TTHHEE  PPRRIISSOONNEERR

Part 5

Roy squirmed in his seat at the Acapulco police department. He had been made to wait all morning and into the late-afternoon to see the police chief. He had kept asking if there was any news yet regarding Johnny’s case, and was continually told they were still working on it.

Finally, at four-thirty that afternoon, Eduardo Cortez stepped out of his office and invited Roy in. Roy listened carefully as the Chief explained all the circumstances. The more he explained, the more excited Roy became, because it looked as if they were going to drop the charges against Johnny.

It seemed that the fingerprints that had been found on Johnny’s bag matched the ones on the suitcase full of heroin. The two sets of prints did indeed belong to two of the more notorious and evasive drug dealers; two wanted men who had managed to avoid capture for over a year. The ceiling of the airport bathroom had been investigated, and both the airport security guards and Mr. Zapata were questioned as well. That had taken all morning and into the afternoon. Further investigation on the part of Mr. Cortez revealed a history about Johnny and his background. After all the facts were in, all evidence pointed in the direction of Johnny’s innocence. The next step was to take all the evidence to the judge, and let him make a final decision on it.

Roy was ecstatic. Giddy with excitement, Roy raced back to his hotel room to call Joanne and give her the news. Her happiness matched Roy’s, and she told him she would wait as long as it took until he was able to bring Johnny home. Joanne offered to call Station 51 and give the guys the good news, and update Captain Stanley on when her husband might be returning. Mutual ‘I love yous’ were said before the good-byes, then Roy happily hung up the phone.

Roy had suddenly realized that he was ravenously hungry, and found a small restaurant nearby to have dinner. Roy ordered a cerveza in celebration of the day’s happenings, and silently toasted his friend. As he raised his beer bottle to himself, he quietly thought, Johnny, it won’t be long. You’ll be out of that hell and back home before you know it. I can’t wait to tell you! He gulped it down, and dug into his dinner at speeds that would have put Johnny to shame.

Full and content, Roy enjoyed the sweet balmy night air as he walked back to his hotel room. Spying some open stores along the way, Roy decided to stop in and buy something pretty, some little souvenir for Joanne. She deserved it, for Roy knew how lucky he was to have such a wonderful and understanding woman for his wife.

Roy pulled the necklace out of the bag and examined it in his hotel room. Yeah, Joanne was gonna love this. The beautiful birthstone sparkled from the end of the silver chain. Carefully, he slid it back into the small bag and prepared for bed. For the first time in a long time, Roy slept peacefully.

Roy was too anxious to wait around in Acapulco any longer. He had a confident feeling that this time, there would be no roadblocks. After checking in with Mr. Cortez, Roy informed him that he was going to drive on to Mexico City to see Johnny at the jail. That way, Johnny wouldn’t have to stay in prison a moment longer than he had to after his release. Mr. Cortez told Roy he would call the El Reclusio Norte as soon as he got a decision from the judge. With that, Roy hopped into his pickup and headed east.

He had a lot of time to think as he was driving, and the one thought that burned into him with searing discomfort was the fact that he should have done this months ago. Guilt quickly spread over him as he realized that he might have been able to save Johnny a lot of physical and emotional pain if he had only done this sooner. As he began to analyze his behavior, self-incriminating thoughts nearly paralyzed him. What kind of friend was I? What did I really do to help him? Another voice answered. You did a lot. You raised money to pay for his house and his aunt, you came to see him twice. You talked to attorneys and the police, the American Embassy, and Mexican authorities trying to find some way to get out. There just wasn’t anything you could do. The first voice countered. You didn’t raise money for his house. That wasn’t even your idea. Mostly, you just sat on your hands, too afraid to face what was happening to your friend. Yeah, you went down to see him, but then you practically accused him for being responsible for what was happening to him. When things got tough, you couldn’t hack it. You offered him almost no support. The death of Joanne’s father was a convenient distraction to take your mind off things. You thought if you forgot about it, it would go away. Well, Johnny’s not gonna be able to forget what happened to him; he’s gonna have to deal with it the rest of his life. Roy suddenly felt a sick nausea in his stomach. God, Junior, I feel like I failed you. I feel like it’s my fault you spent all those months in prison. And damn Barney! He didn’t do shit to help us! I shouldn’t have accepted his explanation that there was nothing we could do. I should have hired a private investigator or something – anything, other than what I did. Roy stepped on the accelerator a little more forcefully, anxious to get to the prison. He had to get Johnny out of there – now, before anything else bad happened to him. The trouble was, Roy had no idea of exactly what had happened to his friend since he had last seen him. He wondered if Johnny was even still alive.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  “Mmmm,” Johnny wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned back in his chair. “Willa, that was incredible!” He reached out and took a drink of his milk. “Man, I haven’t eaten anything that tasted that good in months – no, years!”

Willa smiled self-consciously and got up to put Johnny’s plate in the sink.

“Boy, your husband was one lucky man while he was alive,” Johnny had assumed that Willa was a widow.

A scowl came across her face at his comment and she mumbled, “Yeah, now I’m the lucky one, now that he’s dead.”

Johnny frowned as he didn’t quite understand what she said; he thought she said she was lucky now. He must not have heard her correctly. “What, Willa?”

“Nothin’,” she grumped. Turning, she asked, “Well, did ya save any room for my apple pie?”

Johnny’s eyes grew wide. “Apple pie? You made a pie?”

“Uh huh. Warren says mine’s the best he’s ever tasted.” She showed him the pie.

“Oh, man!” he grinned widely. “I’d love a piece. Thanks!”

Willa proceeded to cut him a piece, which he managed to inhale in less than two minutes. When he was finished, he leaned back once more and rubbed his stomach, sighing contentedly. He regarded Willa for a moment as she ate hers. “Willa?”

She looked up at him.

“I was just wondering somethin’; I hope you don’t mind me asking. Uh, why…are you bein’ so nice to me? I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful – I am grateful, don’t misunderstand; it’s just that…well, up until about five days ago you didn’t even know me. I was just some bum that wandered onto your property, and you just…I….well, I can’t believe how gracious you’ve been to me. You took me into your home, got me a doctor, fed me, I mean…well, I’m just kinda overwhelmed at your generosity.”

Willa lowered her eyes; they were misty and self-conscious under his scrutiny. “Well, I guess you could say you…remind me a little bit of my son; and anyway, I could tell you were a decent young man, despite what you looked like when you showed up. Besides,” she added quickly, “I couldn’t just let you get sick and die in m’barn, now could I?”

Johnny smiled at her. “No, I guess not,” he said affectionately. “But….I want to thank you, just the same.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” she said crisply. “Now, I’ve got to get to these dishes.” She turned to pick up another plate.

Johnny stood up abruptly. “Oh, no you don’t.” He gestured to himself. “I’ll do them. You go sit down and relax.”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “A man doin’ dishes? Ain’t no man ever done any dishes in this house. Besides, you shouldn’t be strainin’ your arm.”

Johnny came up behind her and gave her a little push away from the sink. He guided her out the door. “My arm’s fine; and I’m used to doin’ dishes. I do ‘em all the time at the station hou – ; I mean, I used to do ‘em all the time.” He continued to push her into the living room. “Now you go on; I’ll finish in here.”

“Well,” she looked back at him reluctantly, then finally decided to stay where she was, muttering, “A man’s gonna do my dishes. Well, I’ll be.” She went out to the porch to enjoy the evening.

Twenty minutes later, Johnny had finished, and he joined her outside. He found her on the porch swing, and was surprised to see her having a drink, some sort of amber liquid that looked like whisky. He sat down next to her on the swing.

She looked up at him. Lifting her drink slightly, she asked, “Want one?”

He shook his head. “No thanks; I can’t with the medication the doc gave me.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, help yourself to anything else if you want it.”

“Thanks, Willa; I don’t need anything else right now.”

They sat together quietly for a while, Willa sipping her drink and Johnny gazing out onto the horizon. The sun was setting for the day, and it had finally started to cool down. The sky was turning a pale gray-blue; wispy white clouds hovered way up high.

“Hey, Willa? Where the hell, uh, I mean, where the heck am I?”

She turned to him, a look of surprise on her face. “You got amnesia or somethin’?”

He laughed. “No. I mean, where is this place? I don’t even know what state I’m in, much less what town. I think I’m in New Mexico, but I’m not even sure.”

“You’re right. You’re in New Mexico, and this little area is called Sunshine; or at least, it used to be. I don’t even think we’re on the map any more. Most everyone’s left; we’re more or less a ghost town now, except for a small handful of us.”

“Sunshine, huh? Sunshine,” he said to himself. How appropriate. “I like that.” He thought a moment longer. “So, I guess I must be pretty far south. What’s north of here? Can you tell me where the roads lead to? Any towns near by?”

“Yep, there’s a larger town not too far north of here called Deming; that’s where I go to get groceries and pick up my sewing and that sort of business.” She pointed out to a dusty dirt road that led off her property. “You take that out to the west, and it’ll take you out to route eleven. That runs north and south. If you go north, you’ll run into interstate ten. That’ll take you east and west. North of ten there ain’t much, but there’s some mountains and streams northwest of there.”

Johnny nodded contemplatively.

“Why? You thinkin’ about leavin’?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I can’t stay here much longer, Willa. I gotta move on; I’m afraid they’ll come looking for me before too long. I’m still pretty close to the border. Besides, I’ve been a burden to you long enough.”

Willa looked disappointed. “You ain’t no burden. It’s been nice having company. You’re welcome to stay.”

Johnny smiled sadly. “Thanks. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave? I’m pretty handy. I feel like I’d like to repay you for your kindness.”

Willa brightened, happy at having an excuse to keep her visitor there a little longer. “Well, if you’re handy, that fence out there could sure use some mending. And, hey, you know anything about roofs? Mine’s been leakin’ lately whenever it storms bad, which ain’t very often, but still…”

“Willa, it’d be no problem. I’ll be happy to do both things for you, and anything else you can think of.”

“Well, that’d just be dandy. How’d you learn to be so handy? Ha! That rhymes!” The alcohol was making her silly.

Johnny smiled in amusement. “I grew up on a ranch. I used to help my dad with all sorts of things.”

“Where do your folks live?” Her face turned serious. “Do they know what happened to you?”

Johnny looked down. Wistfully, he said, “No, they don’t. They…they’re not around any more; they both died when I was about twelve.”

Willa’s eyes grew wide and sorrowful. “Oh, lord. I’m sorry. You poor boy, losing your parents when you was so young.”

Johnny shook his head. “Thanks. It’s okay; it was a long time ago.” He looked skyward. “Been about fifteen years now, I guess.” Man, fifteen years. I can’t believe that much time has gone by. Seems like just yesterday…

“Got any siblings?”

A deeper sadness spread over Johnny’s face. “I had a brother, but he died when I was a kid, in a fire.”

Willa put her hand to her forehead. “Oh my. Oh, you poor thing. And you don’t have no wife either?”

“No, not yet,” he smiled briefly. Not ever, now.

“My, oh my,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, I guess you and I are just two lost souls, two peas in the same pod.” She drained her glass and set it down on the porch.

Johnny glanced over at her. “Willa, you mind if I ask…what happened to your son, and your husband?”

Her expression grew somber. “I s’pose I could tell you.” She gathered her thoughts a moment, then the buzz of the alcohol caused her to throw caution to the wind. “Well, my husband, he was a no-good, good for nothin’ low-life. ‘Course, I didn’t see that when I was sixteen; that’s when we was married. I was a stupid young thing. Well, he knocked me up, and so we got married. My son’s name was Kenny. A few years after he was born, Luke, that was my husband, started beatin’ me.”

Johnny looked mortified.

“Oh, it started off where he’d get mad about something and start cussin’ me out, but then later he started hittin’ me. As the years went by, it just got worse. Then, he started hittin’ Kenny.” She shook her head; her eyes were full of sorrow. “It just about killed me when he laid a hand on my boy,” Willa sniffed slightly, then went on. “Well, Kenny grew up, and about the time he was sixteen, we started seein’ that Kenny, well, he was different, you know? Special. But Luke didn’t think so.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed at her remark. What did she mean by ‘different’? He elected to keep quiet while she told her story.

“Luke found out, and when he did, he beat Kenny bad – almost killed him.” Willa looked down into her lap, on the verge of tears. “See, one night Luke found Kenny with another boy…”

Johnny nodded in comprehension. Now he understood. Seeing how hard this was for Willa, he put his arm around behind her. “Willa, you don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sniffled. “Luke made my boy’s life a living hell after that. One night me and Luke was havin’ a terrible argument, and he started beatin’ me again. Well, I guess Kenny just couldn’t take seein’ his daddy beat his momma any more, and couldn’t stand for being beaten himself either. See, Kenny never stood up to Luke before that, he was afraid. He never wanted to go against his daddy. But that night, I guess it was too much for ‘im. Kenny…pulled Luke off me that night, and…and he killed him. It was an accident, but…he killed ‘im.”

