Running Out Of Road

An excerpt from the novel
Running Out of Road
by Robert Appleton

Dan Logan stood there for a moment, then stepped off the porch. He looked toward the bedroom window where he and Terri used to sleep, and the curtains fluttered a little. He only saw a brief glimpse, but he knew it was Terri.

* * *

The first pangs of withdrawals hit while it was still dark. Ben Pierce awoke curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Heroin used to let him sleep far beyond noon. Now, his body demanded twice the amount, and the high lasted only half the time.

Needing a bit of air, he went out for a walk. It was a quiet neighborhood that reminded him of home. Thoughts of his family invaded his mind. Flashes of deceit and stealing things his family had worked so hard for made him shudder.

Three days later, Ben was standing by an on ramp leading into Interstate 5. Sticking a thumb out, he grinned at passing cars, thinking each was a motherf*cker for not offering a ride. Reaching into his shirt and touching his sacred sun medallion for luck, he thought of Dan.

Eventually, a rusty old pick up truck jerked over. "Where ya' headed feller?"

Ben looked at the frail cowboy, "San Francisco."

"Well, I can getcha' close. Pull extree' hard on 'er, she'll open."

Two months later, Ben was alone in a dingy motel room. Hurting all over, uncontrollable shakes hit him hard. Sweat poured from him. He desperately tore open a balloon full of heroin and tried to carefully shake it into a spoon. He repeated the process with another balloon; then another. He closed his eyes, trying to regain control. Slowly he drew up water into a syringe, and squirted it into the large spoon. Moving slowly so as not to spill the precious fluid, he positioned the spoon over a burning candle. Aiming the needle carefully, Ben penetrated the skin of his arm.

"F*ck!"

He pulled the needle out and tried again. After several attempts the needle finally hit the mother lode.

Ben gazed at San Francisco through a smudged motel window. The streets slowly began to blur. He leaned over, blowing out the candle. "Happy Birthday," he slurred, closing his eyes, as death reached out and over came him.

* * *

Ben's death frightened Dan. Each time Dan got high, he would see himself being buried beside Ben in some desolate grave. The fear was overwhelming at times. His dreams were becoming more vivid each night. Brilliant colors, like deep red skies and sparkling silver rivers, flowed through his dreams. Then came the nightmares. Locked up in a prison with blood red floors and silver steal bars. Lying there, kicking heroin cold turkey.

Dan realized he had to escape the drug scene.

"Danny, I agree with you," said Daniel Sr. "You do need something positive in your life." After a long pause, Dan's father continued, "Maybe you should join the Air Force, or the Navy. A new situation for yourself. A different environment might be fun."

* * *

For Dan, coming home from the Air Force seemed like walking into a different dimension. Mother was distant and usually drunk. Father had been promoted to National Representative for the American Federation of Government Employees, and decided to make time to edit the Courier, a government newspaper. He was rarely home.

Dan called his ex-inlaws. They said Terri had moved and he should send them a letter which they would give to her. He was furious, thinking they were lying to him. Soon he began stalking their house, hoping to see his son, Jason. After four days of frustration, he realized Terri must no longer live there.

Dan heard from his next door neighbor that Terri and Jason had recently moved into their own little house.

"She must be in some sort of trouble," the neighbor informed. "I drive past there sometimes. . . . Seen cop cars there more than once."

Dan's heart went into overdrive, fearful for his son and Terri. He needed to see Jason! He parked his mother's car a block from where Terri lived, and walked the rest of the way.

He spied a squad car parked in front of Terri's house. "What the f*ck's going on with her?" he muttered.

Approaching the house he heard voices in the back yard and went directly to the six foot fence and peered over. A softball flew high in the air as Dan went up on his tip-toes, instantly recognizing his son. Little Jason had thrown the ball to a uniformed police officer. "Nice catch Daddy!" Jason hollered proudly.

Dan flopped down behind the fence and buried his face in his hands. As his eyes filled with tears, he thought of breaking through the fence and killing the cop with his own gun: Stuff it down his throat and empty the f*ckin' clip!

Dan remain behind the fence, listening. . . .

Terri came out of the house, and this time he had to see her. Peeking through the fence he could almost see her clearly. She was still so beautiful; her blond hair flowing in the breeze. Bending over to hand Jason some potato chips, Dan saw her cleavage. He thought of their love making, and it made him tingle. But with the tingle came a strange anxiety. Time seemed to stop, and he felt helpless and angry.

It was getting late and the sky was darkening. Dan's legs started to cramp. He stood. The thought of stealing his son and running seemed almost possible.

Other cops arrived and made their way out to the patio. Some didn't have on uniforms, but Dan believed they were cops. They took turns lifting up Jason, rolling him on the ground. Telling Terri how pretty she looked and what to do if she got tired of Ron. Oh, that's the bastards name, Ron! His name echoed in Dan's mind. He began shivering like a cold wet collie. Caught in a cloudburst, no where to run.

Tortured, Dan escaped the scene without sound, marshmallow soft. Walking.

He was almost home when he realized he'd forgotten his mother's car.

* * * Several years later * * *

Dan Logan's heavy lids raise and waken him to the nightmare he had feared for many years; locked up and kicking, cold turkey. Goose-bumps race across his skin as a rush of embarrassment blankets his naked body.

He thinks of his son and reflects on life: What if I hadn't run so far from home, turned left and headed for Colorado, instead of this God forsaken trap! "Ouch!" Dan's skull is in a vise of anger.