Chapter Three: Small Town

As far as he could tell, it was all trash. As Chris panned across the mess before him he quickly began thinking about why he was there in the first place. He needed the money, but there had to be a better way.

“You done yet, Chris?” His boss barked at him, not realizing that Chris had just snuck in through the back gate.

“Getting close, but I think I'll stay late tonight just to make sure it gets done,” Chris said, hoping to hide his delinquency. In fact, his boss didn't care. He planned on paying Chris the same amount of money regardless.

At first sight it looked like miles of scrap metal. Some of the cars were mangled beyond recognition, obviously the result of some unimaginable tragedy. One of the cars had several bullet holes in the hood, the windows laying in thousands of pieces on the ground beneath. Others had almost completely disintegrated into a mere pile of rust. Chris spent twenty minutes in a daze - just staring - before his mind finally wandered back to where he was standing. Somehow he had to determine was what junk-junk and what was useful-junk. No doubt every car there had a life-changing story that brought it to where it now rested, but to Chris it all looked like trash and he had no desire to make judgment calls on the value of trash.

The town was small, so there weren't a lot of job choices. Most of the kids in town worked on farms for the seasonal work, but Chris never could bring himself to get up early enough for that kind of work. Besides, working for Jumbo Jim (a name the town kids had given him) gave Chris ample time alone – something he rarely got living with 4 sisters and 4 brothers. Unfortunately, being alone so often caused Chris to drift into a mental lull, as he now found himself doing again only 30 minutes after arriving at work. He decided it would be best to keep busy to avoid any more daydreams.

A car toppled over as Chris pulled on what appeared to be a lose piece of scrap. He jumped back a few feet instinctively, even though he was standing far from where the car slowly rocked to a halt. His heart had begun pounding a little faster and his mind raced as he tried to determine how a little piece of metal had held up an entire car. Chris didn't have time to process the thought in his head before his heart suddenly came to a stop. Partially buried under scrap and part buried by dirt was a motorcycle that appeared almost new. Scurrying around the bike, Chris struggled to find why this bike was there, and how long it had been there. The tires were low and it had a considerable amount of dirt on it, but there was no damage and no parts were missing.

Once again, the job at hand fluttered out of his mind and dreams of racing down the highway filled his head. It wasn't the thought of riding the motorcycle that excited him – it was the freedom that the bike offered him. It was an escape from his desolate town and from the monotony of his life. After all, that was the whole reason he was working here in the first place – to find a way out. Where would he go? Did it matter? Wherever it was, it had to better than where he was now. By the time he regained his focus it was dark and Chris found himself standing in the dim light of a waning moon.