Way Past Legal by Norman Green Read Free Book Online Page A

dogging along, but no way you're winning any prizes, bro. I was really hoping Nicky was young enough, that I had gotten to him in time for him to be spared that, but there's no way to know that, and besides, there were still plenty of things that could go wrong. I mean, I was just making this up as I went along, and on top of that, Tommy Lee Jones might be right around the next corner.
     
     
     
    Two
THE MAINE COAST GETS WILDER and more beautiful the farther north you go. I had been a street rat my whole life, had grown up thinking there was only two kinds of trees, Christmas trees and the other kind. Nicky and I found plenty of places to stop and lots of stuff to look at, and we had no problem finding motels with vacancies. We bought matching plaid flannel shirts at L.L. Bean, we climbed the hill above Camden and looked down at the boats in the harbor, we rode a ferryboat over to Vinalhaven Island and back, we drove to the top of Cadillac Mountain. I don't know what I was looking for, and I began to doubt myself, you know, maybe I should have had more of a plan before I jumped into this, but I knew in my heart that if I had stopped to think about things too long I would have wimped out. By the time we hit Washington County, up at the northern tip of the Maine coastline, we were way past the tourist zone, the radio stations all played hillbilly music and gospel, there were deserted houses with peeling tar paper in the middle of fields of tall grass, and I halfway expected to see Jed Clampett somewhere, except it was too damn cold up there for the way he dressed. We were a couple of hours north of a town called Machias when a CV joint in the front end of the minivan let go. I coasted to a stop over at the side of the road, feeling lucky to get there, because I'd suddenly lost all influence over the van's direction. I got out, cursing, kicking the front fender. There was not a house in sight. As a matter of fact, I could not remember exactly how long it had been since I'd seen human habitation. I looked up and down the road, but there weren't any cars around, either. Nicky climbed into the driver's seat and rolled down the window.
     
     
"Poppy," he said, sounding worried. "What happened?"
     
     
"Sit down, Nicky. Everything's gonna be all right."
     
     
He looked around doubtfully. "Are we gonna have to sleep in the woods?"
     
     
"Wow, wouldn't that be fun, huh?" He blinked at me a few times, so I went over and rubbed his head. "Don't worry. We won't have to sleep in the woods, I promise. Just sit down and be cool, okay?"
     
     
"Okay." He climbed back over to the passenger side, sat down and hugged his knapsack.
     
     
And then it was my turn to look around and start worrying if we'd have to sleep in the woods. They stretched as far as you could see, pitching and rolling over the low hills that marched off to the horizon. Not a single restaurant, not one gas station, not one 7-Eleven, not a single goddam thing to eat except for the seagulls, and good luck catching one of those. I had been driving through this landscape for what seemed an eternity, and it had not occurred to me until that very minute what a desert the place could be. I mean, you can't eat the trees, can't eat the grass, can't eat the rocks. What else was there?
     
     
I cracked the hood of the van and propped it open. Might as well advertise.
     
     
I heard the sound before I saw the vehicle. From far off it was just a low rumble, but as it got closer it sounded like a farm tractor with a bad muffler. I saw it going down a hill in the distance, coming south, and it seemed to be moving very slowly for a motorized vehicle. I couldn't quite make out what it was, some kind of a pickup truck.
     
     
It was a Jeep, green, white, and rust-colored. I guessed it had to be from the early fifties. I leaned against the minivan and watched it make its calm and unhurried way down the road. It stopped when it reached us, right in the traffic lane, and a