Play Dead (Part 35)

I’m Fixin’ To Play Dead (Part 35):

Shrimp and shredded lettuce spilled out on the floorboard of the truck when Louise dropped her po-boy sandwich after reading my real name in the story on the front page of USA Today.

After she got over the shock of it, she told me the article reported that Todd Prescott, my real name, had no living relatives and that his ex-wife refused to talk to the media. And that it went on to report that the Government Office of Circumlocution had appropriated a business owned by the deceased which dealt in fresh fruit and vegetables, referred to as the VegX Corporation.

Louise looked up from the newspaper and asked, “Which name you want to go by now?”

“Todd Prescott is dead,” I told her. “I suppose I’ll use the name I’ve been using, Ralph Cooper, an old high school class mate of mine who died a long time ago.”

“I think I’ll call you Sonny Boy, like Leon did. By the way, Sonny Boy, I could sure use something to drink.”

“We’ll be coming into Perdue Hill in about a mile or two. There’s a Pure Station there. I’ll pull in there and get something. After that I want you to drive.”

“Why, you tired?” Louise asked.

“Yeah, I’m tired, but it’s not that. Remember I don’t have a driver’s license or any type of ID. If we get pulled over for anything, you might get us through it.”

She was sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck when I returned from inside the little store with a bottle of water for myself and a diet Mountain Dew for her.

It wasn’t long before we were crossing the long arched bridge over the Alabama River where the land spread out flat and grassy, with fat cattle scattered about. Off in the distance I could see white limestone cliffs with groves of loblollies guarding their bases. I must have dozed off after that because I woke up feeling myself falling forward onto the dashboard. Catching myself with my hands, I saw a red light ahead and felt the truck slowing rapidly.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“We’re in Clarke County, and this here is the county seat, so we have to be careful going through it because there’s always a lot of law here. This is Highway 43 we’re turning north on. We’ll take it past Thomasville, and then get on Highway 5 into Catherine, and then take 22 into Selma, and from there we’ll take 80 right on into Montgomery. It’s the long way around, but it’ll be the safest route for us.”

“How come you know all these back roads?” I asked her.

“Cause I been running up and down ‘em all my life.”

We drove in silence for about 10 minutes before Louise said, “It’s only a couple miles until we get into Thomasville, and it’ll be twilight by then. There’s a Super Wal-mart there—perfect place to pick us up a new ride.”

Startled, I sat up straight and blurted out, “Are you talking about stealing a car?”

“It’s the only way to get us out of this mess, Sonny Boy. The law is looking for us out on the interstate, but sooner or later they’ll be looking for us over this way. Besides, this old truck is just about on its last leg. That Wal-Mart is just up over that long hill, ‘bout a quarter of a mile.”

At that moment, as if on cue, there was a loud hissing noise and steam began shooting from underneath the hood of the truck.

“We’ve blown a hose,” Louise said as she pulled off the road underneath a street light. “Only one thing to do,” she said as she exited the truck. “You stay here and be ready to transfer the bags when I get back.”

She was gone into the growing darkness before I could protest.

I had been fiddling with the radio for about 15 minutes and my head was down when suddenly there were blue flashing lights right on top of me. The blood rushed to my head so fast that I could feel every hair on my head. I had seen enough flashing blue lights in the last three days to last me a lifetime, but there was nothing I could do except wait and hope.

I saw movement behind me while I rolled the window down. When the cop walked up to the window I saw that his uniform was brown and had a round city patch on his shoulder. He was a local cop. Better than a state trooper, I thought.

But any way you looked at it, a cop was a cop, and with me having no ID and a gun on me I knew I was more than likely fixing to go to jail.