Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,71
she asked after a while.
“I can’t really tell you. It’s better if I don’t. Not that I don’t trust you.”
“No, it’s alright. I understand.”
“It’s a place we talked about, Spider and me. Even though he’s locked up at the moment, I’m going to keep heading there. I’m going to do it on my own, and I think, I believe, he’ll meet me there. Somehow, he’ll make it.”
“I hope he does, Jem. I’ll be rooting for you.” We walked a little way farther, then she said, “That’s the canal there. If you go over that stile, there’s a bridge on the other side. Cross over, and then follow the path left and you’ll be on the towpath. It’ll go all the way to Bath. ‘Bout twelve miles. I’d better take Ray back — they’ll all be getting up soon.”
So this was it, the place where we were going to say good-bye.
“Thanks,” I said, and I really meant it.
“No problem.” She turned her head away, looking toward the canal. “Good luck, Jem. I’ll always remember you. It’s been well cool.”
I kind of wanted to reach out to her, but I didn’t know how to do it without it being embarrassing. I think she felt the same, and we both stood with our hands by our sides looking at the ground, until it just felt silly and pointless. Then I nodded to her, tried to catch her eye.
“Better get going,” I said. “I’ll remember you, too, Britney.” And I walked down the path and over to the stile.
As I climbed over, I looked back. She hadn’t moved, was just watching me go. I waved, and she waved back, and it felt good, having someone saying good-bye properly, not just leaving without anyone knowing. She kept her hand up for a second, then called her dog and turned away. I jumped down from the stile and, hitching up the bag on my back, walked over the bridge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The towpath made everything simpler. There was one way to the next place and I didn’t need to make any decisions or choices, just keep walking. With Spider busted, I knew now that it was a question of when, and not if, I’d be picked up, too. To be honest, I felt pretty calm about it all. The worst had happened already — losing Spider, being left sleeping outside in the middle of nowhere, being left without money. And I’d survived the first twelve hours. Well, I’d done better than survive: I’d made a friend. How cool was that?
I walked all day, past handfuls of boats, little knots of houses. There were joggers pounding along the flat path, and people on bikes. I just ignored them, head down, putting one foot in front of the other, no eye contact.
Funny, it was probably the first day I’d walked the whole time, not hiding out and resting. I guess all the emotion and not eating much was catching up with me and I was in pretty poor shape, but I kept going. I was like a zombie, too tired and numb to think much anymore, just following the track, on and on. It was so much easier walking with a backpack. Jesus, Spider and I had made things difficult for ourselves — grabbing whatever we could get our hands on, cramming it into plastic bags. What a pair of retards. My eyes started stinging just thinking about him. Where was he? What were they doing to him now? The only way I could cope was to keep going, one foot in front of the other, on and on, heading west.
I could tell I was getting near to the city when the towpath started getting busy: There were family groups; kids on bikes or scampering along with their dogs; older couples arm in arm, enjoying a Saturday afternoon stroll in the winter sunshine. Eyes down, I still picked up on their wariness, the mothers shepherding the kids away.
One little tot blundered into my legs and stood staring up at me. I almost felt my hair stand on end. This little thing looked right into my face, with big, brown, trusting eyes and two trails of snot coming out of his nose. 04032053. He was going to die in his forties, this kid with no idea what death was yet.
I sidestepped, my legs shrugging off his sticky grasp, and pressed on, while behind me his parents scolded him gently in a “don’t you just love him?” kind of way. Two minutes