Bent twig (Cumberland Saga)

Deputy Rosa Canina slowed her cruiser down as she approached the stranger dragging a piece of luggage. Its not like she had much choice. The twisting road through the hills had no shoulder and the stranger was resolutely plodding up the middle of the lane reserved for westbound traffic. Deputy Canina followed him for almost one-hundred feet and the stranger did not so much as turn around to look at her vehicle. Seeing no oncoming traffic, Canina shifted to the eastbound lane and passed him.

She did not gun the engine but passed him slowly so she could give him a good eyeballing before stopping two-hundred feet in front of him and turning on her flashers. She was out of her unit before he trudged up to her.

The kid was wearing three, skin-tight Tee-shirts, each with sleeves one inch shorter than the one beneath it. Fluorescent green - black - pink on top. They were intended to display his physique but only served to highlight his soft belly. Baggy shorts that he had to keep hitching up so they wouldn't slide down. Wearing shower-slides with bare feet. Not exactly what Deputy Canina would expect a long distance walker to be wearing in early-April.

The walker made as if to pass the squad car when Deputy Canina used her command voice “I need to ask you a few questions.”

The kid’s head jerked. “Are you putting me under arrest?”

“Don’t get sassy with me. I am authorized to stop and interview citizens in public places as long as I am “reasonable” “ Deputy Canina barked.

The kid pouted “WHAT EVER!”

Deputy Canina didn’t have to ask if he was from around here. He stood out like a 1000 Watt beacon in the night and everything about him screamed “CITY”.

“Do you know anybody in Lusk?” Canina asked.

“What is Lusk?” the teen-ager wanted to know.

“It is the next town up the road” Canina informed him. “It is about 20 miles away or about ten more hours of walking.”

She had deliberately doubled the distance. Sometimes you gotta fire-for-effect.

The kid’s head sagged.

Looking more closely at his face, she saw a split lip and the promise of a magnificent shiner. “Your parents do that to you?” she asked.

“Naw. They wouldn’t dare” the boy sneered. “I got jumped by a hillbilly.”

Well, that ruled out domestic abuse although Canina might have turned a blind-eye in this case. The kid radiated insolence.

Looking over the kid’s pale, spindly legs and knobby knees with the gooseflesh showing, she figured he couldn’t have walked more than a couple of miles. All told, there were about six driveways he could have come down in that distance.

“Somebody drop you off in a car?” Canina asked.

“Nope. I walked from South Carolina” the kid declared.

Canina couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or if he was so stupid that he expected her to believe the lie. She was leaning toward the second.

“Where are you going?” Canina asked.

“I don’t have to tell you” the kid said.

“Nope. You don’t. But that means that I have to take you in because you are a traffic hazard. Not only that, but you are not dressed for the weather” Canina said.

“You can’t do that without my permission” the boy said.

“I am a sworn law enforcement official and a public safety officer. If I decide you are a risk to yourself or others, I have a duty that I WILL perform whether you give me ‘permission’ or not” Canina bristled.

“So, are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Canina put it back on the kid.

The kid didn’t say anything.

“What is your name?” Canina asked.

“Evan” the kid said.

“What is your last name?”

“I don’t need to tell you that” the kid said.

His story about getting “...jumped by a hillbilly…” was looking pretty shaky. Most rural people would have avoided this kid the same way they would avoid a rabid skunk or a yellow-jackets' nest.

“Tell me about the hillbilly that jumped you” Canina switched topics.

“Outa nowhere and for no reason he just started punching me in the face” the kid said angrily.

“Uh-huh” Canina intoned with very little expression. It was a trick her training officer had trained her in. Sound bored and just the slightest bit interested.

Eyes suddenly blazing, Evan added “And he said it was because I called him a muther-fucker!!!”

“Did you?” Canina asked. “That is, did you call him a muther-fucker?”

“So what if I did. Everybody says that word” Evan retorted, defensively.

“Maybe in the city. But did you call him a muther-fucker?” Canina pressed.
 

Evan looked away, unable to look Canina in the face.

“Where are you heading?” Canina asked.

“St Louis” the kid responded.

“Missouri?” Canina asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Is there another St Louis?” the kid asked.

“That has to be five-hundred miles away” Canina informed him. Looking down at his slides and then back up at his face she said “It would take you 250 hours to walk there, not counting time for sleepin’ and eatin’. You ain’t gonna make it.”

“Tell my your parent’s phone number and I will call them so they can pick you up” Canina said.

The kid smirked. “Won’t do you any good. They locked up their phones and don’t use them.”

Bingo!!! His parents had to be at the Amish place, just a mile east of where Canina passed Evan. She suspected that he would have been more reasonable if she had caught up with him after he had walked a couple of hours. Blisters have a way of taking the wind out of the sails of run-aways but she couldn't afford the risk of his causing traffic accidents.

“Throw your suitcase in the back seat. I am taking you back to your parents.”
 

Evan seemed to waver and then decided to comply. He could run away any time he wanted to.

Canina had him sit in the front seat, in direct violation of department policy.

He was surprised when she pulled into the drive for Copperhead Cove. How did she know?

Seeing the boulder in the drive, Canina called in and told dispatch that she would be away from her unit for a bit and gave her location. Then she opened the door and said, “Looks like you and me are gonna do a little walkin’”
 

Evan pitched his suitcase into the brush. “I ain’t pulling it up that hill.”

Looking around the turn-around area, she saw Amira’s Subaru. She also noticed a long line of fresh scratches along the driver’s side from the headlight to the taillights. Looking at the back of the vehicle, she saw a fist-sized triangular rock with paint shavings on the jagged edges.

She would put that in her report and let the parents deal with the boy. She would also include that the boy clearly stated that his parents had not hit him and would include what he had done to provoke the damage done to his face. Stories had a way of changing over time.

On cue, the dogs started barking and there were four women standing outside of the first house. The oldest woman was holding a shotgun, which she pointed toward the sky after she identified Officer Canina and Evan.

Amira immediately started fussing at the boy and hectored him as they walked back to Constanze’s old cabin.

Canina looked at Alice and offered her professional opinion “That boy is going to be nothing but trouble.”

“I am very afraid that might be so” Alice responded.

***

This was NOT a fun chapter to write but one that needed to be written.

Kids who run-away are usually very naive but think they are sophisticated. They do not have any grasp of "reality". They engage in magical thinking. Usually, they are scooped up after they make it to a big city and have been in-processed by human traffickers or drug dealers. They are damaged goods at that point.

Evan was lucky Canina found him long before that happened.

Evan is only a slight exaggeration of the entitled, responsibility shirking children our society is creating in very large numbers. He is fourteen. Can he be saved? 

What would you do if you were Alice or Sig?