From: msnsc21@aol.com   
      
   ok to post to newsgroup, I will post to Gossamer and Ephemeral.   
   Thanks!   
      
   Title: Random Acts   
   Author: ML   
   email:  msnsc21@aol.com   
   Feedback: would be delightful!   
   Distribution: Gossamer, Ephemeral, yes; anyone else,   
   just drop me a line.  Thanks!   
   Timeline: Post "The Truth"   
   Rating: PG-13ish for a bad word or two   
   Disclaimer: Not mine   
   Summary: How legends are born.   
      
   For Char, in honor of her cross-country trip.   
      
   ====   
      
   We are going, Heaven knows where we are going   
   We'll know we're there   
      
   We will get there, Heaven knows how we will get there,   
   We know we will   
      
   It will be hard, we know   
   And the road will be muddy and rough   
   But we'll get there   
   Heaven knows how we will get there   
   We know we will   
      
      
   Random Acts   
   by ML   
      
      
   After all this time on the road, he never thought he'd   
   see himself pick up a couple of hitchhikers.   
      
   Suspicion ran deep with him, always had.  He was well-suited   
   to his loner life on the road.  He kept to himself at truck   
   stops, avoiding even the casual chatter of the waitress or   
   the guy on the stool next to him.  He got his food to go if   
   the place was crowded, preferring the solitude of his rig   
   over the false camaraderie of the truck stop cafes.   
      
   But these two caught his eye as he paid his bill.  Not   
   that they were trying to; in fact, they looked more like   
   they were trying to blend in than stand out.  But something   
   about them made him look, and look again.   
      
   At first, he thought it was a man and a boy, sitting   
   side by side in the booth.  The man was dark-haired and   
   weary-eyed, stubble flecked with a few gray hairs.  The   
   boy had chopped-off yellow hair and was smooth-skinned.   
   He wore an oversize denim jacket, sleeves so long they   
   almost hid his hands, which were twined with the man's.   
      
   Maybe that's what made him look twice, and then he realized   
   that the boy was actually a woman.  She'd been looking down,   
   studying their linked hands, but when she looked up he could   
   see the unmistakable curve of her lips, the astonishing blue   
   of her gaze as she looked at her companion.   
      
   They both looked a little the worse for wear.  The man   
   looked up and caught him staring.  He let his eyes slide   
   away, as though he'd merely glanced over them as he   
   waited for his order.  He left the restaurant in a hurry,   
   feeling strangely guilty -- as if he'd been spying or   
   something.   
      
   Later, after he'd had his dinner and some shut-eye, he   
   went out to take a leak before starting on his way.  He   
   saw them again, at the edge of the parking lot.  The man   
   was helping the woman put on her backpack.   
      
   He looked around.  Except for a couple of long-haulers,   
   he didn't see any other vehicles in the lot.  Were they   
   nuts, planning to walk through the night?  The days were   
   still warm, but even in the desert it got cold at night.   
   And no one who meant well would pick up hitchers on a   
   lonely road at night.   
      
   Afterward, when he thought about it, he couldn't   
   explain why he'd approached them.  They weren't asking   
   for help.  His policy had always been to leave well   
   enough alone, and these two were adults who must have   
   had their reasons for doing what they were doing.  It   
   was none of his business.   
      
   But approach them he did.  "Where're you headed?"  he   
   asked gruffly.   
      
   The turned as one to face him, identical defensive moves.   
   The man said, in a voice nearly as rusty as his own, "Just   
   up the road a ways."  He looked wary, as did the woman   
   beside him.   
      
   "Me too," he heard himself say.  He could see the   
   exhaustion written all over their faces and in the sag   
   of their shoulders.  "Come on, I've got plenty of room."   
      
   After a long moment of silent communication with his   
   companion, the man nodded.   
      
   He opened the passenger side and noted how the man stood   
   and let the woman pull herself up into the rig, watchful   
   but respectful, ready to help only if asked.  He hoisted   
   himself up after her, stowing his pack behind the seat,   
   but placing hers so she'd have a footrest.   
      
   He also noticed that the man had placed himself in the   
   middle of the seat very matter-of-factly.  He shrugged   
   to himself and started his rig, letting the engine warm   
   before pulling out of the parking lot.   
      
   The woman was asleep, her head pillowed on her bunched   
   up jacket, before they were a mile down the road.   
      
   "You got a name, fella?"  he asked, just to be making   
   conversation.  He still couldn't figure out what had   
   gotten into him, picking these two up.   
      
   "You can call me Bobby," the man said.  "And she's   
   McGee," he added.  "We're traveling light."   
      
   So light they'd left their real names behind, he   
   thought.  The least the guy could have done was let   
   the woman be Bobby.  Maybe they took turns.   
      
   "What's yours?"  Bobby was asking.   
      
   "Sam," he said.  Close enough, anyway.  It was his   
   middle name, and he hardly ever used it, but two could   
   play at this name game.   
      
   "Good to meet you, Sam," Bobby said.  There was something   
   odd about the way he said the name, like he suspected   
   it wasn't his real name.   
      
   He upped the ante a little.  "You running from something?"   
      
   The guy flinched, just a bit.  "You could say that.  Also   
   running to something," he added cryptically.   
      
   They rode in silence for a while.  Sam noticed how the man   
   kept contact with his companion.  His hand always rested   
   against her leg or her hand.  If she moved in her sleep,   
   he was instantly aware but did not disturb her if she   
   settled again.   
      
   Bobby turned and caught Sam looking again.  "It's harder   
   on her," he said.   
      
   "So what are you running to?"  Sam asked.   
      
   The man hesitated a moment.  "The truth," he said finally.   
      
   Sam half-expected him to pull out a religious tract, but   
   Bobby shrugged and looked out the window a moment, then   
   turned back to Sam.  "There's bad stuff out there, waiting   
   to happen.  We're doing what we can to stop it."   
      
   Sam waited, but no more was coming out of the man's mouth.   
   "Just the two of you?" he asked.  The man looked pretty   
   strong, but the woman was so tiny.  What could she do?   
      
   "It'll do for a start," he said.  "We hope we won't   
   always be alone."   
      
   "I'm not much of a joiner myself," Sam said cautiously,   
   still expecting some sort of pitch.   
      
   "That's okay, I'm not recruiting," Bobby said with a   
   small grin.  "We just appreciate the ride."   
      
   "Neither of you seems like the type for the open road,"   
   Sam ventured.   
      
   Bobby shrugged again and smiled a little.  "Yeah, it   
   wasn't my original career path but you work with what   
   you've got."   
      
   "Do you have a place you call home?"   
      
   The man was silent for so long that Sam thought he'd asked   
   for too much information.  But when he glanced over, the   
   man who called himself Bobby was gazing on his companion,   
   stroking her hand softly.  Sam turned away quickly.  He was   
   pretty sure he wasn't meant to see that.   
      
   Finally the man said,  "We don't have a home in the widely   
   understood meaning of the term."  He spoke very softly, his   
   eyes still on the woman.  "But we'll know when we get there."   
      
   Sam just grunted in reply.  The other man didn't say anything   
   more, just sat holding the woman close, whose head now rested   
   against his shoulder.  He stroked her short hair as he stared   
   out the window.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)