They Will Run You Down

Eleven: Can't Catch Me

John and Harley woke early the next morning feeling less than refreshed. What with the night time screamers and the hard, lumpy ground for a mattress, neither of them got much sleep.

But regardless of how they felt, the pair packed up their things and trudged out of the bush to the road, onward toward Wudinna.

The morning was bright, but not too hot as they walked down the long, never ending stretch of highway. Harley strummed thoughtfully on the colorful acoustic guitar she'd decided to bring along for the ride, despite John's insisting that it served no purpose and therefore shouldn't be brought along.

Harley would never admit it, but part of the reason she decided to keep the guitar had to do with John telling her that she shouldn't.

John really didn't care either way, as long as he didn't have to carry it.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Harley?" John queried, keeping his gaze locked on the open road in front of him.

Harley pulled the beak of her cap down a little to shade her eyes from the sun while she strummed the guitar strings and explored the frets, "Depends on what it is"

"Well, I'm curious how you ended up in foster care?" John spoke, worried Harley might shut him down right there.

Harley plucked a couple more strings, her eyes fixed on her instrument, "Mom was a junkie . . and a prostitute"

"What about Dad?" John prodded.

Harley shrugged, "Never knew him. Probably just one of her customers"

John took a breath, "Did you have any siblings?"

"I dunno, probably, I mean, she was a hooker," Harley noted nonchalantly.

John looked at the pavement by his feet while he walked, "How old were you when social services stepped in?"

"Around four"

"And you stayed in the system until you were eighteen?"

"Nah. Took off when I was fifteen. I was homeless for a while but it was better than the alternative. . Why do you want to know all this?" Harley questioned, peeling her eyes away from her guitar to look up at John.

He shrugged, "Because you're my friend"

Harley snorted derisively and dropped her gaze back to the guitar.

"So," John started, "Did you ever see your mum again?"

Harley strummed a few notes, "Yeah a couple times in those first few months. Last time I saw her she gave me this ugly little teddy bear with a crooked eye and a droopy head that always looked sad. She told me she was gonna get me back soon and I just had to wait a few more days. I waited but on our next scheduled visit she was a no show and then the one after that, and so on. God I hated that stupid bear but it didn't stop me from carrying it around everywhere I went for months or crying my face off when one of the older foster kids cut it up with a pair of scissors. . But yeah, I never heard from her or saw her after that," Harley shrugged passively.

John shook his head, "That's a lot of disappointment for a four year old"

"That's just the world, mate. Disappointment then we die," Harley said, then dramatically strummed all of the strings on her guitar at once.

Just as John was about to dispute Harley's last statement, there came a sound from behind them in the trees.

Both whipped around in unison to see a single, shrieking Screamer trampling out of the bush, its clothes tattered and skin a grey-ish green.