Chapter 8: Eugene on His Own
Once the bus had pulled to a stop, the young man swiftly lowered himself from the roof, dropping on to the ground below. Then he darted behind a nearby shed to see what would happen. A few passengers disembarked, including the elderly lady. She had the driver in tow, who followed with a board expression. He looked around both sides of the vehicle, stood back on tip-toes to peer at the roof and eventually gave up.
“You must have seen a bird and mistaken it, ma’am,” He told the woman loudly, who shook her purple purse, gestured at the roof and said something which Eugene could not hear.
“Naw, he couldn’t hide up there in the center,” The driver gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. There is no one up there.”
Which was entirely true, now. Waiting his opportunity, Eugene darted back over to the bus once everyone had disembarked. Using his picks, he undid the lock and swung the compartment open. It was only about half full of luggage, leaving a narrow, shallow space almost as long as the bus but just big enough for a man to fit in otherwise. Many people would have been afraid of being enclosed in such a cramped, sealed compartment, but Eugene had a long experience of living in tight places. He flung himself in and pulled the door shut behind him, turning the latch on the inside so that it would hold itself closed. The bus began moving then, seemingly much faster than before. But Eugene knew that the lower to the road you were, the faster the vehicle felt like it was moving. Really they were going to same speed it had been when he was up on the roof.
“Hey, bud,” A voice broke into his contemplation, “Mind getting your feet off my ankle?”
Reactionarily, the young man shifted his legs over a few inches, before his head jerked up and hit the ceiling as he tried to see who had spoken. It was a voice about two people-lengths away from him, or perhaps just slightly closer. Someone else shifted in the darkness and the voice said, “Ah, thanks. Pretty cozy in here, ain’t it?”
“Yes, though I didn’t know that anyone else was enjoying the solitude in here like I was,” Eugene replied, still trying to see the speaker. But with the door closed no light came in whatsoever, making it impossible. He couldn’t even make out the colors of the lumpy duffle bags and suitcases he was lying on, much less whoever was down at his feet.
“Heh, I wouldn’t be 'enjoying’ it, so to speak, if I had been able to get ahold of a ticket, and neither would you, I bet,” The mysterious speaker returned, finishing with a snicker.
“That’s what you think,” Eugene told him haughtily, “But for your information I have a ticket. I’m simply very sensitive to other people and prefer to ride alone.”
“Yeah, right,” His companion snorted, laughing so much now that he hit Eugene’s feet with his hard little shoes in his convulsions.
“Cut it out! You’re kicking me!”
“Oh, sorry about that, pal,” The other man laid still after just a few more chokes of laughter. They rode on in silence for a short time, before the hidden voice asked suddenly, “So, what do you thinks better; to have a real bed in a cheap inn for the night, or get a quick dinner?”
“Why don’t you go to some flop house where you can get both for half a dollar?” Eugene suggested caustically.
“Hmm, yeah, there’s always that,” His unwanted companion seemed to be lost in thought for another space of time, before jerking out abruptly, “Ah, what the heck. I’ll take the dinner and sleep where ever I can. Say, pal, you got any cash on ya?”
“No,” The thief spoke firmly, putting his hand and hook to his pockets as a precaution.
They said nothing more as the bus rolled on across the land, every bump or dip in the road felt through the tires by both of them. Eugene became cramped eventually and squirmed in to a new position, incidentally moving further from the other hidden bus rider. Using a squishy bag as a pillow, he lay his head back and fell into a light doze.
It was about a few hours after that when the bus came to its last stop. Hurrying to get out before baggage was retrieved, Eugene undid the latch and stepped out. The bright sunlight was almost blinding after the long period of dark. Shading his eyes, he saw his companion also stumble out from the compartment. He was a ratty, gray-coated fellow with too much nose and not enough eyes, who wore a hat which had been patched multiple times with different colors of felt. He went wandering off toward the public restrooms, while Eugene hastily closed up the compartment and went in the opposite direction. The other sneak rider was not of the sort he would wish to associate with, or be seen hanging around.
But there was someone Eugene wished to see disembark, if possible. Hiding behind a nearby building, he waited to watch the door as the passengers began to get out. he was disappointed three times before the one he was waiting for stepped to the ground. Irene, her head held upright and bag in hand, walked to the edge of the street. There she stood for a moment, looking up and down, before crossing and entering a middle-class diner.
