Nobody

Nobody

" Abigail Ellis!" The younger of the two female guards blurted out. Abigail clutched the small open cardboard box up against her abdomen. Stepping up to the giant-sized steel gates, she waited. Darvey Choles, the older guard, searched her box and motioned to open the gates.

The deafening, high screeching sound kept time with the slow-moving pace of the metal gate beginning to open. Abigail slipped through to the outside and stopped. She was free. Free to what? she thought. It was cold and snowing, no one to meet her, and the parking lot was empty except for the mud-splattered transit bus. It reminded her of her grandpappy Morgan, before they found him dead. Abby jumped when the gate slammed shut. The echo that rippled away lasted for about fifteen to twenty seconds, reminding her that there was no changing her mind—legally.

"Who is she? Do you think she'll be a backslider?" asked Marcy.
Darvey laughed. "You got a lot to learn yet, girl; you're just a watchman. In time, you'll learn to spot em', but to answer your question—nah! She's a nobody."

The bus door hissed as it opened. Abby gasped, turned her head as far as she could, and shot her nose up high. The dark, warm bus shot a gust of putrid air out its opening door. It was laden with sweat, feces, and stale food orders. She took a deep breath, boarded, and dashed toward the last empty seat by a window.

She was grateful when she saw the Apple Valley Right Lane sign. She was hungry, and stretching her legs would feel good; she was sure of that. The prison didn't give her much money, but it was enough for a few meals. She was to rely on the waitress job they had set up in Bear Valley. Abby smiled; she had heard it was a nice place, and a lovely elderly couple ran the halfway house.

A bitter, ice-cold wind began to blow, bringing with it participation in the form of snow again. Abby pulled her prison-issued jacket tight against her body. She hurried towards the diner that was twenty feet in front of her. Stopping at it's entrance, she looked up. Hawkin's Roadhouse. How quaint, she thought, and pushed the door open.
Abby sat at a small table facing the only window in the diner. A window that was in no need of curtains due to the amount of advertisements taped and painted on its glass. The waitress dropped a menu in front of her as she bobbed up and down to Loretta Lynn, wailing about being a Coal Miner's Daughter.

"I'll have the day's soup, please," she smiled. Chomping her gum to the beat of the music, she replied. "Sure thing, hon." She disappeared only to reappear five minutes later with the soup. Taking a sip, Abby saw him—a small boy with a tear-stained, dirty face clutching a purple backpack peering through the window. He was dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and no jacket.

"Oh My God!" she blurted, "He's got to be freezing and hungry!" While wiping the counter, Old Man Hawkins shook his head as he watched her. Another parolee, he thought as Abby jumped up, grabbed her jacket, and ran outside.

"Hey...little one, aren't you cold?" she asked softly, luringly, placing her jacket around his shoulders and wiping the snow from his face. Not answering, the boy continued to stare through the diner window. Abby placed her hand on his shoulder and gently turned him toward her. Unable to control herself, she gasped. He felt so cold. He had no color in his cheeks, and his eyes held no life.

"Come on," she coaxed. Let's go inside and get some hot, hot soup. That'll fix you up in no time." Together, they started into the Roadhouse. Abby motioned to the waitress and called for another bowl.

"There," she said, smiling, and looked down. "Say, what's your name?" The young boy clutched his purple backpack and, with no emotion, replied, "I'm nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody, too?" Abby dropped the bowl of soup. Fussing to clean up the mess, she looked up again. He was gone. She stood and looked the diner over; there was no sign of him. She sat down, unable to eat.

Old Man Hawkins came over to her table and sat down. "Don't mind me," he mused. "You saw him, didn't ya?"

"Him?"

"Yeah—him, the kid with the purple backpack?" Abby did not know what to say, so she said nothing. She didn't want to end up in a psych ward.

"Yeah...him! Little Tommy Lee. He and his family were murdered right outside about twenty-five years ago. He's been wonderin' the desert ever since."

Abby bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "Yea...right!" she finally responded. Deciding she was hungry, she finished her soup. The bus was boarding to leave for Bear Valley. Abby gathered her things and ran towards the bus. She had placed one foot on its doorstep and heard a faint whisper of a familiar voice. She turned and saw the small boy clutching a purple backpack. Staring up at another parolee, he said; I'm nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody, too?