Johnny looked over at Willa; her jaw was set; her eyes seeing a memory of long ago. Johnny was speechless; and up until a few months ago, he wouldn’t have been able to comprehend that kind of violence against another human being. But now, at this moment, he thought he understood, at least to a partial extent, what Willa had gone through. Almost imperceptibly, he pulled Willa a bit closer, squeezing her shoulder gently.

Now, Willa started to crumble. Tears were building up in her eyes. “They…put my boy in jail for that. Gave him life. Even though he was just defending me. The judge said there wasn’t no witnesses other than me, and he and Luke were friends.

Kenny went to prison. It was like…livin’ with a bunch of animals.”

Worse than animals, Johnny thought.

“He couldn’t survive in there, see; they found out about him, about his…secret. They made life worse for him in there than it was at home. Kenny, my baby, he used to beg me to get him out, to take him home, but there was nothin’ I could do. He was in the hands of the law.” Willa reached up and brushed a tear away from her face. “’Bout three months later, they come by one day to tell me…that Kenny was dead. They killed ‘im, them inmates, in cold blood. They…violated my boy, then they killed ‘im.” Tears were streaming down Willa’s face now.

Johnny pulled her close and held her, his own emotions from remembering the past eight months rising painfully to the surface. Although Johnny wasn’t gay, he understood exactly what her son had gone through. He knew what it was like, and he had to mentally shake himself to not let those visions devastate him right now. Hearing Willa talk about it was starting to make him feel very tense, and the memories were now threatening to break out, like reopening a fresh wound. He wanted desperately to jump out of his seat and run, but he couldn’t. Here was this kind woman who had taken him in and saved his life, and she needed her own emotional support right now; he couldn’t just get up and leave. He had to put his own feelings aside and try to help her. Johnny felt tears threatening, and he clamped his jaw tightly shut, determined to get a hold of himself. Don’t think about it. Never think about it, he chanted to himself, and tried to distract his mind by analyzing the different colors in the sunset. He had to pull his mind away from what Willa had said for a moment, to get a grip on his own emotions. After a few minutes, he finally trusted his voice to speak. “I’m sorry, Willa. I’m so sorry.” It was all he could think of to say.

Willa took a deep breath and wiped her tears away with her blouse. Visibly calming herself, she blew out her breath. It seemed she had composed herself. “Thank you,” she said very softly. “I guess…now you know why I took you in. I knew….you could understand what had happened to Kenny. I knew…you’d been through it.”

No. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. Johnny closed his eyes.

“I just wanted to help you, since I couldn’t help my own boy.”

Johnny nodded mutely, suddenly feeling paralyzed. Please. Stop. Stop talking about it. He swallowed, trying to stop the feeling that his dinner was about to come up.

Whether Willa sensed it was too painful for him to talk about it, or perhaps because it became too painful for her, Johnny didn’t know. He was just glad that his silent wishes were answered, and the conversation ended with her last comment.

Johnny forced himself to concentrate on other things, and was finally able to relax. They sat in silence a long time after that, Johnny’s arm around the woman, swinging, watching the last little bit of sun as it dipped behind the rocky red horizon.

Later that night, just before he turned out the light, Johnny picked up the framed photograph of Willa’s son, the one resting on the dresser in the room in which he was sleeping. He had been quite a handsome young man, with dark hair and blue eyes. Johnny stared at it a long time, then finally set it down where he had found it, and climbed into bed. Bad dreams filled his night, consisting of bizarre combinations of the horrors he had experienced in prison and past firehouse incidents. The most frightening was the reliving of the rape, and everything was the same, with the exception that in addition to the inmates who had committed the ultimate atrocity on Johnny, all of his friends, Roy, Chet, Marco, Mike, and the Cap stood around him, watching, doing nothing to help him escape the assault. Johnny was thankful that his cries were soft that night, and not loud enough to wake Willa, only himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“He what?!” Roy exclaimed.

“He escaped.”

Roy repeated the word in disbelief. “Escaped.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Adolpho Gonzales, the warden at El Reclusio Norte, glanced down at the open folder on his desk. “A week ago…Thursday. Yes, that’s right.”

Roy was flabbergasted. “How?”

Mr. Gonzales took in a deep breath and began to explain their theory about the inmates climbing to the roof and jumping off into the trash truck.

“A trash truck?” This was too unbelievable. “He escaped in a trash truck.” It wasn’t a question; Roy was just repeating it to himself, trying to accept what the warden was telling him.

“Yes; quite ingenious of the preesoners, actually. It’s a shame they’re dead.”

Roy suddenly felt all the blood in his body rush to his head. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it swishing in his ears. No. It can’t be. Johnny can’t be dead. “Dead?” The words came out in a choked croak. “Are you saying – ”

Mr. Gonzales looked down once, then up. “My meestake, Señor DeSoto. I cannot confirm that your friend was keelled. I have a report from the border patrol that states all five men were shot. We were only able to locate four of the bodies however. Apparently, your friend was the only one that escaped. I suspect he ees somewhere een the states right now, eef he ees steell alive.”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat, and he gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in, white knuckled. Leaning forward, he asked, “You say all five men were shot?”

“Yes. The border patrol officer was quite sure all five were heet. He saw all of them fall. When they went to retrieve the bodies, Mr. Gage’s was meessing.”

Roy closed his eyes. He slumped slightly in his seat, releasing his grip on the armrests. Could he have gotten away? But if they shot him, he could have run, then collapsed and died somewhere. But they couldn’t find him! Maybe…is it possible… Roy opened his eyes and looked imploringly at Mr. Gonzales. “Did anyone conduct a search?”

Mr. Gonzales shook his head. “After the escape, we initiated a warrant for hees arrest, but since we believe heem to be een your country, we weel not cross the border to look for heem. We have noteefied the Amereecan authorities, but we don’t really expect to hear anytheeng from them. Now, after speaking weeth Mr. Cortez thees morning, eet appears your friend was eenocent. He ees no longer a wanted man.”

Roy was leery. “But what about his escape, and the driver of the truck? From what you said, he was abducted and tied up. Wouldn’t that warrant Johnny’s arrest?”

Gonzales shook his head. “The driver has already identified the man who abducted heem from a photograph. We are still looking for thees man. I suspect he ees out of the country as well. Your friend had nothing to do weeth that.” Gonzales crossed his fingers together and rested them across his belly. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “Believe eet or not, escaping from preeson in Mexico is not a crime.” Mr. Gonzales smiled at Roy. “We weel not be lookeeng for heem. As you say in Amereeca, ‘we have beeger feesh to fry.”

Roy stared at the man, trying to take it all in. His mind was in a whirl, thrilled that Johnny was no longer a wanted man, but devastated that his freedom might have come too late. He fought to think of any other questions he might have for the man, but was at a loss as to what to do next. He leaned forward, and in a desperate tone of voice said, “Mr. Gonzales, I have to find my friend.”

Mr. Gonzales shrugged. “I would suggest you conduct a search yourself. Eef he crossed eento Amereeca, then he entered at the New Mexico border.”

“The New Mexico border? Mr. Gonzales, that’s a long border. He could be anywhere. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Can you show me where they were when the border patrol found them?”

“Yes.” Gonzales got up and walked over to a map pinned onto the wall. Roy rose and stood by his side. “We are here.” Gonzales pointed. “Take thees road north, then turn northwest, here; continue on to the border. When you cross, talk to the agent there. Hees name is Miguel Santos. He weel be able to direct you to the area where your friend escaped. I suggest that from there you contact the authorities in New Mexico to see eef they have seen Mr. Gage, or eef…they have found a body.”

A body…oh God. Roy’s mouth went dry. That thought was one he wasn’t ready to deal with – would never be ready to deal with, though he knew it might be a possibility. Shoving that thought into the back of his mind, he decided it was time to leave, time to find his best friend. He knew he wouldn’t stop until he found Johnny, dead or alive. “Thank you, Mr. Gonzales. I….I’ve got to go.”

“You’re welcome. I weel call the agent and tell heem to expect you. Good luck.”

Roy nodded and left the office.

The intense heat of the sun hit him like a load of bricks the minute he walked outside, and he wondered how Johnny could possibly have survived in these temperatures        , on the run, bleeding from a gunshot wound. He envisioned him fleeing, somewhere in the desert, only to collapse from blood loss, where he would lay and die alone in the dirt, the animals taking care of his body long before anyone found it…

The thought made him sick. No! I won’t believe that. Johnny’s a survivor. He’s been able to beat death before, when no one thought he would. If he got far enough that he made it over the border, then I refuse to believe that he’s dead. He would have found some way to take care of himself – I know it. I feel it.

With fresh resolve, Roy climbed into his pickup and started the tedious journey north to find his friend.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Feeling better than he had in days, Johnny was up early the next morning. The nightmare had shaken him, but he was determined to put it behind him. Not thinking about it was his solution, and every time he did, he forced himself to concentrate on something else to purge it from his mind. The little cocoons he’d formed while in prison were where he wanted to keep all those memories.

Having found the needed tools in the carriage house, Johnny set to work repairing Willa’s wooden fence. He wanted to get started on it before the day became too hot. Willa appeared around eight thirty that morning with coffee and breakfast for Johnny, which he ate while he worked. By noon, a good portion of the fence had been repaired, and seeing how hot he was, Willa invited him in for lunch.

The thermometer rose to a blistering one hundred and five that day. Deciding the heat was too intense to continue, Johnny found other things to do inside. Johnny had noticed that some of the old wiring in the pre-depression house was charred and frayed, and in need of repair or replacement. He made a list of items he needed, and sent Willa into town to pick up the various outlets, switches, and wiring he would need. For the next three hours, Johnny worked on replacing various switches and outlets, some that hadn’t worked for years. That had opened a can of worms, with Johnny’s discovery that Willa’s circuit breaker box needed to be replaced to bring it up to safety standards. Another trip into town was in order, and with a specific list of parts and items needed, Willa visited an electrical supply store to get the necessary parts.

Johnny worked on the wiring until late in the afternoon, after which time he headed back outdoors to continue mending the fence. At eight o’clock, Willa coaxed him inside for dinner, after which, he collapsed exhausted into bed.

Johnny again rose early the next day to get a start on the fence. He completed it just before noon, and spent the afternoon working on the wiring. A day similar to the one before it, Johnny was in bed and asleep by nine o’clock that night. The following day, he finally finished the wiring, and prepared to work on Willa’s roof the next.

Willa was thrilled not only to have a man around to fix all the things that she was unable to take care of, but also for Johnny’s company. They seemed to click well together, and struck up many interesting conversations during the days. Once Willa had noticed John continually brushing his hair from his face, which had grown quite long, so she offered to cut it. Thinking it might not be a bad idea, and also that it would change his look, Johnny agreed, and she cut his hair shorter. “Just don’t cut it above my ears,” had been his only request. Following the lines from the last haircut he had had, she trimmed it nicely; it looked much like it did a couple years ago when he wore it slightly shorter than now.

The few days they spent together grew into a comfortable companionship. Johnny spent the days doing chores for Willa, and in the evenings, they usually talked on the front porch, getting to know each other better.

She hadn’t realized how lonely she had been all these years until Johnny showed up. She found him to be not only silly and quirky with a wry sense of humor, but also one of the most polite and thoughtful young men she had ever known. She tried not to think about the time that he would leave, or how attached she was getting to him, as she once again drove into town to purchase new shingles for her house.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roy arrived at the New Mexico border and showed his passport and necessary identification, but instead of driving on through to enter the United States, he pulled over and stepped out of his truck to speak with the border agents.

They remembered the escapees well, and described in detail to Roy exactly what had happened. They told him that because of the storm that night, they were unable to determine where Johnny had been shot, only that he had fallen, and when they went to retrieve him, he was gone. Roy asked for information on exactly where Johnny had crossed the border, if indeed he had, which every indication showed he did. They were able to give Roy a fairly accurate description of where that had been, so that he could begin his search. After obtaining as much information as he deemed possible, Roy crossed over into the United States. Once over the border, a strange feeling of relief overcame him, and he thought he understood how Johnny must have felt when he crossed.

Envisioning his partner climbing the barbed-wire fence at night and in the rain, wounded and bleeding, then feeling the earth beneath his feet as he touched down on American soil, Roy imagined it must have been both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

So where had Johnny gone from there? What would he have done? Think, DeSoto; what would you have done? What direction would I have headed? Well, north, probably. Would he have looked for a road to follow? I doubt it; I wouldn’t have. I would have tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible. God, where is he? He could be anywhere.

Roy scrutinized the barren road and the desolate landscape around it. He didn’t think his truck would make it if he drove off the pavement through the rough terrain looking for Johnny. I need help. Roy pulled out his road map to see where he was. There was a small town about thirty five miles north of where he was. He decided that would be his destination. Maybe he could get the police involved in a search there. Roy didn’t know if it was a large enough town to warrant a helicopter search, but he knew he had to try something.

