On the Road
"You're leavin'."
The words stung. Sal wasn't certain why everyone was treating this as a betrayal.
"Yes, b'y. I figure it's time to go 'fore I burns down the entire goddamn town, don't ye think?" Sal crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Laine - her best friend for life - who looked as though she was going to break down crying. They were standing at the public docks of Port Aux Basques. The Lukey was loaded, fueled and ready to go, with its GPS pointed toward New York City.
The words stung, but Sal wasn't changing her mind.
"Yeah, but the USA?" Laine looked alarmed, the gelled spikes of her short blonde hair quivering as she shook from head to toe. "They're gonna get out their guns and shoot ye 'til there's nothin' left. 'Specially with that shit goin' down there about... people like you."
This notion - about the guns, not about the witch-hunt - actually made Sal laugh, and she held her oil-skin overalls up as she bent double. "You're some funny," she breathed. "C'mon, what's the worst that could happen? I mean, if I keeps myself level-headed, then --"
"I'm serious, Sal! They could kill ye! And then what would we do?"
Sal pondered this for a moment. Her friends would miss her if something went wrong. But if she didn't go, she ran the risk of letting her little human matchbook abilities burn down Port Aux Basques all the way from the Mary Brown's to the Shoppers Drug Mart, possibly taking out the ferry depot in the process.
It was an image she hoped would stay firmly in her imagination and wouldn't be grounded in reality. Ever.
And if keeping that image from becoming real meant getting in the boat and sailing down the Eastern Seaboard, she'd do it.
Sal fished in her pocket and pulled out a single Marlboro Light. She stuck it in her mouth, then snapped her fingers right in front of the end of it. It lit, and she grinned, taking a long drag and blowing it out slowly.
"Ah, Laine," she said, "don't ye worry 'bout me. I figures I'll get on all right."
"I hope so."
The words stung. Sal wasn't certain why everyone was treating this as a betrayal.
"Yes, b'y. I figure it's time to go 'fore I burns down the entire goddamn town, don't ye think?" Sal crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Laine - her best friend for life - who looked as though she was going to break down crying. They were standing at the public docks of Port Aux Basques. The Lukey was loaded, fueled and ready to go, with its GPS pointed toward New York City.
The words stung, but Sal wasn't changing her mind.
"Yeah, but the USA?" Laine looked alarmed, the gelled spikes of her short blonde hair quivering as she shook from head to toe. "They're gonna get out their guns and shoot ye 'til there's nothin' left. 'Specially with that shit goin' down there about... people like you."
This notion - about the guns, not about the witch-hunt - actually made Sal laugh, and she held her oil-skin overalls up as she bent double. "You're some funny," she breathed. "C'mon, what's the worst that could happen? I mean, if I keeps myself level-headed, then --"
"I'm serious, Sal! They could kill ye! And then what would we do?"
Sal pondered this for a moment. Her friends would miss her if something went wrong. But if she didn't go, she ran the risk of letting her little human matchbook abilities burn down Port Aux Basques all the way from the Mary Brown's to the Shoppers Drug Mart, possibly taking out the ferry depot in the process.
It was an image she hoped would stay firmly in her imagination and wouldn't be grounded in reality. Ever.
And if keeping that image from becoming real meant getting in the boat and sailing down the Eastern Seaboard, she'd do it.
Sal fished in her pocket and pulled out a single Marlboro Light. She stuck it in her mouth, then snapped her fingers right in front of the end of it. It lit, and she grinned, taking a long drag and blowing it out slowly.
"Ah, Laine," she said, "don't ye worry 'bout me. I figures I'll get on all right."
"I hope so."