It was not until then that Eugene realized how hungry he was. He did not have more than a few quarters in his pocket, but a clever young man did not need money to get into a restaurant. Following in the woman’s footsteps, he crossed the road. There he slipped around the back of the building and entered a side-door, quietly taking up an apron which hung on pegs on the wall. He tied the dark, crisp material around his middle, put the second set of strings over his head and stepped into the door nearby labeled 'Kitchen.’ His hook was hidden under the edge of the apron.
Steam and cooking smells filled the area. Metal stove tops, racks and counters gleamed. The wooden chopping block in the center had a knife laying on it beside a pile of chopped chicken. With a charming smile Eugene won over the waitresses who stood nearby to receive the next platters going out. With a bow he explained to the head chef, “I was asked to help out for a few hours here. Seems that the boss thinks the dinner hour is going to be a rush the next few nights.”
“Good,” The chef was a tall, hefty man with a very sparse amount of gray hair, “Get to work, then. I think a new customer just came in.”
Smiling to himself, Eugene hurried away. He could put off eating for the pleasure of serving Irene first. In the pocket of the apron had been a paper pad and a stubby pencil. With a touch of trouble he drew these out as he went, stepping quietly up to the table where the woman sat. He watched her without a word, enjoying the way her dark hair gleamed on the top of her head as it was bowed toward the menu. She had not seen him, and no one else was paying any attention, so he enjoyed himself a few minutes more before clearing his throat gently and speaking, “Are you ready to order, miss?”
Irene had never heard his voice when he was a servant in Mr. Ruble’s house. She did not look up as she said, “Not yet. Just a glass of water for now, please.”
“Of course,” There was never a more obedient waiter than Eugene as he went to get her a glass of icy water from the fountain nearby. He used his hook to flip on the spigot while he steadied the glass with the other hand, until the cup was full. Then he clinked in a few pieces of ice before carrying it back to her.
“I believe I am ready to order, now,” She told him, finally looking up. For just a minute her eyes widened as they took in his hook hand and his face, before her expression became hidden once again behind an outward coolness, “You again?”
“Again? What do you mean? I don’t think you’ve been in our restaurant before, ma’am, more’s the pity,” He returned pleasantly, giving her a roguish grin. He had noticed her hesitancy over the menu and made the reckless guess on that bit of evidence that she had not been there before.
“Why are you following me?” She asked without returning the smile, “Last I knew, you worked for Mr. Ruble.”
Dropping his pretense, Eugene leaned forward on the table to say, “Look, I got in a bit of trouble and had to leave in a hurry. Please, don’t tell anyone who I am. And I wasn’t following you on purpose; I didn’t even know you were on that bus until I hung down and saw you.”
“Like a chattering monkey,” Irene observed.
“Yes,” Eugene agreed, “But now that I’m here, why don’t you let me take your order?”
On the last words he spread his arms wide, as if inviting her to take all of the restaurant into her order, if she wished. This turned out to be a mistake.
Suddenly there was a hysterical shriek from the next table over, “Look at his hand! It’s Captain Hook!”
“Oh no! He’s going to capture us!”
It was two little girls, twins evidently, who had obviously been watching too many animated cartoons. Spotting his metal appendage, they both began to shriek and wail, accusing him of being the pirate captain of legend. Their parent’s tried to calm them, but it was no use. They both continued to sob and shout, pointing at his hand. He quickly hid it behind the apron, hoping that no one else would notice. Just as he did the twins picked up a little courage and something hit his face with a sloppy slap, to be followed quickly after by a second one on his shirt. He looked down to see blobs of icecream splattered on him, one running down his face as it melted while the other soaked into his clothes.
“Nasty 'ol Hook, take that!”
They would have thrown more, but luckily a waitress appeared at that moment and the parents began to get the girls under control. Unthinkingly, Eugene moved his right arm to brush off his face, exposing the hook.
“You’d better go,” The waitress told him with a disapproving glance, “You’ll only scare them again.”
A snicker from behind Eugene followed the words, and he looked back to see his traveling companion of the baggage compartment sitting nearby, laughing at him.
Hastily concealing the hook once again, Eugene ran from the room, face glowing red as he realized that it had all taken place in front of Irene.