Roy drove north on route eleven, covering the short distance to Deming in under an hour. The scenery was quite beautiful, desolate and barren at times, but stunning at others. The intense heat created illusions of moving waves across the red rocky landscape, giving it a surreal look. He kept his eyes peeled at all times, not really expecting to find anything, but scouring the area just the same. There was nothing around for miles; he didn’t see a house or a farm, nothing, not even a single automobile passed him until he neared Deming.

Once in the town, he inquired as to where the police station was, and from there Roy began his story about his missing friend, first introducing himself as a Los Angeles County fireman/paramedic and rescue man.

The sheriff’s name was Tom Hicks, and he and Roy clicked immediately. Roy spent most of the afternoon going over the details of Johnny’s incarceration the last eight months, and supplying him with a multitude of information about his friend. After a lengthy phone call to authorities in Mexico, and to the LA Fire Department, the sheriff confirmed Roy’s story, and put out an APB on Johnny. Tom made photocopies of the only photograph Roy had with him of Johnny, one that he carried in his wallet where the two of them were standing in front of the old engine. Cutting Roy from the photograph, he enlarged it so that Johnny’s face was more visible.

Roy was anxious to start searching for Johnny, and Tom informed him of a handful of isolated residences about ten miles south of where they were. He explained that had Roy not known where to look, he would have missed the dirt roads leading to their houses. There were maybe fifteen or twenty residences scattered around in off the beaten path places from the main road. At least it was a place to start. In the meantime, Tom Hicks would circulate Johnny’s picture in town and begin questioning the residents. They had no helicopter for a search, but he promised Roy that he would send out some of his officers in their cruisers to look. They also had a small group of men who were volunteers to do occasional search and rescue operations using all-terrain vehicles. They could search the areas just north of the border to look for any signs that Johnny may have passed through – or – where he might have collapsed. Tom would then start the process of circulating information about Johnny to other towns nearby, developing a network of people to help in the search.

By evening, Johnny’s photograph was plastered all over the city, with the heading “Missing” boldly written across the top. Being that it was so late, Roy was only able to stop at two residences before he had to call it quits on the search for the day. He just wasn’t able to see well enough to find the roads after dark. He had headed back to town discouraged; the first residents he had talked to had not seen Johnny, and no one had been home at the second house. Roy climbed into bed that night feeling hopeful that his best friend would be found soon, thankful for the newfound help he was getting.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Johnny saw it before he heard it; the cloud of dust billowing into the air made by a rapidly traveling vehicle over the dusty road was unmistakable. Kneeling on the roof, Johnny squinted and used his hand to shade his eyes to better see what was coming down the path a half-mile away. With sudden alarm, he clamored to the edge of the roof and flew down the ladder, his heart pounding. Not having time to hide the ladder or the stacks of shingles lying on the ground, he ran for the house and saw Willa as she stood at the front entrance, craning to see out the wooden screen door.

Johnny was breathing heavily and had a look of total panic on his face as he burst in the door. “Somebody’s coming, Willa.” Johnny looked at a loss for what to do. “I’m gonna have to hide somewhere.”

“I know it.” She looked around, then back out the front door. The car was now coming down the long dirt road toward their house. “Just go in the bedroom. I won’t let anyone in.” She strained to see. “It doesn’t look like the police.”

Johnny ran to the bedroom and shut the door. Then, after thinking a moment, he opened it back up. No, don’t close it. That’ll draw someone’s attention. If they’re looking for me, they’ll wonder why the bedroom door is shut. He ran to the closet instead. Stepping inside, he pulled the door closed and ducked behind some clothes. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. As he sat crouched behind some old boxes and ladies’ dresses, he shook his head to himself. This is insane. I can’t live this way, hiding, every time I hear a car coming, being afraid all the time. What am I gonna do? Then he thought about the telltale ladder and the shingles, and wondered what Willa would tell whomever it was coming up the drive. Surely they wouldn’t believe that she was working on the roof.

A few very tense minutes later, Johnny nearly fainted when the closet door swung open.

“You can come out,” Willa’s voice reassured. “It’s just the doc.”

Johnny released a huge sigh and climbed out. Willa started laughing when she noticed the brassiere draped over Johnny’s shoulder, and reached to remove it. Embarrassed, he looked down, then smiled up at her sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Johnny stepped out into the living room with Willa and greeted the doctor.

“Hello, John,” Dr. Balthaser said jovially. “How’s the arm?”

Johnny nodded. “Much better, thanks to you, doc.”

“Let’s take a look.” Balthaser moved toward Johnny and began removing his bandage. He examined the wound a few moments, then said, “Well, it’s not very pretty, but it certainly looks better. You been taking the antibiotics?”

“Sure have, doc.”

“Good. Good.”

“Why don’t you two sit down, and I’ll get some lemonade,” Willa suggested.

“That sounds wonderful, Willa, thank you.” The doctor took a seat, followed by Johnny, who had to admit that a cool drink would feel wonderful to ease his parched throat.

“Well, I see you’ve been busy around here, John. I guess Willa’s put you to work.”

Johnny chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’ve gotta earn my keep somehow.” He looked down, shaking his head. “Willa’s been great to me. She’s a fantastic lady. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

Warren looked toward the kitchen, then replied, “She’s a lonely woman. I sure appreciate you helping her out.”

“It’s been my pleasure, doc.”

“How’s the roof coming? I would have done the work myself, but I’m too old to be climbing up on housetops anymore.”

“It’s coming. I’m nearly done with it. If I can get back to work, I should have it done in another hour or so.”

Warren looked at his watch. Well, it’s near supper time, so it’ll be cooling off some.”

“Yeah,” Johnny joked, “if you consider ninety degrees cooling off.”

Warren took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. “You got that right.”

Willa appeared with a tray holding three glasses of lemonade. “Here ya are, boys.” She took a seat and sipped her drink. “So, Warren, what brings you by? Wanted to check on Johnny’s arm?”

Warren’s face grew serious. “Yes, I did. But that’s not the only reason.” He looked worried.

“What is it?” Willa asked.

Warren licked his lower lip and sighed. “Well, I thought I’d better come by and tell you…they’re looking for your young friend here.”

Johnny nearly choked on his lemonade. “What? Who’s looking for me?” he asked in alarm.

“The Sheriff, I’m afraid, up in Deming. They’ve got your picture posted all over town.”

Johnny’s eyes grew wide, and he suddenly felt short of breath. “Oh, no.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around the room. Almost to himself, he said, “They are looking for me. I thought maybe…they’re gonna find me and make me go back.”

Willa got up from her chair and went to sit next to him on the sofa. “Now don’t you worry. They’re not gonna find you. You can stay here ‘till all this blows over. Jus’ stay out of sight. If they come to my door, I’ll just tell ‘em I haven’t seen ya, that’s all.”

Johnny looked very uncertain. “I don’t know, Willa. I think maybe I should leave. I don’t want you to get into trouble hiding me. What if they get a search warrant?”

“A search warrant? Now why would they go and do that? Now you listen here. I know the sheriff, and if I tell him you’re not here, then he won’t bother me any further. I’ve lived here a long time, and my momma and daddy lived here before me. The townspeople know me here and they would believe me if I say I haven’t seen you.”

“She’s right, son. You’d be best to just stay right where you are.”

Johnny looked at them both, still very hesitant. He wasn’t sure what to do. He had to think. He glanced out the window, noticing the ladder propped up, and decided he’d better get the roof done and get rid of the ladder. “I’ll think about it.” Resting his eyes on the doctor, he said very sincerely, “Thanks, doc. I really owe you, and you too, Willa. Listen, I’d better get back to that roof and get it done.” Nervous energy caused him to stand up abruptly.

“Well, I’ve got to go too,” Warren said. My sister’s invited me over for dinner.” He passed Johnny on the way out, patting him on the back. “Don’t you worry. Everything will work out. They won’t find you.”

Johnny followed him out. “Thanks again, doc.” With that, he climbed back up the ladder.

He got the roof done in record time, and finished in time for dinner. He stored the ladder back in the carriage house and put away all the tools. During dinner, he sat chewing quietly, contemplating his dilemma. Willa kept coming up with reasons to stay, during which Johnny nodded politely. It didn’t matter. By the time they were through eating, Johnny had made his decision.

Using exhaustion as his excuse, Johnny retired early. He was in bed by eight thirty; the sun still hadn’t set when his head hit the pillow. He set a mental alarm clock to awaken himself at three a.m., which is when he planned to leave. He wanted to get a good start and walk during the night when he wouldn’t be visible. He figured he could be well north of Deming before dawn, and from there, he would head north, which is where he thought Willa had told him were the Mogollon and Mimbres Mountains. If he could make it there, he was sure he could lose himself. It was unnerving since he had no idea what this mountainous area was like, but he was determined that he could survive. By nature he was a rugged person, used to camping and finding food in the wilderness. There was really no choice. He had to leave.

He wrote the note before he went to sleep, thanking Willa for everything, and explaining why he had to leave. He simply couldn’t take the chance that they would find him here, and he was certain that eventually, they would. He also didn’t want Willa to get into any trouble. If they found out she was harboring a fugitive, she could be arrested too. Doctor Balthaser faced a similar danger. Eventually they would piece together how the doctor had helped Johnny by treating his arm, and then his career would be in peril. He simply refused to be the cause of another person’s trouble, especially since that person had saved his life. No, the past few weeks had been a Godsend, but now the game was up.

He awoke at a quarter ‘till three, and was instantly a bundle of nerves. The house was stone quiet as he stealthily dressed and tiptoed out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Risking Willa hearing him, he crept into the kitchen and put a sandwich together for himself, and found a plastic container and filled it with water. Loading it all into a small plastic bag, he left the kitchen and headed toward the front door. He felt badly that he wasn’t able to offer Willa proper good-bye, but he was afraid she would try to talk him out of leaving, and felt it was better this way. Forlornly, he looked around one last time, then opened the front door and stepped out into the night.

A soft breeze was blowing; it had cooled to about eighty degrees, and soft wispy clouds fluttered by the crescent moon. The only noise he heard was the soft chirping of the crickets. He set off on his journey, then, turning back a second, whispered, “Good-bye Willa. Thank you.”

Soon the house was so far in the distance that it was no longer visible. He followed the dirt road north, but stayed far enough away from it so as not to be seen. Walking briskly, he made good time, and a few hours later the faint city lights of Deming glowed in the distance. He made a wide circle of the city, avoiding coming too close, and sometime just before dawn, he had skirted the city and had a view of the interstate in front of him.

Observing it from a distance, he scrutinized it to see how many cars were out at this hour. After two whole minutes of not seeing a single vehicle, he cautiously approached the highway. Off in the distance he saw headlights and nearly panicked. Too close now to run, he flattened himself on a dip in the ground and waited for it to pass. Peeking up as the car whizzed by, he was relieved to see it was just a pickup truck. When its tail lights diminished to a pinpoint of red, he stood once more, and when he was sure no cars were on the horizon, he bolted across and kept running.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roy got up early and breakfasted at one of the local diners. Looking up, he stared at the photograph of Johnny that someone had posted near the doorway. It had been taped haphazardly to a rather greasy wood-paneled wall just inside the entry, right next to a copy of the menu. It seemed surreal to be looking at a picture of his best friend hanging in a strange place with the words “Missing” on it, and he felt his stomach knot up. Leaving the rest of his eggs on his plate, he gulped his coffee down, tossed a tip on the counter, and left, after paying his bill.

He decided to head for the sheriff’s office before setting out to knock on doors to see if there was any news yet. Roy found the sheriff had organized a search team and that they were going to be taking two Jeeps out that morning to search for Johnny. Roy decided to postpone his own door knocking and asked to be a part of the search team. Given his credentials, the sheriff agreed, and within the hour, Roy was sitting in one of two Jeeps ready to go.

They headed south to the border, and from there, the Jeeps split up, abandoning the roads and venturing out into the dusty wilderness. The day grew hot quickly, and Roy’s nerves were in a bundle as time passed without any sign of Johnny. As the Jeep bounced and zigzagged through the rough terrain, Roy could barely imagine Johnny walking this on his own, in the heat, while he tried to escape the law. And with a potentially serious injury no doubt. It occurred to him once more how lonely and terrifying it must have been; he wondered if he himself would have had the guts to do what Johnny did. Maybe it wasn’t guts, maybe it was pure desperation. Roy looked down at his watch. Two hours had passed. Johnny, where are you?

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was another sweltering day. The sun blazed down on Johnny as he trudged through the sandy earth. He looked around for the hundredth time; there was nothing around for miles. The landscape was dotted with shoots of wild grasses, cactuses and dusty hills, with clusters of rugged red rocks jutting out here and there.  The wind swirled around him, kicking up loose soil and lifting it up off the ground occasionally, only to settle back down to another place.

