“That’s heavy.”
“I’m told at the time of death it feels quite light.”
“Looks to me like you’re a part-time student.”
?
?I suppose that’s true. I have responsibilities now. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. The Siddhar likens my plight to the story of Kaubathar. Once upon a time, Pathanjali took the form of Adisesha and stayed in the Thillai forests for a long time. He wanted to teach the vyagarana suthiram to his disciples. However, Pathanjali was afraid that, since he was in the form of Adisesha, his disciples would be burnt to death when they came near him. So he made a partition between himself and his disciples. But the students were anxious to see the master’s face. One student pulled the partition down. All the students were immediately burned to a crisp.”
“Remind me not to have you tell my kids bedtime stories.”
“One of the students, Kaubathar, did not attend the lecture on that day. Pathanjali was happy that one of his disciples was alive, so he changed his form to one less fatal and taught all his skills to Kaubathar.”
“Is that the end? Is there a moral to that story?”
“Sometimes being away from your teacher is the best lesson. In a manner of speaking. I am here in body. There in spirit.”
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“A lot. And, by the way, I have no idea who Pathanjali or Adisesha are. I imagine Adisesha is something horrible, and Pathanjali doesn’t sound like a treat either.”
“I can drive, you know,” Emerson said. “It’s just that it’s been a while and my license has lapsed. I imagine driving a car is like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never really forget. Of course, I never learned how to ride a bicycle, so I couldn’t say if that’s true.”
“Maybe I’ll keep driving.”
Riley got off the highway at Jackson, Tennessee, and found a Walmart.
“We need necessities,” she said. “Clothes and food.”
“I asked Vernon to stock food for us,” Emerson said.
“I looked through the cabinets and fridge. They’re filled with beer and chips and beef jerky. Get some money out of the duffel bag. We’re going shopping.”
An hour later they had new sweatshirts and jeans, all of the basic food groups plus M&M’s, and the RV tank full of diesel fuel.
“We can park here for the night,” Riley said. “No one would think of looking for Emerson Knight in a Walmart parking lot.”
—
Riley slept in a T-shirt and sweatpants in the cab-over bunk and Emerson took the queen bed in the back. Emerson slept like the dead, and Riley woke with every sound. A little before seven she stuffed her feet into her sneakers, zipped up her new sweatshirt, and shuffled off to Walmart. She returned minutes later with coffee and doughnuts.
“You made the morning news,” she said to Emerson. “Me too. It’s awful. They had the snack bar television tuned to a Washington station, and the news came on while I was waiting for fresh coffee. The conjecture is that you and an accomplice broke into my apartment and kidnapped me. They described you as an eccentric billionaire gone berserk. Anyone seeing either of us should contact the authorities immediately.”
“Did they show pictures of us?”
“Yes. You were in a tux and you had a ponytail. I almost didn’t recognize you. My picture looked like a mug shot. I think it was taken on my first day at Blane-Grunwald for my employment file.”
“Did anyone recognize you?”
“Not that was apparent, but we should get on the road. A lot of people saw us yesterday while we were shopping and getting fuel. I’m sorry I made us go shopping. It was a bad idea.”
“Not at all. We had to stop for fuel anyway. At least they don’t know where we’re going. Not yet, anyway.”
Eight hours later Riley pulled into a KOA campground on South Choctaw Road near Oklahoma City.
“I can’t keep driving,” Riley said. “I can’t sit anymore, and I’m having a hard time staying awake.”