MILK RUN: By Neil Leckman
Tuesday, August 9th, 2011I watched from the shadows as the man got off the bus, carrying a large suitcase. I waited hoping he would come far enough down the alley that I could jump him. Maybe he would have a few dollars I could steal. Instead he walked just far enough in that he could place the suitcase by the dumpster at the mouth of the alley, and turning walked away.Minutes passed and finally I crept up to the suitcase, looking often over my shoulder, and out into the dark street, making sure it wasn’t some trap.
Lifting it up was difficult because it was so heavy, so instead I laid it on its side. Popping open the latches I slowly opened it. The streetlights reflected off of something wet inside, the thick smell of the first stages of rot wafted up to my nose.Reaching in I gingerly touched it. Sticky wet was how it felt, but there was something under the thin layer of goo. Hooking my finger into it I carefully pulled it out.
Screaming, I fell back hard against the brick wall. A deflated human face devoid of eyes stared back at me, folded in half along the curve of the mouth, hair matted flat with thick blood.I heard stealthy movements to my right… I woke to the racking sounds of the man sitting across the aisle from me coughing, a deep throated phlegm filled sound.
He saw I was awake and leaning towards me asked, “Hey, do you have a cigarette?”
“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” I replied, thinking the last thing in this world he needed was one more of those.
My sister had called me late last night and told me my father had passed away, since I was low on cash my only option was to take a bus. Since it was just days before Christmas the only ride available that left right away was a “Milk Run”.
They’re called milk runs, because the bus stops at every tiny little Podunk town it passes. That is large enough to have a bus station. It was going to be a twenty three hour long ride, mainly due to the constant stops along the way. The last eight hours I had been just sitting here, watching other passengers, too poor to buy something to read, my last bit of money bought the ticket. Behind me I could hear the sounds of the mother in the far back of the bus as she quietly tried to sooth her two younger children, as the baby she held cried. Standing she pulled a diaper bag out from under her seat and began changing him. The bald man two rows back from the man trying diligently to blow out a lung kept watching him very closely. He looked up at me for a moment, and something deep in those eyes reminded me of my dream. That’s when he smiled and turned back to watching the other man. At the next town the coughing man got off the bus, followed moments later by the bald man, and another man who I didn’t notice sitting behind me in a seat by the woman riding with her children.
We stopped at this station for a half hour while a few passengers were added and several others got off. I dozed again only waking when the bus lurched forward on its way once again. Yawning I sat up and looked around. The bald man was no sitting were the man who kept coughing had been, and tucked under his seat was an old battered suitcase, just like the one from my dream.
That woke me up instantly. I did a double take, and when I did the bald man smiled at me again. That’s when I noticed his eyes, light honey yellow, with flecks of brown, made red when highlighted by the lighter color. Hypnotic in their unusual shades almost like watching sparks dance in a fire. I looked away, stunned and unsure what it all meant. I noticed that the man was now watching a young woman who sat three rows ahead of me; she had begun coughing with that deep sound of phlegm in her lungs, racking loud coughs that disrupted the otherwise quiet of the night. Outside the windows was darkness as we crossed a barren part of Wyoming, the only living things for miles. There are a few lights on in each of the seats and in the reflections cast by the windows I notice that the bald man and his friend have reflections that shimmer like watching a reflection on a window during a rain storm. Ripples move down their faces.
Both turn and look at me through their reflections and something sinister seems to shine in their kaleidoscopic eyes. When I turn and look at them directly I see that both appear to be sleeping, yet looking back at the window their reflections are wide awake! I must be dreaming, or half awake, but when I pinch myself it hurts enough to prove that isn’t the case at all.
I must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing I knew she was gone, and an elderly woman was sitting there. I felt feverish, and it was difficult to breathe normally, sudden racking coughs started, and it was only with some effort that I was able to stop. Looking out the window I noticed that the bald men were watching me intently, with an odd hungry look in their eyes. Damn, the fever must be hitting me worse than I knew!!! Turning to look at the closest one he smiled at me and a cold shiver ran down my spine triggering another bout of deep coughing. I curled up covering myself with my jacket for warmth. It felt like an arctic blast was coming through my closed window, which I knew wasn’t true.
I was jarred from my fitful sleep when the bus stopped in the next small town. Slowly I got up from my seat and went into the tiny bus station, looking for a restroom. I followed the signs downstairs to a dimly lit grungy bathroom. It had recently been cleaned, but some things can’t be cleaned. The place just had an unclean feel to it, but I needed a drink and the fountain outside the bathroom, though filthy, was my only source. As I was walking out of the station to board the bus again I caught a movement out of the corner of my left eye. Turning I spotted one of those strange men, carrying one of those suitcases into a dark alley there. Moments later he walked out of the alley empty handed and went inside the station.
Finally I had a chance to see what they did with those old battered suitcases. Looking around to see if anyone was watching I walked over the alley, and stepped into the darkness. There, open in front of an old metal dumpster was the empty suitcase. Standing to one side of the suitcase was me. Shock rooted me to the spot as I smiled at me, a fit of coughing set in, and I doubled over trying to catch my breath. Each cough sent a cloud of particles into the night air, and my replica inhaled them hungrily. I slumped against the cold brick wall, unable to stop coughing, watching myself waste away…
Smiling I bent down and carefully folded my old skin, placing it in the suitcase. I had to fairly quick, the next bus was due in and I had places to go.
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©2011 Neil Leckman
