Sparky was face to face with Fat Jack. His lips were busy working some straw he had picked up.
“What’s up, Jack?”
Fat Jack scrambled back along the floor on his hands and knees. Animals were hopping on top of him, nipping at the loose ends of his shirt. Their chatter grew. Moans and hums bellowed out at random.
“Where are you?” Jack swung out, the goats receded.
“Show yourself,” Fat Jack stood. He puffed his chest and straightened his posture. His eyes strayed to the dark entry room. His pistol hidden away, as good as lost, in the darkness.
“Don’t come back here again.”
“You can’t scare me! No one messes with Fat Jack!”
Sparky hovered right behind him. Still on all fours he knocked into the man’s leg. Fat Jack let out a panicked scream. He spun about and looked down meeting the goat eye to eye; Sparky thought for a moment the man would recognize him.
“Maah.”
Fat Jack scurried through the door. In the distance Sparky heard the truck start up and tear out of the dusty lot.
Sparky returned to his belongings. A small group of goats had made short work of his shirt and were working down his coat. Sparky shooed them. The jacket was in tatters, but the contents of the pockets had been spared, leaving him the money and pictures. He looked over the three downed thugs. After a quick size up, he waltzed over to Louis who looked to be the smallest.
Sparky slipped on the man’s shirt, which was loose, and his pants, which were very loose. After a few attempts at getting them to stay up, despite his lack of waistline, the goat was able to secure them with help of some loose rope. In the pocket he found the man’s wallet. There was no cash inside, just a few pictures, numbered cards and other human documents.
The goat lifted his fallen hat from the ground and covered his head, taking note the bullet hole. He set it back on the floor. He took the lead of the herd and marched them out of the warehouse. Two by two they emerged into the moonlight. They scattered over the front lot foraging the grasses and weeds.
Sparky walked through them, wearing a smile. It wasn’t the same as being home, but he was far less alone. His family was waiting for him to rescue them now, and he had to hurry on.
“Take it in guys.”
The dim moon combined with the blue warehouse light to give the grounds a silver glow. As Sparky looked over the flat expanse his eyes were drawn up the roadway. A beautiful spectacle of red, blue and white lights approached. It was time to leave.
Chapter 30
Sparky peeked out from a roadside bush. A small car puttered in the driveway of the house across the road. The engine ceased. A young woman emerged and strolled up the house. Sparky chewed patiently on leaves. The woman turned the handle and slipped inside.
The clothed goat climbed out of the bush onto the road walking on his hind legs. He had a general sense of the highway’s direction but he wasn’t sure how far it would be. He passed another house. Through the front window he saw a family sitting on the couch, two children bundled with their parents. On the floor a dog lay at their feet. All of them were staring at the television.
The next house had the lights on, too. A man was sitting by the window making music on a piano. Sparky paused to listen. It was gentle and light, he liked the sound, but could not spare the time.
The animal walked on. Sparky pulled his shirt tight as a gust of fall wind chilled him to the bone.
The street ended at a T intersection of a larger thoroughfare. Sparky pointed his path towards the direction of the highway lights now in view. He passed through an array of human businesses and shops. The storefronts were dim and empty in the late night hour. Chiropractor. Attorney. Tanning salon. Butcher.
The next sign pictured a brown leaf with a number sixteen in the center. Beneath the sign was an arrow pointing forward. Illuminated by the overhead streetlight, the sign was a refreshing omen. Sparky picked up his pace as the on ramp to the freeway came into view.
At the base of the on ramp set a small gas station with the lights on. Sparky froze. Two older men, each with a thick beard, sat on a bench in front of the station sharing a pipe. They had not yet seen Sparky, looking instead at the deserted pumps. There were no other attendants.
At the pump was a rugged looking pickup. The original paint had all fallen away leaving only rust and primer. The door sat open. From the roadside Sparky could see the keys to the truck hanging from the steering column. It was a tempting proposition. Fat Jack’s words were hauntingly clear in his memory about the ease of stealing cars.
