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Chapter Nine
On The Road Again
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Its a 2,300 mile trek from Macon Georgia almost straight across the United States to Los Angeles.

When Eadgils and the world was young, such a journey would have taken a year. But times have changed, and so the world has shrunk, even as it has grown.

Even so, while an airplane would make the trek in six to eight hours, if he were to drive straight through it would still take over thirty-six hours. While he did not like the exposed feeling of driving that distance, he liked the thought of dealing with the security hyperconscious airlines even less, since it would mean traveling just about naked, as far as weapons are concerned.

He sat in the car, mapping out the route for a bit. He could go through Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, stopping in Dora, right on the border of Arkansas and Oklahoma if he drove all day. Then on Monday, he could push on through Texas, and New Mexico, stopping at Albuquerque overnight, before continuing on through Arizona to get to California. Broken up that way, he would have about fourteen hours of driving each day. If he kept up the pace, he would be in Los Angels by Tuesday evening. Assuming, of course, he headed straight out to Oklahoma now. It was already a bit after ten in the morning, so decided he'd better get moving. Filling up the car's gas tank, he got out on the highway, and headed west.

Four uneventful hours later, he stopped in Adamsville, Alabama for some food, to top off the gas tank, and stretch aching legs.

Swinging into an Arby's, he parked, and headed inside.

First stop was the restroom, for some much needed relief. He caught himself just as he started to walk into the Men's Room. Turning instead back to the Women's Room, he headed in, and took care of his needs as clinically as possible.

He then washed his hands, and headed back out to the counter where he ordered a Giant Roast Beef, a side of Cheese Sticks, and a large drink.

Filling the cup with lemonade, so he wouldn't have to worry about caffeine, he sat down and awaited his number.

As it was called, a loud group of teenagers came in and milled before the menu, laughing and joking.

Heading up, he lifted his tray and had just turned to head back to the table with his drink on it when one of the kids knocked him from the side.

His tray jerked, and the box with the cheese sticks and the sandwich leapt into the air, only to be caught by the fast hands of a dark haired young man standing behind the group of teenagers.

Eadgils bent over to pick up the fallen, but still sealed package of marinara sauce, as the young man stepped forward, holding out the rest of his food.

"Here, Miss, I think these are yours," the guy said with a soft voice, with a definite southern drawl. But what really drew Eadgils's attention was the faint, almost undetectable tingle, signaling a pre-Immortal. Not as strong a one as The Girl's had been, but unmistakable in any case. Some claimed new Immortals couldn't detect pre-Immortals, because none of them ever seemed to do so until they were several hundreds of years old. Eadgils had always believed it wasn't inability, but rather inexperience. The signature of a pre-Immortal was the same as the one of a full fledged Immortal, in all but strength. Pre-Immortals had very weak Quickenings. Some times so faint you had to almost be touching them before you could detect it. But in any case, Eadgils certainly detected it coming from this young man.

"Thanks", he said letting the boy replace the food on his tray. Looking at him, Eadgils judged the kid to be in his middle to late twenties.

"No problem. I sort of saw what was comin' down, and thought I could lend a hand," he said, looking away from Eadgils eyes for a second to glance at his hands, still resting where they had just deposited the food back on the tray, "or I suppose two, in this case."

Eadgils stifled a groan, and instead smiled at the boy's attempt at humor.

"Anyhow, my name's Patrick." He continued, his eyes again leaving Eadgils face, to proceed in a swift, but unsuccessfully surreptitious scan down and back up Eadgils's body, hesitating both times in the region of the chest.

Feeling an unfamiliar flush, Eadgils said "Well, Patrick, mine's Sue, and I just want to say thanks again."

Turning, and resisting the urge to run, Eadgils headed back to his table, sitting deliberately with his back to the counter this time.

He had taken the first bite of sandwich, opened the marinara, and was about to dip his first cheese stick, when Patrick stepped around into view, holding a drink cup. "I was wonderin' Miss Sue, would you mind if I sat with you? I don't mean to impose or nothin, it's just, I dunno. I know it sounds corny, but I feel like I should know ya'all for some reason. I know I don't, heck, I ain't even from 'round here, I'm from Montgomery, just passin' through on ma way to Memphis. If you don't want me ta bother y'all, just say so, and I'll leave ya 'lone."

Eadgils hesitated. He had a good idea what it was that was attracting the young man to him, and he didn't think it was all just Sue's good looks. Just as an Immortal could sense a pre-Immortal, a pre-Immortal could sense an Immortal, if they knew what to listen for. Considering the strength of his Quickening, he had no doubt that on some level the boy in front of him was feeling the force of Eadgils Quickening, and quite possibly he was responding to it. Also, there was what he saw almost as a duty for the older Immortals to give a helping hand to the new ones. He had gotten help himself from Ralas oh so long ago. Without that one's sage advise, he was sure he would not be sitting here now. Actually, he thought with a giggle, as he nodded at Patrick, he really wasn't sitting here now. Sue was. But the meaning was still the same.

