a blue grass jazz player, we are not staying anywhere near Los Angeles. “I’ll be fine, get in the car.” I say as more of a suggestion than an order, he shakes his head in defeat as he opens the car door and slides in.  I do feel bad for drinking a beer and then driving, I've had family killed in drunk driving accidents.

“What’s wrong?” Barrette asks when he looks up at me for a brief second. “Just, don’t ask. If you ask I will tell you and if I tell you you’ll be dealing with an emotional disaster.” I reply as I start the car, Barrette looks at me confusedly. I wish that men could understand how a woman’s brain works, half the time when you think we are just randomly picking topics we aren’t. It’s the chain thought effect. You need to get glue to stop the windshield from leaking at the edges, windows get dirty, we are out of window cleaner. That single comment you make can literally make or break the entire shopping list, or anything else that is brought up.

“Where are we going?” Barrette inquires now, sounding sober again I know that he isn’t he’s just alert after that fight, I guess nearly beating a guy to death is really a sobering task.

“When you’re done cleaning up open up the black box, find the map and pick a random circled location.” I reply to Barrette as he pitches the rag out the window, as I’m driving down the unpaved road towards the main road I try to push Adrienne’s image out of my head before I break down into tears. Something I typically wouldn’t suggest he do, but I don’t want blood all over the upholstery.

“How did you get the black box back?” Barrette asks he reaches to my back pack to retrieve the mentioned box. “I may or may not have broken into your tour bus earlier tonight, by the way you should really invest in a better alarm system.” I offer taking full advantage of an easy distraction, Barrette shakes his head at my comment as I’m driving out onto the desolate main road that leads back to the freeway.

After a minute of clattering around in the back seat he corrects his position in the passenger’s seat and finds the map inside the black aluminum box. Barrette really doesn’t seem surprised I broke into his tour bus so he doesn’t comment enough to remind me of breaking and entering being against the law. I’m certain he understands by now that I’m not opposed to breaking the law and bending the rules.

After a few seconds of arguing with my grandfathers old nicotine soaked map to unfold properly, Barrette begins to review the circled locations and points to Nevada. This is an excellent choice since we are heading in the right direction to be going to Nevada.

I also know exactly why the location is circled and why Barrette chose there as our next stop, first and foremost important the circled space isn’t the desert part of Nevada. No, quite the opposite, this is the Sierra Nevada’s which is, I’m guessing why Barrette chose to go there. He is a country boy who was raised in the sticks. Between my knowledge of the outdoors and his we should be able to survive living at my grandfather’s isolated cabin for a few days if not a week, just long enough for both of us to recover from our injuries.

“We are going to Nevada.” Barrette says then reaches up to the headliner light to turn it on. I glance over at the map for a moment to be sure I know for sure which roads I need to take to get to the cabin. Barrette gives me a quizzical look before asking a question. “Why are we going to a random location on a tobacco stained map?” He inquires. “My grandfather said that when the chase starts those locations would have the rest of what I needed to win the fight. My family has known this day would come for a long time, of course none of us ever assumed I’d have a renegade superstar riding shot gun with me.” I say to Barrette who remains silent but does show understanding in his expression. “Alright old man, were going to the Sierra Nevada’s.” I sigh as I guide the car to the freeway on ramp eagerly imaging myself lounging inside the cabin.

My grandfather’s cabin is only a one room place but it is definitely someplace worth visiting once in a while. He has the whole place set up to look like an old gold miners cabin, entering the cabin there is a bed that sits on the far wall directly in the center with wooden milk crates on either side standing on the end acting as night stands.

To the left of the bed pressed against the wall is a tiny desk, sitting to the left of the desk is a tiny room with a short doorway leading into a bathroom, all that is within the bathroom is a claw foot bathtub and a mirror that hangs on the wall between the door way and the tub.

Still standing inside the front door and looking right your sights will land on a circular table which is basically a dining room table. Yes the place has a kitchen, the kitchen takes up the entire right side of the cabin, all that the kitchen consists of is a little two burner wood burning stove. A tiny sink basin that sets into a wooden counter top. To the right of the sink is a tiny four tier shelf that two plates set on, the only other items on that shelf are food seasonings that I’d like to imagine are very outdated by now.

Outside the cabin in the want to be front yard is a washing pit that you can use for just about anything but its primary purpose to wash clothing in. Not far from the washing basin is a stone built bonfire pit that has been used many times by my grandfather who used to come out here and go hunting and clean his fresh kill before barbequing it over the open fire.

“Barrette you should sleep for a while. It’s going to be a long drive.” I inform Barrette who doesn’t answer, looking over I see that Barrette is already asleep. Nice; finally I have a passenger that I don’t have to argue with over sleeping so that I can drive in peace and quiet for a short time.

Allowing my mind to float back to the cabin I remember going there once or twice as a baby and catching fish out in the pond. No one really knows how the fish ended up in the pond but something tells me that my grandfather may have had the pond stocked with fish at some point so that he could do some fishing there without the disturbance of other people making noise all around him.

I also used to climb the trees and catch frogs down in the tall grass that grows around the river; another favorite pass time out at the lake was picking wild black berries. Of course my father used to be very fearful of me doing that because he thought I would fall into the bushes and become seriously hurt by the spiked branches. Thinking back I remember how my grandmother used to take the black berries and make black berry pies that no one could ever resist eating. We even had a bear wander into camp the second time we were out there, that’s why we have a bear skin rug on the floor in the cabin close to the tiny fire place that is in the corner of the room beside the dining room table.

I have so many memories of the Sierra Nevada’s outside of just that Cabin, Jack brought me out here a couple of times during the four years I lived with him. Once when I graduated my Tai Jitsu class with a black belt, or Master’s degree as my ditzy aunt called it. The first trip out here I was ready to strangle Jack Homer Simpson style, he had played a George strait CD eighty five times from start to finish from the moment we left the house to the moment we made it to Tahoe Lake. Now don’t get me wrong I love George Straits music but it will be a long time before I ever listen to his greatest hits CD again.

After I finally convinced Jack that we’d heard the CD a few too many times he proceeds to wear out a Slayer CD until I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. When he walked down to the Lake to take pictures I took both of the CD’s and hid them under my seat up in the cushion stuffing. My dad ransacked that car for an hour looking for those CD’s before he decided we must have lost them when we stopped at the gas station fifteen minutes back. Boy was I ever grateful for his short term memory that day! If he had of retained a strong memory he would have realized that both disks were in the car when he walked away.

A smile plays on my face knowing that I’m about to return to the Sierra Nevada’s and hopefully make somewhat good memories there. I can’t say the situation would be entirely good because of the reason why we are heading there, nothing good ever comes of a deranged lunatic chasing after you.

On the run chapter 3

"Bonnie understands"

“Bonnie?” I hear Barrette rumble from the passenger’s seat of the Mustang, he’s just barely awake enough to comprehend that I should be nearby. I let him sleep the entire nine hour drive to Nevada, mostly because I know the man needs sleep, he spends months of the year on the road hardly sleeping at all and now he’s dealing with someone trying to kill him, I’d say that really earns a good sound sleep. Also, I’m so used to staying awake for days on end and then sleeping for a couple days, I’m not fazed at all by lack of sleep.

Then add the fact I had nine hours of silence which gave me ample time to think, and ponder over why my grandfather has marked out all of these locations for me. There has to be a reason, I mean he wouldn’t just send me nine hours out of my way simply for a hide out, I have many other hideouts closer to home that are just as safe. The only thing that I can think of is that gramps did something at the cabin, or left something behind for me to find when the time came for me to stop Devon.

The only question that remains is, what else could the old man possibly have felt need