"The Nomad"

Somewhere in a grungy bar in El Paso, Texas, our hero
stands; a fearless man, with the attributes of a Harley
Davidson motorcycle; a free spirit in the open road, taking
paths untaken, choosing roads never before chosen. Within
the bar, labeled with a blue neon sign saying "Hank's
Hangout", was a rattling Billiards table. It was thronged
with people; only two were players, but onlookers chose
to stop by and gaze as an exciting game snowballed between
the two men. One was a rough edged man in his late twenties. He
wore a black shirt signifying his passion to the loveable pioneers of Metal, "Iron Maiden", matching pants and shoes and on a nearby
seat lay a leather jacket, more than likely his. The other
was a common beer guzzling drunk you'd expect to see in a
bar, for it is the one place you may be legally drunk.

"8 ball, corner pocket'', says the man in black attire, the
game nearing its end with a clear victory "I've got 10 bucks
saying you won't be making that shot, sonny", said the large
man in biker gear and quite a lot of body hair sticking out
in places we'd rather not speak of. He wore on himself a beard, slowly graying on his face, and dumb looking expression.

With a slight shine in his eye and an inconspicuous grin the player aims carefully,
pulls back the cue, and strikes. The ball bounces off the
walls of the table, missing the pocket and racing across
the table; after several spins, it returns to the same
spot, and slowly heads for the destined hole. It goes in
slowly with a knock and leaves the table empty.

"I guess you were wrong then; those ten bucks, excluding
the 50 we bet on the game, are mine", the winning
player elegantly pronounces with a small smirk of success.

"You low-life bastard (the accent made it sound much more resembling to "Yu lo-ife" "), you must have cheated! Winning isn't
enough, you have to show off too? Here, have some of this
drink", the biker raises a chair with rage and tosses it
over to the other player from the far side of the bar. His
friends back away, not wishing to be part of the fight.

Diverting the chair with the pool cue, the player's words
through grinded teeth were "I didn't want to resort to
this, dude, but you leave me little choice", beginning to
professionally spin the cue with his hand and rotating it
quickly. He stops it and points at the furious biker.

The biker charges forward with an angry grunt. Our evil looking hero
breaks the cue in two sharp halves and points a sharp
splinter at the biker's eye. Just as he's about to ram it
through his head and make his leave with a body count, a
waitress screams at him: "No! Don't you kill anybody in
this here bar. I'll call the cops if I have to!"

Now finally upset, the slimmer of the fighters drops the
sharp wooden cue and swings his elbow back with a grin; his
left fist and the biker's right eye connect with a blunt 'thud'. The biker
drops to the hardwood floor, raising dust off of it, while
the winner steps over him to get to the waitress behind her
counter. He steps forward primly and surely.

"He'll be up and walking in an hour, now may I have a beer
Miss?" He asks politely. His eyes are tired and uncaring for whatever unethical deed he could ever do.

She takes a moment to understand the consequences, but
eventually replies: "Home's Keg or foreign?"

"Foreign", he answers quietly, "and if I may have your name
as well Miss", he adds softly.

"Emily, and here's your beer. That will be $23, 3 for the
beer and 20 for the cue", she firmly says to him, looking
at the broken stick that lay dissipated on the floor.

"Put that on my good friend's tab, the one with the puffy
right eye on the floor. I should be leaving this place
anyway; can't be in one place for too long", he sips the
beer in a hurry & a groan, and then walks to the pool table, puts on his
jacket with mild concern to the body laying before him, and proceeds to step out of the bar, not paying
attention to the waitress's angry comments about his
mother.

On the stairs out, under the scorching sun, is a small boy,
9 years old. He was sitting on the steps waiting, blocking
the exit. Trying to skip over the child, the man trips and
lets out a shout to the boy, "hey kid, do you have to be
sitting on the damn steps? People are trying to get through
and don't want to jump over you, you know!"

"Sorry Mister, I'm just waiting for my father. He said I
couldn't go in so I'm just waiting, and anywhere but on
these steps there's no shade. What would you prefer; to
skip over a kid on the stairs, or call 911 when you see him
lying passed out from heat stroke, after being kicked from
them stairs?" The child remarks with a cynical approach only suited to the bitter life experience of old men. "But he's been in there awful long now..." he adds.

The man looks at him, nearly trying to answer the
rhetorical question he was posed with a gaze of surprise.
"Well...is your dad a guy in a leather vest by any
chance...?" Fearing he may have knocked out the father of
that child.

"No Sir, My father wears a blue jeans jacket and brown pants.
I'm Chris, Chris Darnel", the boy replies with wide, glaring
eyes.

