TABLE OF CONTENTS The old junker ground to a halt in front of a small petrol station roughly 150 miles from where Jimmy had started. He had bought the only vehicle available in town, an old pickup truck whose rust-covered surfaced hinted that blue had been the original color. It had been just after midnight when he actually left the small town for good, following the small road out of town for 15 miles until he met with the main highway that ran south.
The roads here were littered with potholes and cracks. The sun had beaten the life from the highways and roads, making it difficult for Jimmy to drive much more than 40 kilometers per hour. It had slowed him down, but it hadn t stopped him. There hadn t been time to warn the others in the group of what had happened. For all he knew, they had all been busted. Jimmy wiped his forehead with a shirt from his backpack and stepped from the truck into the dusty parking lot.
He pulled the backpack from the front seat of the truck and fumbled through it for the small map he had purchased in town. It had been that same map that had told Jimmy where to go. This particular town had a bus station where he hoped he could buy a ticket further south, eventually hoping to catch a flight or ship that would take him back across the ocean toward his home. He walked over to a...