Johnny rubbed at his eyes. The sun was high in the sky; Johnny figured it must be around two o’clock. Boy, I wish I had my sunglasses. Spotting a small patch of shade produced by some nearby rocks, he made his way over to it and sat down. Taking a corner of his t-shirt, he wiped the sweat off his face and unscrewed the cap on his water container. Taking just a sip, he screwed the lid back on, trying to conserve it as much as possible. Closing his eyes, he decided he needed a rest; the sun had taken a lot out of him. Laying down on his side, he scrunched up against the rock, trying to stay in the shade, and drifted off.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After four hours of traversing the barren southern New Mexico landscape, the two groups of searchers had turned up nothing. At one o’clock, they took a lunch break. Roy decided that instead of going back out with the Jeep crew, he would go out in his truck and use the afternoon to stop at the resident’s houses and see if anyone had seen Johnny.

By four o’clock, he thought he had covered almost everyone, except two houses. He would have to go back to three that he had visited earlier, since the residents weren’t home.

Willa heard the pickup truck coming down the road. Squinting, she realized she didn’t recognize it. Staying inside, she went back to her laundry, until she heard someone step up on her wood plank porch and knock on the door.

As she headed for the door, she knew it was most likely someone looking for Johnny, and was actually somewhat relieved that he had left. That morning, she had fixed breakfast and waited for Johnny to get up, but he never emerged from the bedroom. Thinking he was tired, she didn’t disturb him, but when ten o’clock rolled around, she finally opened his bedroom door. She had not been too surprised to find Johnny gone, however, she couldn’t help but feel let down and disappointed. She had sighed upon reading his note, and had to fight back a tear or two, but she was a strong woman, and quickly decided to put it behind her and go on with her life as before, grateful for everything this young man had done for her. She would miss him terribly, even though he had only been a part of her life for a very short time.

Roy Desoto stood on the other side of the door, and his friendly smile faded somewhat when he noticed the scowl on the woman’s face behind the screen.

“Uh, hi. Uh, my name’s Roy DeSoto. I was wondering if you had seen a friend of mine? His name is John Gage, and – ”

Willa’s eyes were focused on Roy’s chest as she interrupted, “I ain’t seen no one around here. It’s just me here, no one else,” she said a little too quickly.

Roy looked crestfallen, then remembered the picture of Johnny he had folded up in his pocket. Pulling it out and unfolding it, he held it up for Willa.

She glanced quickly at the “Missing” heading, then pulled her eyes away, unable to look at the picture of the handsome young man she had grown to like so much. Just seeing his face made her heart wrench. “Sorry. I ain’t seen him.” She started to close the door on Roy’s face.

He lurched forward slightly, trying to say one more thing before the door closed. “If you happen to see him, could you call – ”

“I ain’t got no telephone,” she said through the six-inch opening now left by the closing door.

“Oh. Well, if you would tell the sheriff if you see him – ”

“I do that.” The door closed the rest of the way.

Roy sighed and stood there just a moment before he turned to leave. On the way to his truck, he noticed disinterestedly the pile of new shingles sitting by the carriage house. He climbed into the pickup, and set his sights on the next house. For some reason, the woman left him with a slight feeling of unease. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that she wasn’t being entirely honest with him.

Willa watched him discreetly through the window as he drove away, then went back to her washing.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Johnny awoke sometime in the evening. His body felt sore and cramped, and his eyes were gritty. At least the sun was much lower in the sky now and it had cooled to a more tolerable level of somewhere in the lower eighties.

Unscrewing the lid to his water supply again, he took a few swallows, then poured a little in the cap and washed the dust and grime out of his eyes with it. Not having eaten all day, he pulled out the sandwich he had packed, and ate half of it, saving the other half for the morning. He reserved the apple for a snack during the night, while he would be walking. Hopefully, sometime tomorrow, he would be able to reach some mountains, and find food there, and maybe a stream for water.

One of the things he had taken from Willa’s kitchen was a fairly large knife, which he intended to use to help him hunt, and a few packs of matches. He figured that would get him started. Johnny knew how to start a fire, but the matches would sure make it easier. When he was through with his meal, he pulled himself to his feet and headed north, northwest, aiming for the mountains.

He took many breaks as he walked, finding himself growing tired easily. The landscape was becoming more brutal, and he was forced to do more climbing, which slowed him down. Like a siphon, the sun the previous day had sucked the energy out of him.  A few hours before dawn, he found himself too tired to walk any more, and decided to lie down and take a short nap, intending to get up and continue on before first light.

Unfortunately, his body wasn’t cooperating, and he wasn’t able to pull his eyes open until the sun was well up over the horizon. Cursing to himself, Johnny once again dragged himself to his feet. Feeling famished, he pulled out the other half of the sandwich and devoured it while he walked, then had a drink. The water container hadn’t been large, and he felt a little uneasy about the fact that he had less than a cup left. Hopefully, he’d find water soon.

The day wore on. It was a blistering hot day and by one o’clock it was over one hundred degrees. By two o’clock, Johnny drained the last of his water, and started to realize that he was in trouble. There were no mountains in sight, for that matter, there was absolutely nothing in sight, including shade. He trudged on, and came to the realization that he needed to try to find the road he had put distance from and follow it more closely. The terrain was too rough and it was taking too much energy to traverse it. Turning more east, he headed in that direction in the hopes of finding it. He even considered the fact that he might have to hitchhike. While that idea was very unappealing, Johnny realized it might be his only hope of making it. His throat was dry as a bone, he had a headache, and he felt incredibly hot. His feet were swollen and blistered from walking. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep going. He decided that he would hitch a ride with someone, and hopefully they wouldn’t know who he was. If the police caught up with him, well, he grimly made up his mind that he would run. They would just have to shoot him because he had no intention of going back to jail.

Johnny walked another hour before he found the road. By now he was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other, often tripping. He fell a few times. The sun bore down on him, and though his skin was already dark and tan, he was starting to get sunburned. Even more alarming, his headache had become much worse and dizziness was setting in.

Using all his concentration just to move forward, he kept on, hoping to hear a car, his eyes focused downward. The sound of a bird calling overhead caught his attention, and when his eyes rose upward, they were greeted with a spectacular sight. In front of him were mountains, a large grassy area, and a stream. Closing his eyes and thanking God, he pushed himself forward toward relief. He would dive into the cool water as soon as he reached it, gulping down the fresh water. He could almost taste it, though his mouth was unable to salivate at this point.

Johnny kept walking, but for some reason, it seemed he wasn’t getting any closer to the mountains. In fact, they were getting harder to see. He squinted, hurrying faster, pushing himself, desperate to reach the water, when all of a sudden, the whole scene evaporated. Stumbling forward, his eyes grew wide in disbelief that it had been an illusion. Gone were the mountains, replaced by familiar red rocks, dust, and high weeds and cactuses. The water had dried up and the grass had turned to straw. No. Oh no. He took a few more steps, then dropped to his knees, pitching forward until his forehead touched the ground. Strong emotions surfaced, and he felt like crying, but tears wouldn’t come. They had dried up.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Disappointed, but not surprised, Roy listened as the sheriff conveyed that they had found nothing yet. The Jeep crew had been unsuccessful in turning anything up yesterday after Roy had left, and no new information had been forthcoming that afternoon either. They were to try again today, and Roy volunteered to go out with them. If Johnny was out there, he wanted to be there when he was found, in case he needed medical help, which, in Roy’s opinion, would be very likely.

Having stopped at every house in the area south of Deming, Roy reasoned it would be better if he accompanied the Jeep crew instead. They had a different area they would be covering today. If the search still turned up nothing, Roy would be forced to leave Deming and look elsewhere. Where that would be, he didn’t know. It would be impossible to search every residence in the town; there were simply too many. He would have to rely on the sheriff and townspeople to find Johnny. Once everyone knew he was missing, surely someone would let the police know they had seen him.

He spent the morning and early afternoon in the Jeep, again, traversing the land in search of his friend. Roy found himself starting to feel hopeless as the hours passed, and began to wonder if he would ever see Johnny again. The odds were starting to dwindle.

His mind wandered as they headed back for Deming to take a break. He thought of all the houses he had stopped at, and each person he had met. None of them had any clue as to Johnny’s whereabouts. Recalling the single older woman he had spoken with, he still felt bothered by her reaction. He shook his head. Something about her didn’t add up. He tried to replay the scene in his mind. She had been so quick to tell Roy that she hadn’t seen Johnny. Too quick, he thought, like she was hiding something. Then she had practically slammed the door in his face.

Think, DeSoto. What doesn’t add up? Closing his eyes, he tried to picture her house and the surroundings. The house had faced west, with a carriage house adjacent. There was a pile of what appeared to be leftover shingles on the ground near the garage, as if someone has been putting a new roof on, but Roy hadn’t seen any evidence of anyone working there, and hadn’t noticed whether the roof was new or not. Something else popped into his mind as he mentally scanned the property. There had been a clothesline outside next to the house with clothes hanging from it. What was odd about that? Something…

Roy chewed his lip, then jerked upright. There had been clothes hanging from the clothesline – men’s clothes! Roy’s heart sped up as he remembered a pair of men’s jeans, and three men’s shirts hanging from the line in addition to some women’s clothing. She had said she lived alone! So why was there men’s clothes hanging on the line? She was hiding something!

Excited at his revelation, Roy leaned over to the driver of the Jeep. “Hey, I just thought of something I have to check out. How soon will we be back in town?”

“About ten minutes,” the driver said.

“Can you hurry? I think I might be on to something.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Roy said. “Just a hunch I’d like to check out.” Not wanting to draw too much attention to his idea, Roy decided to keep quiet about it. If a bunch of police and lawmen showed up at the woman’s house, she might clam up and not say a word. Roy thought if he went alone and talked to her, he could convince her to tell him if she knew anything about Johnny. Roy didn’t want to spook her by attracting a slew of cops to her doorstep.

The Jeeps finally arrived back into town, and the rescue team went to lunch to discuss the next avenue of the search. Roy excused himself and peeled off in his truck, heading for Willa Whips’ residence.

Twenty minutes later, his truck was once again bouncing down the uneven dirt road leading to her house. Willa was outside in the yard taking her laundry off the line when he appeared. She had been lost in thought, and didn’t notice his presence until it was too late to run inside. Continuing her task, she didn’t stop as Roy parked his car, climbed out, and walked over to her side.

She looked up at him, glaring. “You back? I told you I ain’t never seen that guy.”

In a very non-threatening way, Roy said softly, “I think you have, ma’am.”

Surprise and uncertainty flashed across her eyes, and she looked up at Roy nervously. “You callin’ me a liar?”

He shook his head. “No. I just think you were trying to protect my friend, and I thank you.”

Now, totally perplexed, she just stared at him.

“You said you lived here alone, right?”

“That’s right.”

Roy reached down into her laundry basket and took out a pair of men’s jeans. “These look a little big for you,” he said, holding them out in front of him.

Feeling trapped, Willa tore the jeans from his hand and said, “That ain’t none of your business. Now you look, I told you I ain’t – ”

Roy held up his hand. “Please, ma’am, if you’d just listen a minute, I’ll explain everything to you.”
            “Fine. Then you can leave,” she said defiantly.

“I told you my name yesterday, it’s Roy DeSoto. The man I’m looking for,” he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and opened it, “his name is Johnny Gage. He’s my friend, my best friend. We work together, we’re firemen back in Los Angeles. Johnny escaped from a jail in Mexico, but he’s innocent. The police know that now. They don’t want to arrest him, we just want to find him. Johnny’s been exonerated. He’s free to go home, if we can just find him.” Roy took the photo of himself and Johnny in front of the old engine out of his wallet and showed it to her.

She looked at the photo hard; yes, it was definitely Johnny, grinning, his arm around another man, his hand resting on his shoulder, with an old fire engine in the background. She scrutinized the other man in the photo, then looked up at Roy and realized it was the same man. They really were friends. After everything she had been through in her life, Willa believed herself to be a pretty good judge of character, and right now she believed this man in front of her was telling the truth. He had to be; it all made perfect sense.

“Johnny and I restored that old engine together.” His deep blue eyes looked at her pleadingly. “I need your help. Please help me find him.”

Willa looked up at him, sighed, then swallowed, then looked away, her face full of remorse. “He’s gone.”

Roy’s heart started thumping. He was here! This woman had seen him! “Gone? So, he was here?” Roy said excitedly.

Willa nodded glumly. “Yeah. He was here, near two weeks. I’m sorry.”

Roy couldn’t believe his luck. “He, he was?” He grasped the woman’s upper arms. “Was he hurt? Was he all right? They said he was shot – ”

“That’s right. He was. Right here,” she pointed to her upper arm. “He’s okay, the doc…took care of him…”
            “The doc?”

