The Dark Journey
Chapter 6 - Aloneness



I talk to myself
because no one else listens.
I laugh at myself
because if I didn't I would cry.
I sing to myself
off key and faltering.
No one really cares enough
to ask for the reasons why.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stumbled and ran through the streets towards my 'home' blinking back the tears. I crawled into my hole and lay down, shivering and moaning out my fear and loss. I cried until I thought I couldn't cry anymore. Then I cried again. Sleep overtook me at some point.

The next day I woke up with a horrible headache. I lit a candle and peered into my scrap of mirror. My face was streaked with dried blood, as were my hands. I looked down at my blouse and saw that it was also covered with blood. I quickly stripped down, rummaged in my pack and dressed in clean clothes.

The last thing that Gus had done was to give me the one thing he had managed to keep the hot-lunchers from taking. Forty-six dollars in crumpled, blood stained bills. As I stashed the money away in my small cubby hole at the back of my place, I felt the tears welling up again. I had known Augustus Blackburn for less than two weeks and yet I felt as if I had known him forever. Now he was dead, killed for a coat a hat and a pair of boots. I was filled with anger and loathing for the two who had done this crime and swore vengeance upon them.

I walked down to the river, keeping my head down and my hands in my pockets so that the blood wouldn't show. I removed my blouse, plunged my hands in the water and showered it upon my face and upper body. I soaped myself up with the bar that Gus had given me last week, stating that while we may be living in destitution, that was no reason to smell offensively. I scrubbed my face and arms for what must have been half an hour, and finally I felt that I was clean enough. Then I washed my hair, rinsed, dried off and dressed.

I discarded the blood stained clothing in a garbage can behind a house about 4 miles from where I was living, and walked slowly back home. It seemed so empty there now without my neighbor. I went to his side of the building, lit a candle, took the Collective Works of William Shakespeare down from the shelf, settled in his half-chair and began to read.

I moved my meager belongings over to Gus' side the next morning. His was so much nicer than mine, and I know he would have wanted me to be comfortable. I went to the store and bought a pound of bacon and half a dozen eggs. As I cooked I thought about that first day when he invited me to breakfast. Tears stung my eyes and I did a terrible job on the eggs, burned the bacon, but it was still a wonderful meal.

I thought about all the things he had told me. The advice and the warnings. One of them had been 'Never become too comfortable in your surroundings, and never stay in one place for too long. You may not know who is watching you. The longer you stay in one place, the more chance there is of someone finding where you live.' I thought about this over and over. I had been here for a month now. How long was too long? Should I be thinking about moving? Where should I go to?

A week after his death I began to scout out new living quarters, as I am sure he would have wanted me to. There were several good prospects, but most of them showed signs of previous habitation. Gus had warned me that if someone had been staying there before, then someone would quite likely come back, or others may find it and move in. In either case it would be dangerous for a pretty, young girl to take such a chance.

Finally I found what I was looking for. Another crawl space under an old warehouse building near the railroad tracks, but not so near as to be frequented by the rail riders, and in just enough of a state of disrepair that it didn't really invite much more than a glance if you were seeking a good shelter. Having learned from the master, I knew how to patch and repair the walls, line them with cardboard, fill the cracks, and make a suitable dwelling. I also now had Gus' cooking utensils, books, flashlight, candles, and about thirty dollars. I was living in the lap of luxury, but I was alone.



Back