Sparky looked at the two men. The truck would make it possible to close the distance to his family. He would have no one to answer to. Jack had made it clear that the police never did anything about it anyway. And even if they did, who would arrest him? He was a goat!
“Hey, Huestis?” Norbert said to his pipe-smoking friend.
“What is it, aye?” Huestis was half asleep.
“Looks like a goat got loose,” Norbert strained to see the animal as it emerged from the darkness. “Looks like somebody dressed this one up.”
“Who dresses up a goat, aye?”
“That’s a good question, Huestis, but he’s wearing pants.”
Norbert sucked in on the pipe. Blowing the smoke out it mixed into the brisk fall air. Norbert observed the goat as it walked toward the truck.
“Aye, what’s he doing, aye?” Huestis leaned into the scene, keeping his rear firmly against the bench. Sparky reached the cab of the truck.
“Didn’t leave that sandwich in there from lunch, did ya?”
“No way, aye. I tossed that out.”
Huestis wrapped his lips around the pipe but didn’t inhale. The goat climbed into the driver’s seat, something neither man had seen a goat do. Huestis in particular prided himself on being familiar with the curious nature of goats and didn’t think it beyond the clever creatures to explore. Sparky’s actions triggered a tiny chuckle from him.
“Maybe he’s gonna steal your car, aye?”
Huestis spit a laugh. It was the funniest notion he had heard that night. It was even more of a riot than when they had discussed dressing up like little girls and selling cookies. “You’re a funny guy, Norbie.”
“Aye, looks like he’s grabbing the keys, aye.”
“Well, gee, aye, how can he do that Norbie? He’s a goat. They don’t have thumbs, aye.”
“Well, I’m no scien-tolo-gister, but I’d say that goat’s got your keys.”
“Norbert, in all the years we’ve been friends, how many goats have we known?”
“A bundle, aye.”
“Yup, a bundle, and how many of them drove cars?”
“Aye, um, zero?”
“So, aye, why are you saying this one’s going to take my car, aye?”
“Well,” Norbert continued to study the oddity. The goat was now positioned squarely behind the steering wheel. Sparky adjusted the seat and the wheel to better suit his shape. “We’ve never seen a goat do that either.”
“Do what? What is he doing now, flying in circles?”
“No, he just moved the seat.”
“Do you know what, aye? Goats can’t drive-”
“But-”
“Now hang on, aye. Goat’s don’t adjust seats, or steering wheels, and they sure as hell don’t hold keys.”
“But-”
“Drop it, aye?”
Norbert sat quietly. His friend’s reluctance to accept the obvious influenced him very little. Norbert was actually having a fine time watching the spectacle. The goat strapped his body in with the seat belt. Norbert turned to Huestis.
“Can you see that, aye?”
“God almighty, Norbie! God almighty! Goats do not wear seat belts, aye!” Huestis watched without concern drawing in on his pipe. The goat sealed the door. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought the creature had flashed him a smile. “I know what you’re going to say, just bite your tongue Norbie! Goat’s
don’t know how to close doors, and they don’t smile, aye!”
“I know Huestis.”
Sparky had ridden with Lord Neptune and Fat Jack. He was confident that he could drive. He studied the wheel, gripping it firmly. His hooves reached the pedals with ease; he tested them one at a time. “One to go, one to stop, simple,” he reassured himself. He turned the key.
“Sounds like the goat started your truck, aye.”
“I know what it sounds like, but god-tarnit, goats can’t start trucks!”
Sparky was halfway there. He looked at the lever off of the steering column and tried to pull it down, nothing. He restudied the console. Just above the wheel he found the key to his dilemma. A small sticker was posted. Apply brake to shift from park. Simple enough.
“I think he’s leaving, aye.”
“Now for the love of all God’s creatures if you aren’t the stupidest of fools! Goats don’t drive!” Huestis hurled the pipe on the ground. Burning embers scattered over the cement before fizzling out.