“A friend of mine. He helped him. John damn near died from infection,”

Roy’s eyes grew wide. “Infection,” he mouthed.

“but he got better.”

“Where is he now?” Roy asked in desperation.

Willa ran a hand across her forehead. “He’s gone; he left yesterday morning. I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is. He thought the law was after him; his picture’s all over town you know.”

Roy closed his eyes. I’m responsible for that. “Oh, no. How did he leave?”

“Walked, I guess. He was gone yesterday morning when I got up. Left sometime in the middle of the night.”

“Do you have any idea where he might have headed?”

“Well, my guess would be north, maybe toward the mountains. He was askin’ me questions about it the other day; was thinkin’ about leavin’ then.”

“Wait a minute.” Roy ran to his truck and fished the map out of the glove compartment, then trotted back to Willa. Opening it up, he asked, “Can you show me where you think he might have gone?”

Willa scrutinized Roy for a split second. “You really his best friend?”

Roy nodded. “Yeah, his best.” Although I haven’t exactly acted like his best friend over the past several months. “He’s my kids’ favorite uncle. They miss him. We all miss him. Ma’am, I just want to find him…and bring him home.”

Willa stepped up next to Roy and looked at the map. Squinting, she pointed to the road that led to Deming, and the land that lay north and west. “I ‘spect he headed around the town and out this way,” she pointed to highway one eighty, which headed northwest, “up toward the Mogollon and Mimbres Mountain areas. It’s nice up there; it’s all forest area, and there’s plenty of water.”

Studying the map, Roy could see that Johnny would have to walk about fifty miles to reach that area. It made sense. If he was on the run, and wanted to lose himself, that would be the place to do it. If he could make it. The sun was intense, and Roy wiped the sweat away that was dripping into his eyes. Not wanting to waste another second, he made a hasty departure, but thanked Willa first, his expressive eyes showing the gratitude and emotion his words didn’t carry carry.

As he climbed into his truck, Willa called, “If you find him, you bring him back here, all right? You tell ‘im Willa wants to see him. He didn’t say a proper good-bye.”

“I will,” Roy promised. “Thanks…Willa.” His truck door slammed shut, and he drove away, kicking up a cloud of dust along the way.

Roy drove back to Deming like a man possessed, but instead of stopping, he passed right on through the town and headed out highway one-eighty. He debated about stopping and giving his new information to the sheriff, but he was afraid if a large search party was dispatched to find Johnny, it might spook him into hiding, which might delay finding him. Roy knew he was taking a chance going alone, but he figured it wasn’t that far, and if he didn’t find Johnny in a couple of hours, he’d turn back, or better yet, call Tom Hicks and let him know what was going on. That way, Roy could be a step ahead of the search team and keep looking without stopping. Besides, the Jeep crew was probably still out on the road, and if Roy went back to Deming, it might be hours before they were able to dispatch them north of town to find Johnny. Until now, the search had been confined to the south of the town. Roy gambled that Johnny would try to stay close to the road so that he could find his way to the mountain area, and that somehow he would find him. He had to try. Trying to think it through as logically as possible, Roy decided he would call the Deming sheriff as soon as he reached the first town, which was about forty miles north of Deming. As Roy drove north, rarely a soul was seen. He cranked up his air conditioner full blast, and hoped his truck wouldn’t overheat.

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dizzy from the heat, Johnny struggled to pull himself up off the earth and go forward. His head was pounding so badly he could hardly see, and his mouth and tongue were dry as a desert. He’d long since quit sweating and his first steps were taken in a fog. Somehow he plodded on, still hopeful to find the mountains Willa had talked about. She said if he just followed route one-eighty he would find wooded areas where there was plenty of water from lakes and rivers. He couldn’t be that much farther, could he?

Johnny had lost track of time. By the sun’s location, he only knew it was late afternoon. Soon it would be evening; maybe it would cool down then. Maybe if he could just keep going, he would reach his destination. He hoped he would, because he knew if he didn’t, he would die there on the side of the road. He didn’t relish the thought of buzzards tearing at his flesh once he had expired, so he forced himself onward.

Several times, he saw large pools of water materialize in front of him. The first time it happened, he stumbled toward it, like he had the earlier scene of the mountains, trees and water, only to have it vanish before his eyes. Angry, he decided he couldn’t trust his vision, and wouldn’t waste any energy trying to get to it if he saw water again. The trouble was, if he really did make it to the woods, he wouldn’t even be sure that what he was seeing was real. Oh well; he’d deal with it when it happened. If it happened.

Johnny was now walking alongside the road, not caring any more if he was seen. He was desperate to possibly be picked up by someone, as long as it wasn’t police. It didn’t matter, if he wasn’t found soon, they’d find him dead anyway.

His steps were slow and painstaking now; the blisters that he developed on his feet had burst, and the sore spots rubbed painfully against his shoes. He was near collapse. Had he not been preconditioned to the sun while in prison, he most likely would have done that a while ago.

The sound of a vehicle rumbled way in the distance. It didn’t register at first, but as it came closer, Johnny was sure it must be a hallucination, and didn’t turn to acknowledge it. After all, he hadn’t seen a car all afternoon.

Roy had been driving for nearly an hour and a half when he thought he saw a person up ahead, walking a short distance away from the side of the road. Adrenalin burst forth as he pondered who it might be, and he tried not to get his hopes up too much, for fear of a letdown. At any rate, whoever was walking this lonely desolate road might need help.

As he drew nearer, he stepped on the accelerator. The tall figure off the side of the road was beginning to look familiar, and Roy’s hands grasped onto the steering wheel white-knuckled as his foot pushed the pedal down anxiously. It…it looks like Johnny. It looks like Johnny! He was about three hundred yards away, two hundred, one hundred…he’s got dark hair, same build, oh my God…it’s Johnny. It’s Johnny!

Still in total disbelief, there was regardless no doubt in Roy’s mind as he pulled his truck up alongside the man that it was indeed his partner. Johnny seemed not to notice he was even there as he kept trudging along about twenty feet from the pavement, not acknowledging the truck that had now pulled over on the side of the road. He kept walking. 

Roy unrolled his window and kept pace with his dark-haired friend. He strained to get a good look at Johnny and could tell he was on the verge of collapse. Johnny’s eyes were only half open and he looked to be in a trance. “Johnny!” Roy called.

Johnny heard the voice call and tried not to look. Man, now I’m not only seein’ things, I’m hearin’ things. That sounded like Roy. I must be losin’ it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the truck. It sure looked like Roy’s. The voice sure sounded like Roy’s. I can’t take this. I’m not stopping.

“Johnny!” The voice called again, and he drove his truck off the side of the road into the uneven dirt, pulling right up next to him.

At this point, Johnny could not ignore the truck any longer. It was inches away from him, and he finally turned his head he saw Roy clearly through the open passenger side window, a combined expression of joy and concern reflecting in his blue eyes.

Johnny tentatively reached up and touched the truck with his hand. He stared at it in wonder This isn’t real. It’s another mirage. They’re getting’ more realistic. Roy had thrown the gearshift into park and was reaching for his door handle, when he turned and locked eyes with Johnny’s. He swallowed. “Johnny,” he stated simply, taken aback at the forlorn and blank look in his friend’s eyes.

Johnny looked down once, then back up and mouthed, “Roy,” since he was unable to speak from the dryness in his throat. Then Roy saw him disappear as his head sank below the door frame.

The illusion of his best friend in his truck was too overwhelming for Johnny, and as he crossed one foot in front of the other one last time, he knees gave out and he collapsed to the earth.

Roy was by his side in an instant, and recognized the signs of heat stroke immediately. Roy touched his flushed face. Johnny’s eyes were half open, his skin was hot and dry, his body unable to produce sweat any more. Roy kneeled next to him and shaded his face. “Johnny. It’s me. Roy. Can you hear me?”

Johnny made a feeble attempt to reach up to Roy and touch him and Roy took his hand. “Not real,” Johnny barely croaked. But Roy’s hand did feel real. He felt Roy probing for his carotid with his other hand. It was very rapid and weak.

Roy offered his friend a reassuring smile. “I am real, Johnny. I’m here, and  I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” Johnny mouthed again. This couldn’t be real. Well, if it was another illusion, it was a good one.

“Yeah. Home. Now, I’m gonna get you into my truck and out of this heat. C’mon. Can you help me? Can you sit up?”

Johnny just stared up at Roy, making no attempt to move. He couldn’t. His strength was gone, and Roy realized it.

Roy stood and reached for the car door, opening it. He then squatted down beside Johnny and coaxed him up into a sitting position. He tried pulling his friend to his feet, but he was dead weight, so he set him back down, and scooping both arms under him, picked him up like a child and carried him to his truck.

It wasn’t easy; Roy grunted and strained in the heat; Johnny was heavy, but he managed to get him inside. Once settled on the seat, Roy fastened the seat belt around him, slammed the door closed, ran around to the driver’s side, and started the truck. Immediately, he turned the air conditioner to it’s highest level, aiming all the vents at Johnny.

Johnny lay like a rag doll, his head resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed. His breath came in shallow pants. Roy reached for the cooler of water he kept in the truck and poured a cup for Johnny.

Leaning toward his friend, he said, “Johnny. I’ve got some water. Try to drink. He put the cup up to Johnny’s lips and Johnny opened his eyes. Slowly, Roy attempted to tip the cup back for Johnny to drink. Johnny reached up as the cool water pooled in his mouth and tried to grasp the cup. His hand was shaking too badly, so Roy held it while Johnny swallowed, even though his own hand was shaking almost as much.

“Just a little,” Roy ordered. The truck sat idling; Roy glanced at his heat gauge. It was okay for the time being. He had to watch it; the last thing he needed was for his truck to stall or his radiator to overheat out here in the middle of nowhere.

Johnny drank a little more, then Roy stopped him. “Give it a minute, then I’ll get you more.” Roy reached for Johnny’s shirt and began to pull it up and over his head. Johnny’s eyes popped open in alarm, and with what little strength he had, unsuccessfully tried to pull away from Roy.

Roy retreated momentarily. “Easy. I’m just gonna help you get your shirt off to cool you down, okay?” He talked in his most soothing voice. Johnny’s eyes closed again, and he relaxed slightly, allowing Roy to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. Roy then reached down and removed Johnny’s shoes and socks, grimacing when he saw the red angry blisters on his feet. Then, taking an old towel he kept in the truck, he poured a bit of cool water on it and wiped it across Johnny’s torso, trying to cool him down. Johnny’s body tensed immediately, jerking away, his glazed half-opened eyes appeared fearful. Roy sensed the panic in his friend, and gently pulled back, leaving the wet towel laying across John’s stomach.

Johnny reached for the cup again, and Roy gave him another drink. After a few more swallows, Roy asked, “Any better?”

Johnny nodded, almost indistinguishably, and closed his eyes. Roy put the cup away, threw the truck into drive, and turned it around. He urged the truck into a speed just under reckless, and headed back toward town.

Johnny lay limp in the passenger seat, unmoving. The cold air blowing on him felt heavenly, but he was still dizzy, and his head hurt beyond belief. Briefly, he opened his eyes and glanced around. He caught Roy out of his peripheral vision, his serious face set in concentration behind the wheel.  This is the most vivid hallucination I’ve ever had.  He closed his eyes again.

About halfway there, Johnny started to feel nauseous. He was also chilling, and opening his eyes, he reached forward, trying to direct the cold air away from him.

Roy looked over at him in concern; Johnny really looked sick. “You okay? We’re almost there. You want some more water?”

Johnny looked over at him, and by the expression on his face, Roy knew what was happening. “Ugh. S-stop the car.”

He pulled over immediately and saw Johnny fumbling with the door handle, trying to open it. Roy got out and ran around to the passenger side and flung the door open for him. Johnny spilled out of the car and onto the pavement, landing only on his hands and knees because Roy caught him. His stomach started convulsing, and he gagged and wretched, heaving up the little bit of water he’d had. He stayed there, hunched over, Roy supporting him so he wouldn’t fall flat on his face, for nearly five minutes, before his dry heaves stopped. He was shaking badly and on the verge of passing out.

Once again, Roy picked him up and manhandled him into the car. It occurred to Roy that Johnny needed a hospital – and soon. He was worse than he’d originally thought upon his first assessment. He could see the city in the distance; they were about five miles away. Originally, he had intended to take Johnny back to Willa’s, but now saw that wasn’t possible.

Ten minutes later, Roy was within city limits and had slowed to thirty-five. It wasn’t too large a town, and it didn’t take long to see a hospital sign. He followed the directions and minutes later was pulling his truck into the Emergency entrance of the Deming Hospital.

Leaving his truck running, he ran inside and yelled for a gurney. Two attendants rushed outside with him and helped unload Johnny from the truck and placed him on the gurney. Seconds after that, Johnny was whisked inside and immediately taken into a treatment room.

