Axel
I wasn’t the only one who dodged the draft, but I still saw my face on the news and on the digital billboards. They cycled through pictures of all the dodgers, offering a reward to anyone who turned them in. They were ruthless, trying to get other people to do their dirty work. I kept my face hidden, wore a hat and sunglasses everywhere I could.
I stuck to small towns where the gas stations still existed anyway. I looked for work, or any way to make money, but I soon learned that people would rather turn me in instead of hiring a draft-dodger. I had already given everything I could spare to Jackie when I left. The only money I kept was for gas and food, but even that was running low.
Just like my money, I knew my luck was going to run out eventually. They had an entire broadcast channel running the names and faces of all the people who didn’t report for the draft. My fortune turned for the worst at a gas station in some no-name town just west of nowhere. I had to pay with cash; it was too easy to track cards. That meant going inside and paying, something I always dreaded doing.
I made the walk to the main building and pulled open the glass door. A bell clanged against the glass as I was hit with the stale and cold breeze that seemed to exist in every gas station. The teller sat behind a counter, his face buried in a magazine as I casually browsed the candy bar aisle.
I checked for exits like usual, just in case I needed to run. I walked back to the ATM and looked at the bulletin board. The owner had flyers up with lists of the dodger’s names. That wasn’t a good sign. I could always bail and head to another station, but I didn’t think my bike would make it. I walked back up to the counter and saw the magazine lower. A tattoo revealed itself from beneath his sleeve as he set the magazine down.
It was an emblem, military if I had to guess. No wonder he had a list of draft-dodgers, he was veteran. This was all way too risky, but I wasn’t about to run out of gas on some stretch of road in the middle of a blistering desert.
“Twenty on pump two,” I said.
His wrinkled eyes glanced up at me and then back to his register.
“You look familiar kid,” he said.
“I’ve just got one of those faces,” I replied.
He pressed a few keys on the register and the drawer popped open.
“Take off the glasses and the hat,” he said.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
He picked up the crinkled bill from the counter and placed it in the register. His hand came back out with a revolver. It had a long silver barrel that gleamed as he turned its gaze on me.
“Did I stutter?” he asked.
I pulled off the glasses and the hat. I slowly lowered them onto the counter and let him stare at me with his piercing eyes.
“Why’d you do it?”
“I have a family,” I said.
He chuckled. “So you run and leave them behind?”
“Better than fighting a war we can’t win.”
He pulled back the hammer on the revolver.
“Watch your tongue. Now you just stay real still until they come to get you and we won’t have an issue.”
“Please, just let me go! I can pay you double the reward!”
“I’m not interested in money.”
“Then why? Why are you turning me in?”
He kept the gun perfectly trained on me, but I could see his hand shaking. If I timed it right, I could get that gun from him. He picked up his phone and placed it on his ear, holding it with his shoulder.
“Yeah, I’ve got a dodger here. Yeah, hold on one second.”
He held out the phone towards me.
“Say your name.”
I clenched my fists. “Axel Blackwell.”
“You got that? Good, he’ll be here.”
The teller put down the phone and steadied his grip on the pistol.
“I’m turning you in because you’re exactly like me.”
“We’re nothing alike,” I said.
He nodded. “No, not anymore we’re not.”
I waited for his hand to start shaking again, that’s when I would make my move.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I was like you once. I had a girl, a kid, a bike, and not a care in the world. War or no, you we’re always going to leave. You want to know why?”
I saw his hand starting to quake.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because you don’t care about them, not really. You don’t value them like you should. You’re not cut out for the office job, two kids, and a trophy wife life. Take a stroll with death, though, and you’ll find that they’re suddenly the most important things in the world.”
“I’m not going anywhere. When this is all over, I’m going back to them,” I said.
“Just keep telling yourself that.”
I had enough of this. I swung out with my right hand and gripped the revolver’s barrel. The gun slid out of the shaking man’s hands like it as covered in grease. His eyes went wide as I turned the gun around on him.
“Go ahead, shoot!” he said.
I slid the gun into the back of my pants and shook my head.
“You don’t know me.”
I turned and ran to the door. They would send a special unit to come get me. With that kind of tech I had two, maybe three minutes before they would descend in hover jets and swarm like locusts. I could have stayed, could have gone willingly, but that wasn’t my style. I climbed onto my motorcycle and started up the engine. It grumbled and sputtered, but it held in the end. I fired the gas and shot out onto the dusty road.
I was somewhere in the Midwest. Vast plains of dust and sand stretched out into every horizon. Towering mesas dotted the landscape like strange mountains. I wasn’t on the road for more than a minute before I heard the roaring crackle of jet engines. The agile vehicles tore past me and spun on a dime. Soldiers dressed in full body suits descended from within, rappelling down onto the road in front of me.
I pushed the bike harder as the engine released a roaring battle cry. I wasn’t going down without a fight. I pulled the gun out of my pants and fired blindly into the throng of soldiers. They dove out of the way and created a pathway for me to escape. I made it past their impromptu roadblock just as they opened fire. Bullets soared past me, hissing as they barely missed their target.
I weaved the bike across the road, making it as difficult as possible for them to hit their mark. Of course, these weren’t your standard beat cops fresh out of the academy. These were trained killers. They never miss.
They wanted me alive, but perhaps that plan changed when I opened fire on them. I felt a bullet strike true. White hot pain exploded through my back as my vision went red. I lost balance and tumbled off the bike. I hit the road with my shoulder and rolled into the momentum. My vision thrashed and tumbled until I my head hit the ground just right and everything went black.
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was the picture I took with me when I left. My mind went back to that night on the beach. The sun was setting behind us; Jackie’s scented sunscreen made her smell like coconut. I could feel her in my arms; I could feel the salty air rushing off the ocean. That moment was perfect, I never wanted to leave. Maybe now I won’t have to.