Sparky adjusted the lever into drive and eased off the brake. The vehicle idled forward. He rotated the wheel and tested the motions. It was surprisingly easy to handle. He depressed the gas and the truck burst forward. He slammed the brake. The truck screeched and halted short of a pump.
“Not a very good driver, aye?” Norbert prodded his companion in the leg with his finger.
“I don’t know what you’re even talking about anymore. If you aren’t careful they'll lock you up, aye.”
Sparky backed the truck away using small motions on the pedals. He cleared more room in front. He sighed with relief. The truck jarred to a halt. He had backed into the heavy steel support for the roof. He returned the car to drive and floored the gas.
“Hope you got insurance still Huestis. Looks like you need that acts of goat clause in it.”
“You are a bloody fool, Norbie, when are you going to accept that goats don’t drive any more than they talk?”
Sparky fumbled the window’s control lever, rotating it around. He looked over to the two men, guilt ridden that he had to steal, but he knew no other way.
“Sorry about this, it’s an emergency.”
Norbert looked at Huestis. Huestis was taking his time relighting the pipe. He took two big puffs. The truck sped off. It took a sharp corner around the on ramp and then off down the highway. The roar of the engine soon faded and the still of night set in around the two men.
Norbert chewed on his cheek for a moment. “He took your truck, aye.”
Huestis leaned toward the highway. The truck was long out of sight. He handed the pipe to Norbert without a look.
“You, Norbert, are a damn fool, aye.”
Chapter 31
The highway poured out of the darkness ahead. There were no other cars, no other lights. It was a relief in some ways to be far away from people again. But it made the world ahead that much more daunting with no idea what lay ahead.
What sleep Sparky had managed earlier that day was overshadowed by his long evening. His brawl with the criminals had taken its toll. His weary thoughts rolled to his family, to Princess. Would they be in a hellish warehouse like the one he had just left? Were they being taken somewhere worse? Loneliness gripped him. He could hear their voices faintly calling to him. His teeth clinched against his upper lip. His head dropped down.
Then he did something he had never done before. Sparky hummed.
The voices he heard were not his memories, they were coming from the truck. It was with much pleasure he turned his eyes to the radio. The sounds of music had been filling the cab for some time; it had been so soft that he had not realized it. He raised the volume, flooding the chamber with melody. Sparky didn’t know what it was called or who was singing but he was comforted at once.
The radio blared as the road stretched on.
Time and miles passed. His eyelids got heavier. His thoughts strayed back to his loneliness. A tear formed on the corner of his eye. I miss you so much. “Hold on, I’m coming.”
Almost as soon as he had mouthed the words a small four-legged shadow came into view. It was trotting parallel the roadway right alongside the truck. Sparky slammed the brakes as he passed. Sparky looked back through the rear window; the creature was stopped.
Sparky stepped down from the truck cab. In the red light from the truck, he made out a canine silhouette. It had been miles since he left the city, and there were no other signs of life. How the animal had wondered this far was a mystery, but the dog was definitely alone.
“Dog! Dog!” Sparky yelled.
The dog didn’t move. Sparky walked closer. The canine seemed to be calm in nature. Sparky extended a hoof and stroked through the dog’s fur. Its tongue unrolled and started wagging. Drool dripped off to the asphalt.
“Need a ride, puppy?” The dog rose from its haunches and galloped to the truck. With one bounce he was in the cab. Sparky returned to the truck to see the dog gnawing and snarling at the seat. The dog circled the seat three times and plopped down.
They started off. It was a different feeling again having a companion. It was much nicer than when he had been riding with people. People talked incessantly.
Sparky leaned into the window. The night and his tiredness combined once again, encouraging him to sleep. His family could wait for nothing. The heavy beats of rock music carried on as he drove along, maintaining what little will he had.
The music abruptly changed from the upbeat tunes that Sparky had been enjoying to something that didn’t have words at all. It was soft and gentle and seemed to give him even more reason to sleep.