"Jack Orewel, and I don't think I saw anyone that fits that
description in the bar. Boy, are you sure he's in?" Jack
comments to the small child.

"Well, he drives a dark blue Chevrolet Caprice", Chris
answers, unsure where his father may be.

Looking onto the parking lot, behind it the busy road, Jack
saw no Caprice and could only assume the so called father
had vanished. Or the boy was lying for whatever reason; not
uncommon in the company of nine year olds. "Are you sure
boy? There isn't even a clue a Caprice was here and I bet
there won't be one passing by in a long time. I've seen
this before, but mostly in movies. I think you've been left
back kid".

"No Sir, we live all the way in Pittsburg, New Hampshire.
My father said we were only going here because he had
business here. No way he took off without me after having
driven over 2,500 miles across the conty", the child mispronounces 'country' into a babble of one word as his tongue is still tied with inexperience. Chris replies, not
suspecting his father could ever abandon him, much less
after being in his company nearly a week on the roads.

They both stare at each other; Jack's eyes are cold,
rational, and yet compassionate for the young boy who does
not know his father had made a tedious road trip only to
leave him behind. Chris looks at Jack unable to comprehend
how a father could neglect to such an extent. Orewell
shifts his eyes, nervously thinking what to tell the little
child before him. He settles for the cold and brutal truth
as he had always wanted to know it. "Look son, your father
left you here for dead because he doesn't want you; but
don't worry, I'll take you with me to him and give him a
piece of my mind about leaving behind children in another
state...alive".

Slowly realizing the truth, Chris looks ahead into the
deserted terrain. The classic image of westerns pops to
mind with a cactus and ball of dust rolling on the dirt,
blown away by the southern winds. "No, just... just take me
with you; I want to live the life of the open road".

"The best I can do kid, is to take you with me to your
parents and then drop you off there. I can't have a kid
tagging along behind me", Jack proclaims, quivering at the
idea of even traveling with the company of a child who will
more than likely disturb him most of the time. "So... let's
just do it and get it over with now. First we have to get
you a helmet, or a trash bin to wear; any old thing will
do", he continues with a small smile; the child does not
look amused. Later the two march into a store conveniently
located right by the bar. Walking in, the sales person
standing behind his wood and plastic counter reacted with
awe; he had never before seen a biker that young, as the
child was about to be.

"Kid's first lid, eh? I'll give you a special deal; $350
and it's yours", the pleasant person tries to help. Jack
responds "Yeah, I'll take it. I'm just going out of the
Ginmill and about to go a long way on the I. Here's 50
bucks and I'll be taking that".

"You're the kid's father?" The seller begins to question.
He didn't yet comprehend Jack's response.

"No, I'm just driving him to New Hampshire as a favor",
Jack replies while pushing away the money and grasping the
small helmet below his armpit. The stunned salesman frowns
and twitches his eyebrows, thinking he must have missed
something in that last sentence, but before he could ask a
thing the eerie traveler had walked out of the store. A
shocked store clerk then looks at the counter to see the
fragment of the money he had requested; his nostrils flare
and eyes widen at once. Knowing he had lost about $300 and
didn't even notice it.

Meanwhile Jack stands beside Chris who is looking at a
single shoe left on the sandy road. He shyly speaks up,
"Who the hell leaves behind one shoe? If you're going to
leave shoes, you might as well leave a pair". Jack nods in
consent saying to Chris that the phrase "Hobos on wheels"
comes to mind (Shopping cart wheels that is), with the
image of the lone shoe by a biker bar in the very edge of
nowhere and between nothing. The two get distracted from
the lone sneaker as a stranger in a brand new Chrysler C300
waves for them to help him park in a tight space. Jack waves
back and approaches, he tells Chris to get on the
motorcycle, get his helmet on and be ready to go in a
hurry. Chris is excited and blurts out to Jack as he's
leaving, "Cool! You ride a bike! I've got a bike too,
just... not as big". Jack comes near the small parking
space and waves at the driver to go back saying, "You've
got lots of room, go back, go back!" The driver backs up
the large vehicle as Jack shouts out again, "Good, good".
He presses the gas pedal a little harder thinking he has
room, encouraged by the young man's shouts. The driver then
feels the impact as his expensive car is smashed into the
front bumper of a large H2 Hummer which doesn't have as
much as a scratch on it. The driver gets out of his car,
running to the back to inspect the damage. He yells at the
top of his lungs, "What... what the fuck did you just
do?!".