The attending physician’s name was Dr. Saunders. He was young; Roy estimated him to be in his early thirties, and he began checking Johnny’s vitals and quickly established an IV while a nurse beckoned Roy aside to question him. She originally tried to direct Roy out of the examination room, but Roy asked to stay, explaining his status as a paramedic from LA, and showing his credentials. Dr. Saunders gave permission for Roy to remain in the room, and listened in as Roy answered the nurse’s questions about Johnny. 

Roy was explaining some of Johnny’s medical history when he heard Johnny weakly crying out, “No! No doc..tors…no hos…pitals,” from the exam table. It seemed that Johnny had just figured out where he was.

Roy broke away and rushed to his side. “Johnny, it’s okay. Just lie still and let them treat you.”

“No,” he moaned. “They’ll…find me…no doctors…”

Roy understood now why he was upset. “Johnny, listen to me. It’s okay. No one is looking for you. You’re free now. I found your bag in Acapulco. You understand? They’ve dropped all the charges against you.” Johnny stared up at Roy in incomprehension.

The doctor looked up at Roy in confusion. “What’s this about?”

Roy looked up grimly. “It’s a long story.”

Dr. Saunders looked down at Johnny, and understanding seemed to dawn on his face. “Ah, you’re the missing man, aren’t you? I’ve seen your picture.”

“No,” Johnny groaned.

“Yes,” Roy said, directing his answer at the doctor. “Doc, I’ll explain later.” Johnny was muttering ‘no’ deliriously from the table. The nurse beckoned to Roy and hesitantly, he stepped away from the exam table a bit to finish John’s medical history.

Roy had already removed Johnny’s shirt before they had arrived at the hospital, and now as the nurses started removing Johnny’s jeans, he suddenly began to fight them, thrashing about on the table and crying out in terror. Roy’s head snapped up immediately at the sound of his friend’s anguished pleas to stop.  Automatically, they began to restrain him, wrapping the cloth straps tightly around his wrists, waist and legs, which caused an outright panic attack. Johnny suddenly seemed to have superhuman strength as he fought them wildly, his eyes wide with terror, his hoarse screams nearly bloodcurdling. Horrified, Roy immediately was by John’s side, trying to calm him, his hands on John’s shoulders gently pressing downwards. Beside him, Dr. Saunders was busy injecting a sedative into the IV portal, which had nearly been dislodged. Roy glanced up at the attendants once they were through securing the restraints. “Look, can you back off a little? He’s been through a lot. Let me try to talk to him.” The doctor and the nurses took a step back, and watched Roy try to calm his friend.

Johnny was practically hyperventilating; his hands were closed into tight fists and his chest heaved with the effort to free himself. All the while he was moaning an urgent myriad of ‘no please’, ‘leave me alone’, and ‘don’t touch me’,  in short panting breaths. Roy knew exactly what had caused Johnny’s outburst, and his heart felt sad and heavy as he took in his friend’s desperate expression.

Roy laid one of his hands on top of Johnny’s and began speaking quietly to him. “Johnny, it’s Roy. Do you understand me? It’s Roy.”

Johnny kept up his litany of ‘no’s’.

“Junior, you need to listen to me. You’re in the hospital. They want to help you. You’re sick; you’ve got heat stroke. You understand?”

Johnny stared up at him, his eyes transfixed on Roy’s.

Roy swallowed and licked his lips. “You know what the treatment is for heat stroke, right? We’ve got to get your body cooled down; your temperature is too high. They’re already giving you fluids, that’s what the IV is for. You know the drill. Now, they’ve got to get your clothes off and get a cooling blanket on you. They’ll keep you covered up.” Roy made sure to keep his voice soothing and even the whole time, which he finally noticed was beginning to calm his friend. Roy looked back at the doctors, who were quietly watching the interaction, then turned back to Johnny. “If you want, I can do it.”

Johnny began wearily shaking his head, weakly muttering ‘no’ again. He was beginning to get weary; the sedative was taking effect. His tightly fisted hand began to relax as he listened to Roy.

“Okay, Johnny, I’m gonna stay right here with ya. Nothing is gonna happen. No one is going to hurt you. The doctors just wanna help you, but you gotta let ‘em. You gotta trust me. Okay?”

Johnny continued to stare up at him, his eyelids growing heavy. He sighed, all the fight in him suddenly had drained out, and he lay limp. Finally, he muttered, “Okay,” and his eyes closed. After that, he didn’t seem to be aware of what was happening, and they got his clothes removed, and started cooling measures. About two hours later, he was moved to a regular room, where he slept, exhausted from his ordeal.

Roy stood quietly in the shaded room, worn out himself. He looked down at his sleeping partner, and out of the blue, a gigantic feeling of relief flooded over him, nearly overwhelming him. Johnny was out of prison; he was free, and Roy had found him. He could take him home now. The last eight months suddenly felt like years as Roy considered everything that had happened. It just didn’t seem real.

Roy stretched his arms out, then lowered his hands to the back of his neck, massaging the kinks out. Glancing back at Johnny, he realized he had a lot of calls to make. He had to let the sheriff know Johnny had been found; he had to call Joanne, and the guys at the station. And there was one more person he had to contact – Willa. During his short time with her, he sensed a deep feeling of caring on her part had developed toward Johnny, and felt she deserved to know his fate. After all, she had probably saved his life, and Roy wanted to thank her personally for that.

For some reason, Roy had a very hard time pulling himself away from Johnny’s side. He guessed it was due to everything he had gone through to find his friend, and now that he had found him, he didn’t want to let him out of his sight. But he knew Johnny was stable, and in good hands, and so, reluctantly, he stepped out of the room to fulfill his tasks, with full intentions of returning in a short while.

Joanne had been ecstatic; his two children had insisted on speaking with their daddy personally on the telephone just so they could hear for themselves that their ‘Uncle Johnny’ had been found, and was coming home. After some sentimental words, they exchanged ‘I love you’s, and Roy hung up, promising to be home in just a few more days.

Captain Stanley had answered the telephone at the station, and Roy smiled as he envisioned the incredulous expression on his captain’s face as he relayed the news about their crewmate. He could almost see Hank standing there, leaning against the wall, his face first a mask of disbelief, then relaxing into one of relief after the release of a huge sigh, combined with a smile of gratitude. Roy spoke to Hank for a good fifteen minutes, giving him a recap of his ordeal about how he located Johnny. Hank gave the others, who were all gathered around the telephone, a play by play account of what had happened as Roy relayed the details to him, and Roy heard their excited cheers in the background. Roy laughed out loud upon hearing Chet’s excited, ‘Yes! The pigeon’s comin’ back!’, then Hank’s admonished, ‘Kelly!’.

The last call had been to Tom Hicks, the sheriff, whom Roy offered an explanation of how he had come to find Johnny, along with a heartfelt thank-you for all he had done to help in the search for his friend. Roy fully intended to stop by his office the next day to reinforce that personally.

It felt so good to be able to think that maybe, just maybe in the near future, things might be back to normal, and that the hell his partner had endured was finally over. Roy sobered slightly as he recognized that the events and horrors of the past eight months might not be so easy for his partner to overcome, and that he would probably need some help. Roy had every intention of making sure that Johnny would get all the help he needed to get his life back on track, starting with himself. He was cautiously optimistic that Johnny would prevail over his hardships. Deep down, Roy knew Johnny was a pretty resilient man; in the time he’d known him, Roy had seen him overcome many tough obstacles, and sensed that there had been others in his life that he never talked about. After all these years, Roy had learned that Johnny was not an easy man to figure out; his outward appearance and actions didn’t necessarily match his inner emotions.

Roy decided to postpone talking to Willa until he left for good that night, wanting first to get a chance to get a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria, then stop back to see his friend before visiting hours were over. It was seven o’clock in the evening when Roy finished his telephone calls, followed by dinner, and at that time, he decided to check back on his friend before retiring for the night. Where he was going to retire to, he didn’t yet know.

Johnny lay in bed, groggy, sick, and sore, but awake. The day had seemed surreal, and he was still trying to piece the puzzle of the last twenty-four hours together in his mind. He knew he was in a hospital, and he thought Roy had brought him here, but couldn’t imagine how that could have really happened. Someone must have found him in the desert after he passed out, and he had imagined the whole interaction with Roy. More importantly, Johnny realized the implications of the fact that he had been found, and was now deliberating on what to do.

It seemed odd to him that no police officer had come to his room to question him and inform him that they would be taking him back to prison. Just the same, Johnny was nearly certain that’s what would happen, and began thinking of a way to get out of the hospital unseen the minute he felt he was able to stand on his own two feet. He was still incredibly weak, and his head pounded, although not nearly as badly as before. He was still slightly chilled and running a low fever, but had improved immensely from the time he had first arrived.

As he was plotting his escape, Roy DeSoto knocked softly and walked through his open hospital room door.

Hearing the footsteps of the man upon entering, Johnny’s eyes opened wide, and his jaw dropped slightly as his best friend approached his bed. Johnny blinked hard once, then again.

“Oh my God,” he nearly whispered, “I wasn’t hallucinating. You really are here.” Johnny was speechless after that.

Roy smiled; just the fact that Johnny was actually here and talking to him caused him to feel overwhelmingly happy. “It’s really me, Roy DeSoto, in the flesh.” He pulled a chair up next to Johnny’s bed, and plopped heavily down into it. “How’re you feeling, Johnny?”

Johnny continued to stare incredulously, ignoring Roy’s question. He finally closed his mouth and found his voice. “How? How did you find me?”

Roy took in a deep breath and let it out heavily. “It’s a long story. I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest condensed version, okay?”

Johnny nodded, and Roy launched into an abbreviated story about the suitcase, his meeting with Cortez and Gonzales, then his journey north past the border and into Deming. He explained about talking to Sheriff Hicks and the postings of the “Missing” posters, then his meeting with Willa, which led him to Johnny.

When the story was through, Johnny was experiencing feelings of awe and disbelief. He made Roy explain twice about how he had been exonerated, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things, just to make sure it wasn’t all just a cruel joke being played on him.

“Johnny, believe me. You’re free. It’s over. You don’t have to go back.”

Hearing those words nearly brought him to tears as emotions swept over him. Johnny looked down at his bed sheets, shaking his head. I can’t believe it,” was all he could say, his voice choked. 

“It’s true.” Roy looked upward briefly. “I’m having a bit of a hard time believing all this myself.” He paused a moment, a bit overcome, then brought his eyes up to meet Johnny’s.  Barely above a whisper, he added, “I’m just glad I found you.”

With those words, Johnny felt a lump in his throat, which grew larger when thoughts of all his friend had done for him flooded into his mind. Guilt surrounded him when he considered the horrible way he had treated Roy the last time he saw him. He felt embarrassed and small; saying thank you just didn’t seem like enough, but it had to be said. In a low, self-conscious voice tinged with remorse, he said “Roy, I don’t know how to thank you.”

Roy shrugged. “No need, Johnny.” Roy looked into his friends dark eyes, seeing the emotion there, and felt overcome himself. It hit him with surprising intensity, the fact that he was sitting here, face to face with his best friend, after all they had been through, and it was all over; well, at least the nightmare of the last eight months was over, and they were going to go home. Roy didn’t want to spoil the moment by thinking about the hurdles the future might bring.

There was nothing else to say, and for a moment the two friends remained silent, the significance of the situation weighing heavily on them both.

Trying to dilute the highly charged emotions weighing them down, Roy quipped, “Well….maybe you can help me hang hose a couple times when you come back to work.”

The mention of returning to work brought a new brightness to Johnny’s eyes, and Johnny mouthed the word ‘work’ to himself. Anxiously, he asked, “How’re the guys?”

It was a good sign, and Roy smiled toothily at this friend. “Great! They’re great, Johnny. They’re anxious to see you.”

“They know what’s going on?”

“I filled ‘em in.” Roy nodded.

Almost afraid to ask, Johnny questioned, “When…when can I go home?”

Roy shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe tomorrow.” A nurse walked by the open door, and peeked in at them, signaling that Roy had only a minute. He stood up, seeing it was past eight o’clock, and knowing he would be kicked out soon. “I’ll find out from the doc, and stop back in the morning okay?”

For a moment, Johnny looked panicked. He was, slightly, fearing that if Roy left, he wouldn’t come back, fearing that Roy’s presence would have just been another illusion. Subconsciously, he knew it was irrational, but couldn’t help the sudden feelings of alarm closing in on him.

 Roy sensed Johnny’s fear, and took his hand. Squeezing Johnny’s palm in his, he said meaningfully, “I’ll be back in the morning – first thing. Don’t worry.” He let go of his hand. “Now, get some rest, and get better, so I can drive you home. There’s a lot of people who want to see you.” He gave Johnny a reassuring smile, and Johnny relaxed a bit.

Johnny’s face cracked a small crooked smile as he bade good-bye to his friend. “Thanks, Roy.” He was too choked up to say more; yet it wasn’t necessary; those two little words said it all.