---
Eugene left the restaurant without even getting a bite to eat. Frustrated with himself and now more hungry than ever, he walked down the street brushing absently at the stain on his fancy jacket. Though he had not noticed it before, the town he was in was just across the Nevada border. He had crossed the state line without being caught. Now he hoped it would be a little harder for his immediate past to catch up with him, as word of the prison escape and subsequent restaurant riot might not have traveled this far. Though in a world of cell phones and internet-connected computers, it was a shallow hope.
Strolling down the sidewalk, he passed multiple restaurants and smelled dinner cooking within them. Chinese dinners, American dinners and dinners that would have been enjoyed almost anywhere in the world. All of them were food, meals that he did not have.
“There is always a way to get something to eat,” He muttered savagely, “There must be ways here.”
He looked up and around, searching for any sign of what direction he should try. There, sticking up above some buildings, was the lighted, turning disk of a ferriswheel. Listening intently, he heard the faint sound of simple music drifting through the air.
“Aha! A circus or a fair of some sort. Night’s falling; it shouldn’t be too hard to pick something up there,” He told himself, beginning to thread his way toward the universal signpost of the giant wheel. The evening was getting dusky and mysterious by the time he made it to the chain-link fence surrounding the fairgrounds. Putting a hand to the hard, diamond links, he peered through. A flat of empty lawngrass stretched in front of him toward the back of a few buildings, which were in shadow from the glaring lights on the other side. Beyond them stood the towers, tracks, twinkling lights and waving flags of the fair. Oddly tinny music played over the whole thing, the sounds of people moving about and laughing or shrieking mixing with it. The smell of hotdogs, popcorn and lemonade drifted out on a small breeze.
Determined to get in without paying the fare, Eugene made a running jump and caught on to the top of the fence, pulling himself toward the top. He had almost hauled himself all the way up when a voice spoke from behind him, “Get down! What are you doing climbing around on that fence like a monkey, young man?”
He looked down to see a tall, stout woman standing there, her mouth shut up in a tight line like a coin purse and her hair done up in a tense knot.
Before he could defend himself, the woman spoke again, “you want to get in the fair, don’t you? And your parents probably did not give you the money for the fare. Well, that’s very naughty of you. But I always loved the fair myself, so I’ll take you in with me. As long as you behave yourself.”
Realizing that the woman thought he was just a little boy trying to have some fun, Eugene leaped back down on the outside of the fence, “Really, you’ll take me in? Thank you, ma’am.”
Giving her a boy’s smile, he followed along as she marched off for the entrance gate. She reminded him unpleasantly of an aunt who had once come to visit his family estate, and tyrannized the whole place for a week.
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“My name is not ma’am, It’s Agatha Price,” She informed him, “You may just call me Agatha. Hold out your hand so that the man can stamp it and let’s go in.”
Eugene held out his left hand, which was duly stamped and set free again. Then he was marched inside, where the fair opened out before him in all of its bewildering avenues. Agatha started down one, putting a hand on his shoulder to steer him in that direction too. They had got about half-way down the path between two amusements when Eugene’s stomach grumbled.
“Sorry,” He said, clutching his middle with an embarrassed look.
“You must be hungry,” She informed him with a firm nod of her head, “Boys of your age always are hungry. Come over here.”
He was taken to a canteen where she bought him a hotdog and slushy, which he accepted gratefully and had soon wolfed down. He wondered all the while how old she imagined he was, and what she would think if he told her that he was an ex-convict.
Before he could slip away she led him to a merry-go-round and made him ride. He chose one of the sleighs to ride in, as he had never liked horses, even plastic ones with glittery bridles. Agatha seemed a little disappointed at this, so when she marched him to the ring-toss game next he made sure to win a prize and give it to her as an appeasement gift. She was so pleased with this gesture that she relaxed her guard a little, and he was soon able to slip away into the shadows.
“Now as long as she doesn’t get the whole fair security force out looking for her lost little boy, I’ll be okay,” He told himself, making his way toward a fake rocket ship set up on pistons. There he snagged the tickets of a teenager who was standing in line and went inside when the other person had to go get more, hoping Agatha Price would not think of searching for him in there.
