Pitstop
A Short, Short Story By Lo Brewer
Snowy Mountains Highway, New South Wales © MDRX/Wikipedia Commons
Note: This story was entered in Writer’s Weekly’s Winter 24-Hour Contest, where writers are given a topic, lead-in paragraph and 24 hours to write a story under 875 words. It was recognized with a non-monetary prize.
Even with the heater on high, and completely decked out in winterwear, he was shaking from the cold. His shoulders tensed as he peered over the steering wheel, dodging black ice and snow banks. He knew he'd picked the wrong time of year for this trip. When he’d pulled out of Grand Junction that morning, it’d been bitter cold and the road ominously dark. But it was too late to change his plans now.
His mind briefly wandered as he fantasized about his destination. If he could just fight the nagging urge to turn around he’d soon be far away from the cold, dreariness, and dread he was trying to leave behind.
He instinctively started to fidget with his pendant. He’d worn the St. Nicholas necklace since the day his mother gave it to him, just days before she died. She told him St. Nicholas is the patron saint of children and would always protect him. During the years following her death he’d called on St. Nick many times. And whenever he was nervous, simply clutching the pendant helped to relax him. Now as he ventured off into the world, barely a man at 17-years-old, Robert was more nervous than ever. He’d contemplated going back home numerous times since he pulled away from his father’s fam. But with the weather being what it was, it was too late to turn back now. Or was it?
As he quickly rounded a curve, he was instantly pulled out of his reverie. A small, shivering boy was sitting alone by the side of the road. The sight of the child startled Robert and he swerved sending him skidding into a snowbank. Just ahead the boy stood staring at him, seemingly unmoved by the accident.
Robert jumped out of his car to assess the damage. There didn’t seem to be any damage to the front of the car. But it’d stalled out. The boy walked over to Robert as he opened the hood of the car.
“Hi Mister. You should be careful. It’s snowing awful hard out here.”
“Gee thanks kid. I’ll remember that. Had I not seen you standing out here, I probably wouldn’t have run up on this bank in the first place. Say, what are you doing out here anyways? It’s freezing.”
“I’m leavin’ obviously.”
“Looks like you’re going nowhere fast. You don’t even have a coat on. Get in the car. We’ll try to keep warm while we wait for help,” Robert said, closing the hood, knowing he hadn’t a clue how to get the wagon started again.
Once in the car the boy who’d revealed his name was Junior, said he was on his way to California.
“My old man is a drunk. He spends more time with his gin than with me. And I’m down right sick of it. So, I’m leavin’,” he said plainly.
“I get it kid,” Robert said. “I mean, I can sympathize. After my mom passed, my dad started drinkin’ more. The farm woulda went to shit if I didn’t work my ass off to get it in shape. Can you imagine that? Me, ten years old, working a tractor. Anyways, I suppose he was just sad. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to leave like you. But I had to bide my time. Prep, ya know? You gotta think things like this out kid.”
“Sad…sorry excuse for a parent…just plain evil, don’t make no difference to me. When I’d had just enough of it, I walked on out the door. For all your preppin’ you’re in the same boat as me, and took a lot more years of dealin’ with a drunk daddy to get you here.”
“You might be right kid. Probably should have left years ago. Funny thing is, just before I picked you up I was thinking ‘bout going back. I guess I feel kinda bad about leaving him all alone.”
“The way I figure, he don’t need me and I don’t need him. I don’t need anything ‘cept old St. Nick to guide me to California,” Junior said playing with the St. Nicholas pendant he wore.
Robert looked at the kid intently. He noticed for the first time the same sandy curls on Junior’s head that he’d had as a boy. The pendant Junior was rubbing furiously was identical to Robert’s own.
“What’s your name again kid?”
“I told you Mister. It’s Junior…that’s what the old man calls me anyway. But you can call me Bobby if you want,” the kid said.
“It can’t be. You can’t be…,” Robert started.
“Hey why don’t you try starting the car again?” Bobby said.
Robert looked away and turned the key and the old wagon started right up. He looked back at the passenger seat that was now empty.
Even though he’d thought about going back home a thousand times before the crash, that idea never entered his mind again. Before pulling out onto the road, he looked at his map. If he only stopped for gas he’d be in Los Angeles by nightfall. Since he was a kid he’d always dreamed of running away to California. Now he had just the push he needed to finally get him there.
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