Bone tired, Roy made the thirty minute drive back to Willa’s. The sun was nearly down when he pulled up in front of her house. She emerged through the doorway before he climbed from the driver’s seat, and ran toward him, wiping her hands on her apron.

Her face fell when Roy got out of the truck, and she realized he was alone. “You didn’t find him?” The worry and disappointment was etched in the lines of her face.

Roy walked around the front of the truck and approached her, glad that he would be delivering good news. Smiling, he nodded. “I found him.”

Willa closed her eyes and sighed in relief. Blinking, she asked, “Well, where is he? Is he all right?”

“He’s in the Deming Hospital. I took him there.”

Her face changed instantly to fear. “What happened? He hurt?”

“He’s got a bad case of heat stroke. He was out in the sun for two days.” Seeing her concern, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “The doctors think he’s going to be fine. I just saw him; he’s awake and feeling better.”

She looked down and turned away slightly. “Thank goodness for that.” She looked back up, eyes blazing. “Darn fool! He never shoulda tried to walk away from here in this heat. I told him he could stay here.”

Roy smiled wider. “That’s Johnny for you. He’s a pretty stubborn guy.”

“Boy, I’ll say he is.”

“I guess it didn’t take you long to figure him out, huh?”

“Nope. Stubborn as a mule, he was.” Her face grew softer. “But he’s a good man.”

Roy nodded. “Yeah. He is.” Roy looked down at his watch. “Uh, Willa, that is your name, right?”

Willa stuck her hand out. “I’m sorry! Where’s my manners? Willa Whips. And, I forget your name…”

Roy shook her extended hand. “Roy DeSoto. Willa, it’s getting late, and I’ve got to find somewhere to spend the night. I’d better be getting back to town.”

Willa didn’t want him to leave. “W-wait! Uh, you don’t have to leave. Why don’t you stay here, at my place? I mean, after all you did for John, I’d be more’n happy to have you here. You had any dinner?”

Roy smiled to himself and thought ironically, After all I did for John? “Yes, ma’am, I have. But I couldn’t take advantage of your hospitality. It’s too much trouble.”

“Nonsense!” She took him by the arm. Now, you just get your bag and come on inside. You can stay in Johnny’s room.”

“Johnny’s room?”

“Well, the room he stayed in while he was here.”

Roy could tell the woman wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so reluctantly, he complied with her wishes. He was tired anyway, and didn’t relish having to drive back into town and try to find a hotel room. “Willa, you don’t even know me. Are you sure you’d feel comfortable with that?”

“Any friend of John’s is a friend of mine. I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I can tell you’ve got it. Besides, my momma and daddy brought me up that when a person is in need, you got to help them out. That’s what we did during the war. We used to have soldiers stay at our house from time to time that were passing through on their way home. It’s just the neighborly thing to do.”

Roy was a bit thunderstruck at her ability to trust him, a total stranger for the most part. “Well, okay, I guess one night couldn’t hurt.”

“Good. It’s settled then. Come on inside.” She led him to the house.

Roy settled his belongings in the bedroom and washed his face in the bathroom, then went to look for Willa, who was swinging slowly on the front porch.

“Take a load off,” she gestured to Roy. He chose a wooden rocker and sat down.

It was a sweet, moonlit night, the sky bright with stars, a slight breeze billowed around them. It was a very peaceful place.

Willa broke the silence. “So you’re Johnny’s best friend. I can see he chooses his friends wisely.”

Roy eyed her. “Apparently he does.”

She smiled at his return compliment. “He spoke about you several times.”

“He did?”

“Oh yes. He told me all about the fires and rescues you went on together. He certainly had some stories to tell.”

Roy wondered exactly what Johnny had told her. “Well, we certainly have had some memorable experiences together through our job.”

“Not just your work. He told me about your children and your wife, and all the things he’s done with your family.”

“He did?” Roy’s eyebrows went up.

“I think you and your family are very important to John. Especially since he lost his momma and daddy and brother so young.”

This Roy did not know, and it startled him into momentary silence. I figured his parents were dead, since he never talks about them, but I never knew Johnny had a brother! I wonder why he never told me? Roy realized he needed to comment on Willa’s last statement. He looked up at her, wondering how, in such a short period of time, she had managed to find out such private things about his partner that in five years he himself didn’t know. Maybe Johnny felt more comfortable divulging his thoughts to a woman, or maybe he felt safer telling them to a stranger; he didn’t know. “Johnny’s just as important to us,” he responded almost forcefully, an air of protectiveness tingeing his words. “I can’t tell you how much my wife and kids have missed him.”

“I’m sure they have.” She suddenly looked forlorn. Softly, she said, “I’m gonna miss him too.” She sighed a deep sigh. “He….reminds me so of my boy.”

Roy heard the deep sadness in her voice, and wasn’t sure if he should ask questions. “Do…do you have a son too?” he ventured.

“Did have. Died about thirteen years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Willa didn’t seem to want to offer any other explanation, so Roy didn’t pry. He knew she was already having a hard time letting go of Johnny, and didn’t want to make it rougher for her by bringing up painful memories of the past.

Changing the subject, he stated softly but in a genuine and heartfelt tone,  “I want to thank you for helping out my friend.”

She nodded. “Like I said, he’s a good man.”

Roy nodded.

“He done a lot for me while he was here.” She looked up at him meaningfully. “I guess you’ll be takin’ him home soon.”

“As soon as he gets out of the hospital. Why don’t you come to see him tomorrow? I think Johnny would like that.”

Willa shuddered minutely. She hated hospitals. She’d spent more than enough time in them visiting her son after her husband had beat him, and didn’t like the memories they drudged up. “I’ll…I’ll think about it. Tell you what, why don’t you bring him by to see me before you leave? Will you do that?”

“Sure. Of course I will.”

“Good. And Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll…watch over him….when he gets home. He’s…gonna need it.”

Roy looked at her somberly. He already knew Johnny was going to need it. Somehow, she did too. His voice nearly broke as he promised with conviction, “I will. You can count on it.”

“Good.” Willa stood up, leaving the swing swaying slowly behind her. “It’s late. Gotta be getting’ to bed.”

Roy stood as well. He was glad of the opportunity to finally get some sleep. He bade her good-night and watched as she retired to her room and softly closed her door.

He went to his own room, doing the same. Once the lights were out, Roy lay in his underwear on the cool sheet, the top cover not even needed. There was no air conditioning, and the room was warm, but somehow the balmy air breezing through the open window was comforting, and he drifted off quickly, glad that the day had turned out the way it had.

Roy spent all morning and half the afternoon with Johnny before the doctor finally made his rounds and gave the disappointing news that he really wanted Johnny to spend one more day in the hospital. Johnny was beside himself, desperately wanting to be released, even considering secretly to break out of the hospital somehow on his own, but the doctor was finally able to convince him that it was wise to stay and rest just to make sure he was stabilized enough to leave. Johnny insisted that he felt fine, although he still had a slight fever, but nothing he could say convinced the doctor to release him. Johnny had complained the rest of the day; his grumbling finally and slowly ceased when his exhaustion from his ordeal finally weighed on him heavily enough to pull his eyelids closed at the end of the day. 

By morning, Johnny was dressed and waiting for Roy to pick him up, the doctor finally having given him the go-ahead to leave. Though still very tired, he felt much better, and stepping out into the beautiful party-cloudy day lifted his spirits even more. He hesitated just a moment before climbing into Roy’s truck, his hand resting on the door handle, savoring the feeling of the small freedom of just being able to go somewhere without restriction. He finally climbed in, and he and Roy headed out.

Roy wanted to stop at the sheriff’s first, so they went by his office, and Roy introduced Johnny to Tom Hicks. They chatted for a long while, finally departing after instilling many ‘thank-you’s. From there, they headed to Willa’s house, to say their final good-byes.

Willa greeted Johnny with a hug, fussing over him for a few minutes, then when she was sure he was okay, insisted they stay for lunch, since it was nearly noon when they arrived. She’d had ice tea waiting for them on the porch, and delicious sandwiches already made up, since Roy had told her he would bring Johnny by. Roy had spent a second night at Willa’s, and she’d treated him to a wonderful fried chicken dinner that was even better than Mike Stoker’s.

They enjoyed their lunch, and the parting was sad. The two men helped Willa clean up, and together they walked side by side to Roy’s car.

Roy took her hand first, covering it with his other, and thanked her for everything she had done for them both. Next it was Johnny’s turn to say good-bye. Roy stepped back and watched the emotional exchange. Though the two had spent a scarce amount of time together, they’d seemed to have formed a close bond.

Willa tried to blink the tears back from her gray eyes while Johnny’s arms encircled her in a hug. They held each other a long time, breaking apart after a full minute. Finally, Johnny spoke.

“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Willa.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“I promise I’ll come back and see you. I wish you had a phone so I could call you.”

“Maybe I’ll get me one,” she said unevenly.

“You do that.” He looked into her eyes and saw the tears. This was hard. “I’ll write to you, and give you my address and phone number, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You can call me from the Doc’s house,” he winked at her. That brought a small smile to her face.

Johnny glanced toward the carriage house. “Next time I’m here I’ll do that roof on the barn, okay? I noticed it looked like it could use some new shingles.”

Willa sniffed, willing her tears away, and stood straighter. “I’ll be countin’ on it.”

Johnny grinned at her, his white teeth sparkling behind the crooked smile. He put his hand on her cheek and she nearly started crying again. “I’m gonna miss you, Willa. You take care of yourself, okay? And, tell the Doc I said thanks again, will you?”

“I will.”

Johnny kissed her cheek and gave her one last hug, then stepped back. “Bye.”

Willa walked up next to the truck as he climbed in. Roy had moved to the driver’s seat while she and Johnny said their good-byes. “Good-bye, Willa,” he called over to her as he started the engine. Putting it in gear, he slowly moved forward, maneuvering onto the dirt road.

They heard Willa call, “You take good care of yourself, John Gage!” as they pulled away.

“I will!” Johnny called back. “You too!”

Then they were gone, and Willa’s figure diminished to a small dot as they headed down the dusty road away from her house. Johnny looked back at her a long time, then finally turned forward and looked thoughtfully out the windshield. “Hell of a woman,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Roy replied.

They made it through Deming, flew through the town, and left it behind in a cloud of dust as they entered the interstate, heading west.

Roy glanced over at Johnny. They had been traveling nearly an hour and his younger partner had barely said a word. Roy could only imagine what Johnny might be feeling, not having gone through the last eight months of turmoil his friend had. Roy had purposely kept silent, knowing it must be overwhelming for Johnny, and that he probably had a lot of things to sort out in his mind, but he was growing a bit unnerved by Johnny’s quietness. He just wasn’t used to it.

Roy finally decided to break the ice. “So, how does it feel?” he asked out of the blue.

Johnny jumped, totally caught off guard by the sudden break in the silence. He looked over at Roy. “How does what feel?” Johnny knew exactly what Roy meant, but denied it to himself; he didn’t really want to divulge his private thoughts at the moment.

Roy shrugged. “To be free. To be on your way home.”

Johnny regarded Roy. He looked relaxed, happy even. Though it was hot, the windows were open, and the wind blew through Roy’s thinning hair, sending it sailing in different directions. Roy’s arm was relaxed on the door frame, and his elbow protruded through the open window, his hand loosely gripping the steering wheel.

Johnny thought a moment. “I…don’t know quite how to describe it, Roy.” And he didn’t. It was more like a dream than a reality. He had to keep reminding himself over and over that he was really going home; that his hell was over. For some reason, he was having a hard time accepting that. A fear kept tugging in the pit of his stomach that was difficult to suppress; a fear that he might still have to go back to prison. Johnny knew those thoughts were unreasonable and irrational, but he felt them just the same.

Another side of him was elated to be going home, but it was tempered by an uneasiness with the thought of having to slide back into his old life. It had seemed so long ago he’d nearly forgotten the person he used to be. How was he ever going to be that person again? He had changed, both emotionally and physically. He had scars, again both emotional and physical, that he would never be able to erase. How were those scars going to affect him in his every day life? That uncertainly was unsettling. So many questions were unanswered.

Would he be able to go right back to work? How would that feel? Maybe it would help get his mind off everything that had happened. How would he feel under the stares of those friends and coworkers who knew what had happened to him? It would be uncomfortable and embarrassing; they would all want to know his story, a story he didn’t want to tell. Would there be people who didn’t want to be around him anymore because they still believed he had committed a crime?

And what about the job itself? The thought of being in close quarters with any of the men made his skin crawl, and he knew that was a territory he would have to face with certainty. It always seemed that he was the one who squeezed into the tight spaces, and often the job required him to work very close physically with not only his coworkers, but with total strangers. The way he felt right now, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. It would be very difficult. He took a deep breath, consciously trying to calm himself. Maybe once he got back to work, it would feel automatic, like it had before. Maybe he wouldn’t have time to think about his fears; he would be too busy.