Jack calmly licks his upper lip and blurts out, "Yeah...
about that... I really have to go now,
see-ya!" Jack guns it back to his bike, wears his helmet
sideways, pulls on the throttle and drives away. At that
very moment the store clerk walks out looking for Jack.
Running out of the store he expects to bump into the
traveler who is coming back to give the rest of the money
with an apology for forgetting but as the door slams open
there is only dust on the driveway and a chopper in the
distance, with two helmets, a crashed Chrysler... and a
shoe.

Day 1 on the road- Texas

The newly forged twosome is sitting at a crowded diner in
Balmorhea, Reeves County. Jack is looking at Chris, not
knowing where to take the conversation next; usually the
topics would be beer, women and cars. However this time it
would prove hard as his new mate was a below drinking, below hooker age, and didn't know much about cars, except color. Chris
looks up from the old stained, but white, table and dares
to say the words first, "So... how old are you?". Jack
seems delighted not having to think much for the reply and
answers, "twenty nine, and you're like what, nine? At
best". Chris replies slowly as if fishing for more topics,
"Yup".

He gets a bright look on his face as he finds more things
to say, rushing into them all at once, "What do you do for
a living? How long? Do you even like it? Do you have any
friends? A girlfriend? Do you own a gun? Can I have a
beer?"

Jack tries to take it all in the thirty seconds he got. He
waves over to the waitress to come over and in the same
time replies to Chris, "I bet on things, do odd jobs of
different ways, I make enough money to get by. I've been
doing it for nearly 10 years and yes, I like it. I had
friends, once. Well actually it was just one guy but he...
passed away. I had a girlfriend but that ended on the wrong
side and I'd rather not speak of it. I don't own a gun
and... HELL no!"

The waitress finally comes over and speaks to them, "Hello,
I'm Edna and I'll be with you today. What can I get you
two?"

Jack replies, "I'll take a cheeseburger and a beer of
whatever you have. The kid will have the same only with
a..."

"Beer!" Chris abruptly interferes. Jack gazes at him and is
quick to correct him with a sigh, "By beer, he meant Coke.
However by beer I meant... beer".

Chris looks frustrated at the failed yet heroic attempt at
underage drinking. The waitress stares at the two with an
eerie look on her face. She walks away with the order notes
in her hand. Seven minutes later she delivers them their
food. They both start eating with hungry, blood thirsty
eyes. Chris begins to question Jack again, "So, what sort
of engine you got on your bike?"

Jack looks up as he bites off a piece of the meat and
cheese. He swallows and answers, "Twin cam, 1450 cc,
internal gerotor which is more efficient, maintains a
higher pressure and larger volume. Silent chain, Bathtub
shaped and no spark wasted. Neat eh?"

The kid looks at Orewell for a brief moment, says nothing
and returns to chewing on his meal.

Chris looks suspiciously at Jack and asks softly, "Why are you a biker?"

Jack thinks for a minute to find the right answer and finally gets it out, "Had a rough life, kid. Kind of like what you're going through now, only I didn't have a stranger bring me home, I roamed outside and learned the ways of the outside. Besides, I'm not good for any of those office jobs, too locked up, I need freedom".

Quietly they pay their
bill and leave just to get back on the road. They go to a
Motel later that night and get some sleep although
interrupted frequently by the constant noise of rodents and
insects which seemed to infest the whole building. Jack
falls asleep at 2 AM after 2 hours of many bathroom trips
induced by the aforementioned cheeseburger.

Day 2 on the road- Arkansas, land of no teeth

We survived.

Day 3 on the road- Missouri and Illinois

Jack and Chris travel inside of the city of Saint Louis.
They take a small side road to find any place where they
can eat and leave as soon as possible. On their way they
pass a kindergarten; Jack is reminded of his childhood and
certain phrases from his own past come rushing into his
mind as he's passing it by, seeing all the children running
to the fence to admire the rumble of the mighty engine (a
twin cam engine I remind you).

1985 - Jack's mother: "You're father and I are getting a
divorce Jack. He wants to meet other people and mommy
already has. You'll live with both of us, two weeks at a
time".

1989- Jack's father: "Son, you're mother died in a car
crash last night. There's no point hiding it and no point
in crying over it, let the past stay in the past".

1993 - Jack's father: "You're on your own now kid, I'm off
to Ohio on a job. You know how the house runs, I'll leave
you a little money to get by. See-ya".

1995 - Jack's shrink: "There's something wrong Jack, you
know there is; the constant phobias and apathy, the
conniptions whenever something goes wrong... it has to
stop. I'm sending you to an expert. You can choose not to
go, but I'd recommend against that".