The inside of the ship was dimly lit, with bench seats for the passengers to sit on facing forward. Each bench had a screen in front of it, which displayed an image of outer space. Sitting down, Eugene felt the ship begin to rock and tilt, while the screen played a movie purporting to be of a trip to mars. Beside him a little girl got sick and had to be taken outside, leaving behind a sack half-full of buttered popcorn. Eugene reclaimed it, making sure that it did not go to waste. With a snack and the darkness to hide him he was quite content, watching the grainy images of stars and planets go by in a swirl of purple and black.
When the ride was over he jumped out and threw the empty popcorn bag in a trash can, intending to start making his way toward the outer fence. One hotdog and a bag of corn was not much for a hungry young man to live on, but it was better than what he had possessed before. And Agatha still might be lurking around the fair, looking for him.
But before he could move off he caught sight of a tall shape moving among the crowd, wearing a red dress. Instantly his thoughts flew to Irene and he took off after the figure, hoping to make up for the embarrassment of earlier that day with some sort of speech or deed. The tall figure swayed between a group of school children and a large family, disappearing into a fortune teller’s hut. Eugene came up to the door before thinking better of it and moving off to stand beside a game stall. It would only hurt things more to burst in now, while she was having a fortune read. But there was only one exit to the place, so she had to come out that way sooner or later.
Eugene’s mind was busy with trying to decide if she would like a stuffed bear or a doll when he suddenly felt a strong hand clamp on his shoulder.
“There you are, young man! Where have you been all this time? I was worried sick!” It was Agatha Price. And she did not appear sick at all; she looked just as calm and purposefully vengeful as ever.
“Oh, um,” Caught off guard, Eugene blustered, “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just, er, stopped to watch a magician and got lost.”
“I see!” Agatha wagged a finger in his face, “You are a very bad boy to go wandering off like that. What are you doing by this fortune teller’s lair? They are all charlatans, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Inwardly, Eugene was cursing his bad luck in all the foulest language he knew. Outwardly, his face was smooth and eager, “but, well, I thought I saw a friend go in there, so I was waiting for her to come out.”
He glanced toward the door of the fortune tellers place then, and his heart leaped as a figure began to emerge. But then his hopes plummeted; it was not Irene after all. It was another woman, tall and thin, but much older than who he had been looking for. And she was a platinum blonde.
“That your friend?” Agatha queried dryly.
“No, it must have been a mistake,” Eugene didn’t have to act for his face to fall.
“Well, come along then,” His new aunt hurried him off toward the roller coaster, chatting all the time, “I know boys like you always want to ride the biggest coasters. Generally, I don’t approve of it. But as today is supposed to be a treat, we’ll make a little exception. How’s that sound to you?”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Eugene had never liked the roller coasters. They made him sick and, frankly, he was always a little afraid of them breaking and the cars going shooting off the rails. Or that his seatbelt would break and he would fall out. He knew it was foolish for a guy who would jump on moving buses and ride them for miles to worry about a fair ride, but he could not help it. Roller coasters gave him the willies.
“Come, come, don’t be shy,” Agatha kept dragging him onward, “I don’t mind it today. In fact, I want a little treat myself. I’m going to come with you.”
“Great,” Eugene muttered his favorite sarcasm, allowing himself to be hauled over to the line leading up to the biggest roller coaster, the 'Ripper.’
“Oh, look’s like I can’t go on,” Eugene pointed out, slouching next to the sign with the mark stating ‘You must be this high to ride,’ next to the vague outline of a human.
“Nonsense, straighten up and you’ll be perfectly tall enough,” Agatha pulled him up by the shoulder with her iron pincers, making his head stick above the mark. With nothing else to complain of than sheer cowardice, the thief glumly fell in line before her. This was worse than when his aunt had made him ride a horse in a country race her when she was staying at his house. He had purposely made the horse buck him off part of the way through, then, and complained of a sprained ankle so that he could not go on. Here there was no chance to be bucked off and still survive.
The ticker-taker was payed off and the two mismatched companions climbed aboard a coaster car. It was brightly painted in shades of crimson and orange, which Eugene considered camouflage for the horrific smears which must coat it. Agatha set about making sure that her victim could not leave by latching him into place in the seat beside her, where he clung to the bar miserably and waited for the coaster to take off. He didn’t have to wait long. With a jerk the roller coaster was on its way, picking up speed along a straight track before shooting up a mountain of rail. At the top it paused, almost seemed to hesitate, and then flung them down the other side with the sickening drag of vertigo.
