Novel, Chapter 7

[Remember, if you just started you can read the rest by clicking at the top of the page where it says Novel, Chapters 1-7]

Yo! YO! Looky here!

Chapter Seven: Living in the lap of luxury

I spent the next several days camping in “Little Goshen.”  Anne supplied a pup tent, a fry pan, some primitive food, and company.  I ate spam, spam, and more spam, with whatever else she happened to bring.  The Buick was safely hidden at the end of a road nobody seemed to use.  I had a cheap phone with some pre-purchased minutes, thanks to Wal-Mart. And Anne.  I spent my days gathering fire wood, cooking my food, and reading cheap novels.  And looking forward to Anne’s next visit. 

 There was a mountain stream nearby, so I had plenty of fresh water. I had not seen another soul since we had found this place.  I didn’t mention it to Anne that I had been to the place before with my son, looking for deer.  He actually shot a deer one year, much to my chagrin.  I had not been sorry that he got it, only sorry that we had to drag it back to the car and carry it back home and skin it and eat it.  Course, after all that spam that Anne kept bringing me, a little venison sounded like heaven. 

 Anne came out to see me a couple of times a week. I could hear her car coming for what sounded like miles. There was no other sound in that wilderness. One afternoon I thought I heard her coming again.  When the forest ranger pulled into view I was disappointed, to say the least.

 He got out and walked over to me.  He looked everywhere in an instant and said, “How long you staying, Mister?”

 “Just a couple of days. Is something the matter?”

 “Nope. As long as you are staying less than a week, you don’t need a permit.  You taking precautions to keep your camp fire from spreading? You know how dry it has been this year.  Just one spark can catch this whole woods on fire.”

 “Yes sir. I’m being careful.”

 Almost as an after thought. “Hey, you got any I.D.?”

 Gulp. “Sure. Back at the car. But the car is about two miles away. I’m Sam Brown, born and raised in Richmond, Virginia. I teach school, I’m just up here for the last few days of summer vacation before I have to get back to teaching the little rug rats this fall.” 

 He seemed to buy it.  “No problem.  And make sure you bury your garbage. We’ve got a lot of black bears around here.” 

 After otherwise reminding me that he was the boss and that I was the interloper, he finally drove off, much to my relief. 

 A few minutes later I heard Anne coming. 

 She brought a cooler of beer, some corn on the cob and more spam. Yummy.     

 “Hmm. A skirt in this neck of the woods? You didn’t have to get dressed up just for me.”

 “I didn’t, Mr. Fugitive, I  had an open house for school. Had to meet the parents of my next class. Oh, wait, you wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about, having never actually taught a class and all.”

 “Any of the Dads make a pass at you?”  As I cracked open a cold one.

 “Naw, I must be losing it.”

 Nope. You are definitely not losing it, I thought to myself. No, wrong answer, I replied.  Keep her off-balance. “Yeah, maybe you are.”  Smile. 

 She punched me in the arm and said: “Hello, may I speak to the police? I have some information to share about a fugitive.”

 I kept up the ruse: “I have been helping him remain a fugitive. I’ve supplied him food, equipment and money. At the moment I’m sharing a beer with him,” in my best imitation of her voice.

 “He’s armed and dangerous,” she added. “Well, at least I’ve been told that he’s dangerous…”

 I spent the rest of the night trying to show her how “dangerous” I was.  Yeah, she spent the night.  But she slept in her own separate pup tent.  After we had talked late into the night.

[32 pages so far…]

John Doe

One response to “Novel, Chapter 7

  1. Keep spinning ’em out.

    Mike.

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