2000 - Jack's bank representative: "Sir, I'm afraid we're
going to have to confiscate nearly all of your possessions.
You haven't paid any taxes in 7 years''.

He shakes his head to clear off the worst thoughts he'd had
in years and thinks to himself, "I remember those days when
I was that young, the innocence that accompanies it,
knowing nothing is wrong in your world and nothing can be
wrong, knowing everyone you meet is good and being
sheltered from the troubles of this world. Before you had
to worry about friends, teachers, homework... and way
before you had to think about relationships or finding work
to support yourself, at that age you're just a kid living
happily ever after with your parents. But no, we give our
children all that confidence only to it smash later on.

If only we could all just stay in that point of life,
before we know how evil the world around us really is;
without people kidnapping children to have their way with
them; without terrorism bombing all around us; without the
carelessness of some people. And I guess without people
driving by and thinking of their own pitiful childhood".

Jack keeps thinking when Chris pulls on his shirt, "Jack!
A tree! Move!"
Looking back to the road Jack sees an oak tree facing him
and approaching rapidly. He swerves to avoid it and lets
out a sigh of relief. They get past the obstacle in one
piece and drive on. Later on the road a red Porsche Cayman
S appears, driven by two young attractive women. They drive
alongside the motorcycle and wave hello. Jack lifts up the
wind shield of his helmet and smiles back with a wink, the
girls rev the engine and giggle. Chris does the same and
the girls look at each other in slight shock and take the
next turn out. Jack turns to Chris with a holler, "You blew
it!"

The two continue to drive when Chris asks Jack why he heard
lots of noise right before he walked out of the bar the day
they met. Jack tries to explain knowing the child knows he
was probably in a fight.

Jack answered, "See Chris, there are two types of people,
the attacker and the defender, much like in nature with
animals like the bull vs. the cougar. In nature the bull
doesn't attack often; he attacks when he's fighting another
male for a female, or when he is really pissed off. On the
other hand the cougar is born pissed off; they constantly
fight and never solve anything in any way of peace. They
have claws and teeth and eat flesh to satisfy themselves.
The bull however is a vegetarian and only has those
menacing horns to defend himself. Now think what would
happen if the cougar were to approach and piss off the
bull. As you must see the bull would ram him in a glorious
but predictable battle. I'd say the bull would win though
being injured he would never quit. So what you heard in the
bar was basically... a bull and a cougar."

Chris replied "Well I just thought it was a fight between a
couple drunks in the bar, but when you put like that,
whoa..."

Eventually night came along and they had to check into any
cheap motel they could find, but Jack seemed to have
misplaced his wallet and couldn't pay.

The owner says, "Look here you two, either you fork out $20
or you're sleeping somewhere else'', while knocking on the
glass behind his counter. Orewell and Darnel look at each
other, Chris looks down and says, "I didn't want to do
this, but if I have to". Chris pulls up his shirt revealing
his chest to the owner. The owner isn't impressed and says:
"What's that supposed to be?" Chris looks over at Jack and
says with an innocent grin, "It worked in 'Serving Sara'".
Jack slaps his own forehead lightly as if a great sign of
stupidity (or innocence) had occurred before him. The two
leave the reception office while Jack mumbles, "Ass..."

Later on they stand quietly outside of room 17; after
making sure the room was empty Jack attempts to pick the
lock while Chris is looking out for people. Jack looks up
at Chris for a moment and says: "I don't know what I'm
doing. I could be locking it even more, ok?"
Chris gives him angry look as to express the feeling of
"What the fuck are you doing then?". A couple moments later
the door clicks and squeaks open. They walk in and see there
is one bed, they again look exchange glances and sigh, moments later
Chris climbs into bed as Jack tries to lean out on a couch. Jack soon falls off the couch
chair and gets back on. He eventually falls asleep.

Day 4 on the road- Indiana

Our heroes now make their way through the state of Indiana.
While in the midst of the state, Jack seemed to make some
wrong turns and wound up in a cemetery. He gets off the
bike and told the young boy to wait for a few minutes until
he gets back. Jack slowly steps through the graves, some
unmarked, some marked, some surrounded by weeping
relatives, some gathering dust and spider cobs all alone.
Such a grave was the one that belonged to a certain Gregg
Cliffe, one who had died on Christmas day the last year.
Seems the holidays weren't too kind to him. Jack faces the
grave and pulls up a medal that was around his neck. He
starts talking silently to the grave:

"Look... I know I promised to give you this back when I
borrowed it 16 months ago, but I never knew you would...
you know. I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I want you to know
it could have happened to anyone, and you set an example
that modern medicine still can't be the cure to everything.
I know I never said this sort of things back when you were
alive but I suppose I never felt the need to, and now...
now it's too late to pour my heart out, but fuck it, you're
dead, you can't stop me. You probably don't know this
because I never talked about it, but you were most likely
the only friend I ever had that I could trust with my
secrets, and indeed you knew my darkest secrets and I rest
assured that you took them to your grave with you as I will
with yours. It shouldn't have happened to you, if anyone
deserved such a punishment like that it's me; you had a
family and everything. God is cruel having done this to
them and to you; it should have happened to me; I am a
Godless, shameless whore and I'm not afraid to admit it,
heh. I keep thinking about how it happened and it never
makes sense to me. I've looked through every angle and it's
still not right. You know what they say; 'only the good die
young'. But as some band said very well in their song:
"No more tears Amigo". That's all I've got to really say.
That and, hang in there buddy, the first 40 years suck,
then you have eternity to get used to it". Jack lays down
the medal on the tombstone and slowly walks away to the
bike. On his way back he is reminded of the words of John
Milton, "Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads
up to light". It's been sort of a rough year for him. Right
before he leaves the gates he has a flashback of another
person that was in his life for a while but also left; a
woman named Becky. He shook his head to get rid of the
thought before he really started thinking about it. He gets
on the bike and starts the engine. He turns to Chris: "I had
some business to take care of, hope you didn't wait too
long". Chris shakes his head in a "no" kind of gesture. They drive off
and away.

Day 5 on the road- Ohio

The two are sitting at yet another small diner to get some
food. This time Chris gathers up courage and asks Jack
about his former girlfriend he refuses to talk about. Jack
tells him no, but Chris persists and continues to ask until
eventually Jack couldn't even enjoy a bite of his meal so he
caves in and agrees to tell Chris about it,

"Alright already, I'll tell you if you promise to shut up
the rest of the way. It was 5 years ago, her name was Becky.
I was madly in love but it took me three months to get her
to agree to date me, I guess I pressured her too much and
it didn't work. I did everything I could; I gave her more
than I could afford; I did every romantic gesture in and
out of the book, but nothing worked. Two weeks later she
gave the old line of "we have to talk" and told me it was
over. I know that was a long time ago but it's just the
sort of times when you know that kind of person will just
never come around ever again. There, you happy now? I'm
miserable, thanks a lot, let's just finish this god awful
food and get out". Jack is angry, and not even the manager will dare approach him about the place's food comment, not now. Nobody wants his ass kicked on the job.

Day 6 on the road- New York

Chris threw up from the food. He'll live.

Day 7 on the road- New Hampshire

The two finally reach Pittsburg at about noon. Jack follows
the kid's directions through the city and reaches his home.
They get off the bike and Jack knocks firmly on the door.
He gets no answer, so he knocks again. No answer. He knocks
one more time as hard as he can, the door opens quietly.
Jack looks in, the home is rusted and dirty, empty of any
furniture. He looks back with a gaze of utter shock and
finds to his surprise, that Chris is gone. He looks
everywhere around, but he can't find him. Soon after he
realizes this all may have been some psychotic personal
journey to understand he had to face his past some day.

The scene rapidly changes to a bar in New York City. Jack
is talking to two other guys who seem fascinated by what
he's saying. They ask him, "Wow, is that really what
happened?"
Jack replies with a knowing grin, "No, not at all. I
dropped the kid off at the Police Department and his father
showed up shortly saying Chris got away from the car while
refueling. It could have happened to anyone".

Two men at bar, "So why did you tell us this long ass
story?"
Jack, "Well, it sure made a better story, didn't it?"

Didn't it now?

Epilogue:

Jack eventually made home in Indiana, as a motorcycle sails-person. Chris was never spotted again although he grew to be a successful comic in New Hampshire.
Becky had a nice life although packed with trouble and misfortune.
The guy who got smacked in the bar lived. He just had to come to terms with the fact bar fights don't always end on his side.
Emily did take the money from the guy's tab.
The tree in Missouri was cut down, being a menace to drivers.

Author's comments:
All reference of the movie "Serving Sara" belong to "Paramount studios". All reference of "Iron Maiden" belongs to their "Phantom Entertainment" company. Rights to this short story and the contents of this user page belong to Dan "Phantom" S. (notarized)
Lastly, I hope you enjoyed this story, derived mostly from the basic idea of a road nomad, like "I.M"s song, "The Nomad". Titles are not copyrighted, contents are, and only regarding music.

The End.

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