"So," Eadgils said as Patrick sat opposite him, "What are you doing heading to Memphis for?"

"Lookin' for a job, mostly. Got kin up there, hoping they can take me in, and that a new town 'll give me a better shot. Lost damn-all but my shirt back home. How bout you? You live 'round here?"

"Nope. I'm on my way back home. California." Eadgils replied.

"Darn! You're not going to try and be a TV star are ya? You're sure pretty enough, if ya don mind my sayen so, but all I ever hear are bad stories about folks who try that."

Stifling another giggle, Eadgils answered, "No. At least I don't think so. I haven't really planned on what I'm going to do once I get there. Lay around the house for a bit, get in touch with some friends, evaluate my life, and make a plan, is actually what I was thinking at this point. I'm sort of on vacation from my job."

"Woah. So what ya doin' in this place?" Patrick asked.

Eadgils couldn't help but smile, as he answered, "Eating lunch," while waving the dipped, but still uneaten cheese stick with a grin, "Or at least trying to."

Patrick got a sheepish look on his face, then looked over Eadgils's shoulder, and said "Oh, ma food!"

As they ate, Eadgils was able to draw a somewhat sad story out of Patrick.

Born and raised in a relatively poor family in Mississippi, he went away to college in Alabama, where he studied Computer Sciences. Degree in hand, he got a nice well-paying job at an up and coming dot-com. Life was great, and Patrick married a local girl he had been dating while in college, bought a nice house, and started to live his future.

But he and his wife could not get pregnant. Finally, they went to see some specialists, and several costly tests later, it was determined he was shooting blanks.

Literally the next day, he found himself locked out of the building where he worked. It seemed the company had gone bankrupt and hadn't bothered to tell anyone. Word was he shouldn't expect much of a final paycheck either, assets would be liquidated, and eventually the monies raised would be divided amongst the ex-employees on the basis of what percentage they were owed. That process could take as much as a year, however, and would likely yield less than 10% of what he was owed.

Five months and three missed mortgage payments later, and it was looking like the house was a goner as well. He still had not found a real job. His wife was literally harping at him so much he finally agreed to take a job at Radio Shack. Two weeks later instead of the much needed unemployment check, he received a letter informing him that since he now had a job, he no longer qualified for Unemployment. It was that same night when his wife told him she was pregnant, and leaving him for her new boyfriend. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Alimony.

He fell into a depression, stopped even going in to work, and just hid in the house, drinking the last of his money up as fast as it came in. When the phone company cut off the service, at least the bill collectors stopped calling. Unfortunately, the people from the bank decided to serve him the foreclosure papers in person, so that didn't help as much as one might think. His car had been repossessed about the same time he'd started pimping batteries for Radio Shack, so when they literally threw him out of the house (ok, they threatened to have him arrested if he didn't leave on his own.) he had nothing left. Just a bag of clothes. That was when he decided to catch a ride to Memphis. If nothing else, he could leach off his uncle for a while, and hopefully he could find a new job in a new town. He certainly couldn't do much worse than he had.

Eadgils shook his head. If ever there was someone on a bad streak, it was Patrick.

Looking down at his tray, he noted with dismay he had managed less than a third of his sandwich, and only two of the now cold and yucky cheese sticks. But he felt quite stuffed.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Patrick, but the time has come for me to hit the road again. Maybe I'll see you around sometime. Good Luck!"

"Ok," he said, standing and lifting his tray as well, then suddenly looking around in panic. "Crap! Where are those kids?"

Whirling, he tossed his tray back on the table and ran for the door.

Looking out through the window, Eadgils could see someone tossing a brown canvas suitcase out of a car, and drive away.

Patrick made it outside before the suitcase stopped rolling. Bending over, he picked it up, only to have the handle break loose on one side, causing the suitcase to swing back towards the ground and slide along it opening the zipper and spilling the contents into the dirt.

Eadgils had to fight an insane urge to laugh, the whole scene looking like something Laurel and Hardy would have staged in one of their films.

As Patrick bent down to start gathering his belongings, Eadgils made a decision. He could give the boy a lift to Memphis, he supposed. After all, picking up strays was something he was always good at.

Taking a deep breath, Eadgils headed on outside, and called to Patrick, "Need a new ride?"

Gesturing to the car he added, "I'll be passing through Memphis this evening, so I can drop you off, if you want."

Patrick looked up in amazement, then said "I'd be much obliged, Miss."

"It's Sue, ok?"

"Ok Sue."

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