Eugene could not help screaming as they were precipitated off into a deep trough, spun around three times and spat onto the peak of another hill.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Agatha shouted to him, gripping the bar with a smile hovering undecidedly around the lips.
“Aghhhh!” Eugene returned as they shot off the next slope. Images of flying into the park and wrecking on the merry-go-round were playing through his head, mixed with other scenes of personal carnage.
By the time they got off he was hoarse, out of breath and sure that he would die unless he escaped his terrible keeper very shortly. Realistically green in the face, he staggered toward a public bathroom with a faint apology.
“I’ll be waiting outside!” Agatha Price called after him, which wasn’t very encouraging. But after making an effort to keep his dinner, and winning by a hair, Eugene simply left by a back window. He wasn’t going to play any more games tonight. Running between stalls, he made it to the back exit and left, hoping that he would never meet his aggressive benefactor again.
A little later that night he caught another bus going east, hiding once again in the baggage compartment. He was glad to find that it was all his own this time, and stretched out to enjoy a nap in the comfort of other people’s duffle bags. When that bus came to the end of its line he found another going further and got aboard it in the same manner, feeling as experienced as a hobo at catching free rides. When he got out in the bright, sun-shiny noon of the next day at a bus station he was as hungry as he had ever been, and felt tousled from sleeping among the baggage so much.
He had just unlatched the trap door and stepped out when he realized that the driver had already disembarked, and was staring at him with a key held frozen in his hand. The driver’s face displayed amazement, his eyes so big it made him look like a fish.
“What are you looking at?” Eugene snapped, feeling grumpy from sheer hunger, “I got stuck when putting my bags away, that’s all! Leaned way in to make sure that they were seated right and someone was fool enough to shut the door on me! Just got it unlatched this very moment.”
“You were in the baggage compartment?” The driver, who was rather young and wore a ragged beard, gasped gratingly, “No way! Man, what a ride.”
“Yes, and now I’ve missed my breakfast and I am starving,” Eugene glared at him, “Which is all your fault as you’re the one in charge around here.”
“Hey, I had no idea that you were in there, really dude! It’s a new one on me.” The driver shook his head with this ineffectual statement, before realizing that Eugene was still staring at him haughtily, “Wow, you’re not going to report me or anything, are you?”
Eugene frowned thoughtfully, “Right now I’m so hungry I just might. If I had been able to eat breakfast now...I might be more lenient.”
“Here,” Finally catching the drift, the driver pressed some money into his hand, “Go get yourself some lunch, man. I am so sorry. It’s never happened before, and it shouldn’t ever happen again. I’ll really make sure to check that compartment next time.”
Happy to get away from his annoying way of speaking, Eugene took the money and went to find himself something to eat. With the leftover cash he bought some traveling provisions, and was once again on his way toward the address marked on his envelope. Three buses later he arrived in the correct city, a bustling, urban center in the low hills of Montana. Now all he had to do was find the right street and getting to the address would be easy. Finding out why his agent had split on him and where the money was might be a little harder, but Eugene trusted his own talents in that respect. There wasn’t much in the world he couldn’t find out if he wanted to. All it took was a little time and patience.
---
In the comfortable apartments of a Montana building, Professor Daye sat playing with a stack of cards. He didn’t build with them as most people did, instead he lay them flat on the table and stacked them up, so that the resulting castle was not much more than an inch in height. When he wanted to make one fancier her would fold a playing card stiffly in half, creasing it sharply and setting it up on top of the stack. Not with the peak facing upwards, but with one leg pointing up, like the letter 'L.’
Suddenly he heard someone buzzing the electric bell at his door.
“Come in, come in, we’re ready for din!” The professor called out in a sing-song voice, stopping afterwards to concentrate all the harder on his cards. The door opened and closed. Someone came quietly into the room.
“Professor Daye?” A soft voice spoke, edged in glistening steel.
“Yad!” The man at the table looked up, biting his lip and making his cheeks puff out in anger, “I’m Yad now! No more Daye, Daye’s gone away. I hated him anyway. He had stinky socks. Mine smell just like mangoes.”