Sparky pressed the buttons on the radio, at last finding his loud music. He settled back into the ride, sliding his tail back and forth with the beat against the seat.
It wasn’t even another minute before the station changed again. This time Sparky was sure he saw the dog reach over press the button.
“Knock it off. I need the music to stay awake,” Sparky stroked the mongrel’s head. The dog eyed Sparky before his tongue again fell from his mouth.
Sparky reset his music. He kept watch on the furry beast from the corner of his eye. Sure enough, the mutt reached out again for the stereo. The goat seized his paw.
“Ah hah!”
“Ow, Jesus that hurts,” Frank didn’t like the thought of being touched by a farm critter, let alone abused by one.
Sparky went silent. He immediately rejected that the dog had spoken to him. His grip went loose. The dog shook out his paw.
“What did you just say?”
“I said your taste in music sucks.” Frank lifted his head and turned toward the window, refusing to look at Sparky.
“You can talk?”
“Is that really a question to you at this point? Obviously, you’re not the smartest sheep in the world.”
“I’m a goat.”
“I’m a goat! I’m a goat! You got a name goat?”
“Yeah.”
“Well?”
“Sparky.”
“Frank, nice to meet you,” the dog extended his paw.
A dog that talks. Sparky studied the creature for other changes. Nothing caught his eye. Sparky looked down at Frank’s outstretched paw and then back to the road.
“What happened to you?” Frank withdrew his handshake.
“What do you mean?”
“Well unless your mama’s an ewe and your daddy’s a farmer, most sheep don’t talk.”
“Goat.”
“Whatever. So what was it? Mad scientist, did he suck your brain out and replace it with a computer?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, did you get abducted by aliens? Did they use their crazy technology to advance your evolution by a million years?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well? What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nothing? Come on anything is better than nothing. Jazz that story up, add some flare. How about Martians abduc
ted a mad scientist who formulated a giant vat of goop to transform you into a super-sheep!”
“But, I don’t know what happened.”
“Well fine. Have it your way.” Frank turned back to the window with a blank stare. His breathing was heavy.
“What happened to you?”
Frank turned with wide eyes to Sparky, “Microwaves!”
“Huh?”
“Cancer, young boy, lots of treatments, mutations, yada, yada,” the dog meshed his statements together, in between there may have been more information, but Sparky’s ears were not fast enough to catch it.
“How did you end up on the highway?”
“I had to dodge the draft. Never can be too safe.”
“The draft?” Sparky yawned.
“It’s this thing in the states. They suck your life out in the army. Happens to everyone eventually, figured it best to be one of the first ones to Canada, just in case they ran out of room. Where are you headed? I haven’t seen any other barn critters driving this stretch.”
“I’m looking for my family, they were kidnapped.”
“Conspiracy!”
Chapter 32
The sun rose at last.
“You might need to stop for gas,” Frank said.
“Excuse me?”
“Stop at a gas station and get some gas, for the truck, you know,” Frank leaned in toward the fuel gauge extending one nail from his paw.
“Oh, of course,” Sparky recollected where he had requisitioned the vehicle: the gas station in Plunkett. Sparky reviewed his shirt and oversized pants. No hat, no coat. “I can’t go anywhere like this.”
“You said you were able to pass as a man, how’ve you’ve been doing it so far?”
“It’s been dark and I had more cover. This isn’t enough,” Sparky felt the dry edge of his upper lip scraping across his teeth.
“Take the next exit. Pull off somewhere quiet. Better to hide the truck than run out of gas.” Frank’s paw rubbed back and forth under his chin. “You said you had money?”
“Yeah.”
“I bet I can rustle up something for you to wear.”
Sparky steered the truck off the highway at the Shoal Lake exit. The truck coasted down the off-ramp. Frank informed Sparky of the proper handling of the red traffic light, and the goat pulled to a gentle but firm stop. Sparky urged it to change as he waited to turn right. Sitting exposed in the daylight.