Letters To Luke

Chapter Nine: Fugitives

"We just have to stay calm," Rachael said, Michael panted furiously. "They can't know it was us for sure. And even if he did call the cops, they'd be too late."

"But what if they do find us? They aren't exactly after you!" Michael argued. Rachael sighed and looked into her review mirror.

"They're gonna want me. I'm harbouring a fugitive." Rachael said. Michael looked at her. He began to smile and then burst out into laughter. "What's so funny?" She asked. Michael just shook his head still laughing at what she said.

"We're so fuckin' screwed." He said. Rachael went serious, but then gave in. The sudden rush of adrenaline hit her like a thousand bricks. She nodded and manically went red.

"Yes, Mike. Yes we are." She giggled. She never thought about it til now, but Michael had a very piculiar laugh. It was like a kindergarten child learning his ABC's amd thinking; You talk funny. She's never laughed so hard in her life. Never could she remember a time where she did. Apart from the time her father tickled her so hard under the arms that she had a five hour stitch. What was she going to do now, she was on her way to six months in juvenile hall for kidnapping Michael and assaulting a man who tried to rape him. It was just too much to take in for the long haul. And if she ever did go back to Brisbane, nobody would give her the time of day to let her tell the right story.

'Well, you see, it was Michael's fault. Had he not run off to the train station, I would've have stumbled onto the scene of his almost near rape. The least I could do for a friend who's always made me giggle whilst takin' the piss out of my day, innit?' she thought sarcastically. Was she that screwed for when she returned. What if she couldn't even find Luke... She'd never even told Michael that she spoke to him. But, did that matter. Michael didn't have a private life, so it shouldn't have mattered if she spoken to his apparent lover. 

Michael fell asleep after a few hours of singing to the radio. It was a long dirt road from Twin Town to Dundee. Only nine more hours away from Luke, but come five more hours, she'd be sleeping in the nearest motel. But, she couldn't use her Aunts' credit card. What if the police were tracking her? This could be a long trip. And if it came to it, they would sleep in the old beaten, rickety shit box she called a car.

She yawned, over ahead were cattle and lightening. It had been so hot the past few days that mother nature decided it was best to strike back with a vegeance. Water! Michael awoke with a jerk. The thunder up ahead had frightenned him, his eyes went entirely wide. His pupils dialated.

"I'm up!" he shouted. Rachael turned and looked at him, she put her hand on his head.

"Hey, it's okay. It's just the storm." She announced. Supposebly that made it all better, perhaps. Michael sat up straight and looked out the windshield, he squinted. 

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Somewhere between Dundee and Capriconia Wells. But, if we stay on this track, we should be in Sydney by tomorrow afternoon. Michael looked at the GPS, he could see all the symbols, knife and fork to represent resteruants. Park benches to represent national parks. And beds to represent-- 

"There's a motel about a kilometre from here. We should stop there. Get warm." he said. Rachael nodded and pulled into a cross roads. She looked left and right.

"Fine, but remember where the crossroads were. Because, I have a terrible memory." She said. Michael licked his dry lips, they cracked at the force of hydration. He could feel the skin peeling off them. He needed food and water badly. All that Pepsi did was make him need to use the toilet. Thankfully, Rachael wasnt an easily disgusted person, and let Michael urinate into one of the bottles at his feet. So long that he emptied it when they made a next stop. The drive took a toll on Michael, he'd never been in so many places other than when he moved five months ago. But, even then most the time he was asleep with earphones in. His iPod was his biggest peace of mind he had at that point in time. Thank god for Rachael, she could've never spoken to Michael again after he mocked her poetry. But, loyalty is what it is. Even when most of the girls who dissaproved of Michael tried to tell Rachael being around him was social suicide, she turned a blind eye on them. She didn't care much for school yard politics, Those who dictated the ways of the school playground were stupid and stuck in a place where cheerleaders are forever remembered for being pretty and slutty, although celibate for those who thought otherwise. Rachael was a good friend, and it was for this Michael was entirely thankful. He probably would've been beaten and killed after being raped by the man at the station. Six feet under with tattered clothes and soiled body. Or would the man choose to chop him up into little pieces and feed him to the fishies. He gulped at this thought and put total confidence into Rachael's presence, after all, she was the one driving.