A tiny piece of Johnny wished Roy hadn’t found him. Not that he wished he had died, but he almost wished he could have just stayed there with Willa and started a new life, wished he could remain anonymous, and disappear to a place where he felt safer. Actually, upon reflection, he hadn’t felt safer, with the constant fear of being caught tugging at him daily. Now he feared he would feel like a fish out of water when he returned. And returned to what? He had no home now. Where would he stay? Likely with Roy; that would be the most comfortable place. God, what would he say to the kids? They would have a million questions about being in jail – especially Chris, Johnny speculated. And Joanne, he could almost see the look of pity in her expressive eyes, that, he didn’t think he could stand. Johnny couldn’t burden Roy too long; he would have to go back to work almost immediately, if he could. Would Dr. Brackett clear him to go back to work? Would he be forced to see some shrink before he was able to do so?

Roy’s simple question had opened a myriad of fears and uncertainties in Johnny’s mind, and now Johnny sat staring out the windshield, his thoughts lost in a whirl.

Roy noticed that not only had Johnny not answered his question, but that he was lost deep in thought. “You want to talk about it, Johnny?” he asked softly.

            Johnny took a deep breath and sighed. It took him several seconds to answer. “Not really. You know what I want, Roy?”

            “What?”

            “I want to forget about everything that happened to me in that hell hole, and never think about it again as long as I live. I’m just not sure that’s gonna be possible.”

            Roy processed that thought before he answered. “Maybe not. But time has a way of healing things. And, you’ve got your friends to help.”

            “I wish….there was a way to erase the memories.”

            Me too. “Johnny….if you ever need to talk, I’m a  pretty good listener, you know.”

Johnny swallowed. “I know. You’re a pretty damn good friend too.”

Roy smiled. “Thanks, but I haven’t done anything for you that you wouldn’t have done for me.”

Johnny considered this. Roy was right. He became silent again. Five minutes passed.

An idea suddenly occurred to Roy. “Hey, Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna drive?”

Johnny’s head snapped over in Roy’s direction. “You sure?”

Roy shrugged. “Of course; why not?”

Johnny positively beamed at the thought. “Man, I’d love to drive. Thanks, Roy.”

“No problem.” Roy pulled the truck over to the side of the dusty and deserted road and got out, circled over to John’s side, and climbed in. Johnny had slid over to the driver’s seat.

Johnny threw the truck into gear and pulled back out onto the road; the sudden feeling of freedom and just sitting behind the wheel of a vehicle drove all the dark and depressing thoughts from his mind. It had been a long time since Johnny had driven, and his spirit lifted with just this simple act. It was a symbol of his newfound freedom, and gave him a feeling of power over his destiny that he hadn’t felt in quite a long time. Johnny was quiet, concentrating on the driving, enjoying it, slowly unwinding and relaxing.

Roy glanced over at him. Johnny looked tired, but good. His skin was dark and tan; the fever and sickness of a few days ago gone. Johnny actually looked a little heavier than before, but Roy realized that it was actually his build that was different; Johnny had obtained some impressive muscles during his incarceration, and Roy wondered how that had happened. His dark eyes had more lines around them than before, but they were sparkling with new life as his dark hair blew wildly around his face. Roy noticed a few gray hairs amongst the dark ones framing his profile. He was glad he’d been able to offer his friend this small pleasure, pleasantly surprised that his plan to get Johnny’s mind off his troubles by allowing him to do something he knew he loved, was working. It was a small gesture, but one that obviously was having a big impact on his friend.

Johnny glanced over at Roy. “You gonna let me drive when I get back to work?”

Hesitating a moment, Roy deadpanned, “Well, let’s not get carried away with this,” then broke into a smile. Johnny acknowledged the joke, and both friends laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

Late that afternoon, they followed a group of motorcyclists into a small town and decided to stop at the local diner for a bite to eat. They ate a quick meal, deciding to get back on the road again for a couple of hours before nightfall.

“You can drive,” Johnny said as they approached the truck. He was getting tired.

Roy climbed in, put the key into the ignition, and turned it. Nothing. He tried again. Then again. He turned to Johnny, and with a familiar teasing to his voice, and a twinkle in his eye, asked straight-faced, “What’d you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything to it!” Johnny said indignantly, splaying his hand across his chest.

Roy tried again and cursed under his breath when nothing happened.

“Maybe it’s your battery,” Johnny said. “How many miles you got on this one?”

“Eighty thousand.”

“Eighty thousand?! Well, that’s gotta be it. Maybe we can jump it. You got any cables?”

Roy got out and got the cables out of the bed of the truck. Together, they went inside the restaurant and found someone to pull their vehicle up next to the truck to attach the cables to. To the two paramedic’s dismay, the truck still would not start. Scratching their heads, they pondered what could be wrong. Johnny guessed it was the starter, but wasn’t sure.

They worked under the hood of the truck for a good while, trying to figure out the problem, to no avail. After talking with some of the locals, they determined there was no place to go for repairs other than Stan’s Garage a few blocks away, which was closed for the night. With Johnny pushing in back, and Roy pushing from the side and steering, the two rolled the truck the two blocks and into the parking lot of Stan’s Garage, locked the truck, and left it. Now, they had to find lodging for the night.

The restaurant’s cashier had told them of a small mom and pop motel about a half mile away, and grabbing their bags, the two hoofed it down the road to the seedy-looking one-story motel to inquire about a room. Surprisingly, the parking lot was almost full, taken up mostly by motorcycles.

Roy and John walked into the small office at the end of the building. The owner of the motel, a short balding man in a t-shirt, was busy swatting flies when they entered. He puffed on a cigar as they approached his desk.

“Evenin’,” he said to them.

“Evening. Uh, we’d like a room, please.”

The chubby man eyed them curiously for a moment. Nah, they don’t look the type. He looked down into his reservation book, chewing on his cigar. “Got one room left.”

Roy and John looked relieved. “We’ll take it,” Roy said, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Only one thing,”

“What’s that?” Johnny asked.

“This room’s only got one double bed.”

Roy and John looked at each other is dismay. “Is there any place else around?” Johnny inquired.

“Nope. This is it. I’m sorry, but there’s a motorcycle convention goin’ on in the next town. They all like to stay here ‘cause I got the lowest prices. Ten bucks a night, gentlemen.”

Roy groaned.

“You could try to find a place there, but I reckon they’re all booked up too; usually are. Excuse me.” The man turned away to answer the ringing telephone.

Johnny looked at Roy. “Let’s just take it, Roy. Look, I’ll sleep on the floor; you can have the bed.”

“Johnny, you don’t have – ”

“It’s okay, Roy. I’m used to a lot worse. I’m sure it’ll be like paradise compared to the prison,” he added without thinking.

The man had just hung up the telephone, and his head whipped around at overhearing Johnny’s comment. He stared at Johnny wide-eyed, his lip curling up distastefully. “Prison?! You some kind of criminal?”

Mortified at what he’d said, Johnny lowered his head uncomfortably, damning himself for letting that slip out.

Roy looked over at the man angrily. “No, sir, he’s not,” Roy clipped curtly. “Look, here’s the ten dollars; could we have the room key now?”

The cigar smoking man looked from Johnny to Roy, then muttered, “Sign here.” He pushed a piece of paper in front of Roy and Roy signed it. The man handed Roy a key. “You’re in room eleven; right down there on the end,” he pointed. “I’d advise you to keep to yourselves and,” he looked at Johnny, “stay out of trouble. Those motorcycle guys are nobody to mess around with.”

Johnny had looked away, red-faced with shame, but then his eyes lifted, blazing angrily at the man, livid at his insinuating comment about staying out of trouble. For a moment, the man drew back slightly at the menacing look Johnny’s face had acquired. Even Roy was slightly taken aback at the hard look on his friend’s face.

“C’mon, Johnny,” he urged gently. In an effort to get his friend away from this uncomfortable situation as quickly as possible, Roy nudged Johnny’s arm unthinkingly in the sore spot where he had been shot, causing Johnny to grimace and jerk away.

Mortified at the thought that he’d hurt his friend, and also at Johnny’s reaction, Roy’s eyes widened in regret. “Hey, Johnny, I’m sorry! I – ”

Johnny stormed out the door wordlessly.

Roy caught up with Johnny, and found him leaning against the wall next to the door to their room, arms folded, staring straight ahead. Roy unlocked the door, and followed him into the room, then sat down on a chair to wait after watching Johnny quickly make his way to the bathroom, closing the door. A few minutes later, he emerged, looking calmer, in fact, the expression on his face was rather blank now. Johnny sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, and Roy regarded him from the corner of his eye for a moment, debating what to say. Nervously, he started, “Johnny, I…I’m sorry about your arm. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Johnny’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled half-heartedly at his friend. “It’s okay, Roy; don’t worry about it.”

Roy’s mother hen instinct got the better of him, and he got up and moved to stand in front of Johnny. “Look, maybe I should take a look at it, make sure it’s not infected or something.” He sat down on the bed next to Johnny and reached slowly toward Johnny’s arm. The unexpected action prompted Johnny to jerk away, nearly causing him to topple off the bed and onto the floor. Instead, when he regained his balance, he abruptly stood up, almost lurching away from Roy. Roy stared up at him through troubled blue eyes, his mouth dropping open slightly, a sick feeling washing over him at the realization that his friend couldn’t stand to be touched – even by him.

Self-consciously, Johnny stammered, “No, it – it’s fine, Roy. The doc looked at it, and it’s not infected. Just still a little sore is all.” With that, Johnny strode over to the television and turned it on, too embarrassed at his overreaction to look Roy in the eye.

 Roy sighed and decided to let it go, and after a few moments of awkward silence, they settled down to watch a ball game on television. Preoccupied with worries about his friend, Roy didn’t notice that the screen was laced with snow and vertical hold problems. After an hour of unsuccessfully fiddling with the television controls, Johnny became frustrated and tired, and decided to make up his bed on the floor. Roy watched as he pulled a blanket from the shelf over the clothing rack.

Roy really didn’t want Johnny sleeping on the floor. After all he’d been through, Roy knew his friend was in desperate need of some comfort, among many other things. “Don’t sleep on the floor, Johnny. We can both squeeze in the bed.”

Johnny glanced at his friend uncomfortably, and was suddenly overwhelmed by anxiety. The thought of lying in bed next to another man made his skin crawl; he didn’t think he could possibly sleep that way. After some introspect, he told himself that it was just Roy, his best friend, but still couldn’t repress his discomfort.  In an attempt to cover his fear, he quipped with a nervous smile, “It’s okay. Really. Like I said, after the prison, sleepin’ on the carpet’ll be like a luxury to me, Roy.”

Roy swallowed, wondering at Johnny’s comparison of a worn out, hard and dirty shag carpeted floor to a luxury. He watched his friend as he spread a blanket out over the carpet, and then arranged a pillow at the head of his makeshift bed, once again feeling an uneasiness flow through him as he visualized what Johnny’s sleeping arrangements may have been while incarcerated. Hoping Johnny would be able to paint a better picture for him than the one his mind was conjuring up, he hesitantly asked in a soft voice, “Johnny….what….what kind of sleeping arrangements did they have in prison? They…they gave you a bed…didn’t they?” Immediately, Roy saw Johnny tense, and could sense his dismay at being asked a question about the prison, although he tried to hide it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked; I….you probably don’t wanna talk about it.”

Johnny sighed, and glanced up at Roy, whose eyes held a hopeful expression that Gage clearly saw as a desperate need to know. After everything that Roy had done for him, Johnny felt he owed it to him to share at least one small detail of his incarceration, much as he really didn’t want to discuss it. “It’s okay, Roy. Um, well, I had a broken down foam pad that was about one inch thick that laid on top of the concrete floor. Wasn’t exactly the Hilton, you know?”

Roy stared at Johnny, still amazed at his own incomprehension at what his friend had been through. Johnny felt Roy’s eyes on him, sensing the pity in them, and again wished he hadn’t brought anything up about the prison. Nervously, he added, “You know, they say a firm mattress is good for your back, but that was ridiculous.”

Not knowing how to respond to Johnny’s lighthearted attempt to divert attention away from the suffering he had endured, Roy tried to smile at his best friend, saying simply, “Yeah.” It was nearly a whisper.

Johnny hastily made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wanting desperately to escape Roy’s scrutiny.

Roy did the same when Johnny was done, and when he came out of the bathroom, Johnny was already settled on the floor, head on pillow, eyes closed. Roy climbed into the bed, feeling guilty, but deciding it wasn’t wise to argue with Johnny about it any further, and reached over to turn out the light. “Good-night, Johnny,” he said in the darkness.

“’Night, Roy,” a tired voice said from below. The only sound heard after that was the low hum of the window air conditioner, and an occasional motorcycle engine outside the door.

Part 6