There was a laugh, then the voice continued, “Yad. The anchovies are getting hot. You should hide in your bed.”
“You know I hate bed,” Yad told the figure, while trying to stack the cards on top of his head in the same manner, “He never complains about me like old friends should. I wish he was a pickle.”
“Very well, but I have warned you,” The mysterious figure left, going out with the same soft swish of cloth as it had entered with. For a few minutes the professor continued his pointless exercises, before hearing a ambulance siren go by outside. Suddenly he dropped the cards, letting them spill all across the floor.
“Oh my gosh, my mommy’s calling. I’m coming mommy, let me brush my teeth and write a letter to the table!”
With hurrying footsteps he ran to the kitchen, snatched up a pen, dashed back and scrawled some words on one of the playing cards which had fallen on the table. Then he ate an orange, skin and all, before packing a suitcase and flying out of the back door wearing only a bathrobe and slippers.
---
After few inquiries Eugene found the street he had been looking for. It was on the edge of the thickets part of town, where the buildings got a little less tall but were still just as well-fashioned. Painted yellow, the apartment building boasted that it had more space per room and more ‘sweet’ per suite than any other apartment building in town.
“It looks like my agent’s been living good on what he has,” Eugene commented to himself, moving quietly up toward it, “I hope he hasn’t spent it all yet.”
Making sure that no one was nearby, he moved around the side of the building, peering in a few of the ground-floor windows. He had never seen his agent in person, so did not know exactly what he was looking for. But perhaps he would know when he saw it.
After making a circuit of the whole building, he still had not seen any people who looked how he imagined his agent would appear, nor seen any sign of, well, the item he had hired the agent to steal. Of course, that would probably be locked up,so there was no reason to go looking for it out in the open. Finally, he gave up and walked inside like an honest person.
“Excuse me,” He said to the receptionist, “I’m looking for suite 2. A friend is staying there and I have a surprise for him.”
“Right over there, sir,” The girl pointed with her pencil down a hallway, “But I don’t know if Professor Daye is in right now.”
“Thanks,” Eugene walked down the hall toward the door, rolling the name around his mind. Professor Daye. Could it be the same person he had hired as Fflewder Flan, and Leaflow had called Yad? It was a possibility. In fact, after thinking it over, he realized that ‘Yad’ was simply Daye backwards, with the last letter removed. A simple cover-name for a man on a dangerous mission.
Coming up to the door, Eugene tried it. To his surprise it was unlocked, so he just opened it and went softly in. The room was painted the same gentle yellow color as the outside of the building, with a few tasteful pictures hanging from the wall and some not-unpleasant furniture arranged on the floor. After a preliminary glance Eugene saw that the first room was empty, and also noticed the playing cards spilled across the table.
Moving with care so as not to make a noise, Eugene went over toward them. Most were on the floor, a few had hit the table top, and two were bent in half so that they were useless for playing with any more. But it was one of the ones on the table which caught his eye the most. It had writing on it, done in a squiggling, often gap-filled hand.
“Someone said I must go to bed. The anchovies are hot, that’s all I’ve got. I took the money, and the thing, though I would prefer a telephone ring. New York city, isn’t it pretty, Phoenix Arizona is on my list.
P.S. Please don’t read this. That means you, Eugene. This is for my table.”
“Oh, no!”Eugene picked up the playing card, staring at it in disgust before crumpling it and cramming it in his pocket with the old envelope, “Another crazy letter telling me that it’s too late, he’s gone! Well, he couldn’t have gone far. Maybe I can find him before he leaves the state. But first, just in case...”
Eugene searched all of the rooms, going over each with a quick and steady hand. He did not find the professor hiding out anywhere in any of them, nor any of the items he was hoping might have been left behind. Once again he was left with almost no clue as to where the agent could have gone to. His not mentioned both Arizona and New York, but those were in opposite directions and both fairly far away. Eugene was left not knowing which direction he should look in, or where he should go. He did not even know if the professor would drive or fly out of the state.
Using the apartment’s telephone, he made a call to the city airport and asked them to notify him, on some pretext, if a Professor Daye came through that day. But with all of the run-away agent’s code names, and no description to give, it was almost hopeless. Eugene sat down in a chair with his head in his hand and tried to think, almost wishing that his old prison buddies were still with him to come up with a plan.