When I returned to the bus to board once again, I saw the driver standing at the front of the bus with his foot propped on the bumper. He had clenched between his teeth a rather ornate pipe that emitted tiny plumes of smoke from its bowl with each puff. The air surrounding the driver had now taken on the sweet smell of cherry, which reminded me of one of my great uncles when I was but a child. When I got to the steps of the bus, I flashed my pass and the driver nodded and winked me aboard. I walked back down the aisle in the direction of my seat sidestepping someone's luggage and kicking an empty soda can to the side.

 I reached my seat and settled in for the ride. I had brought along "War and Peace" to read as I thought that there would never be a better time to read this enormous book than now. However, I now had another book, a little red book with strange looking writing on the cover. I reached into my pocket and retrieved the book. Placing it on my lap, and pulled a smoke from my pocket and lit it. I sat there smoking my cigarette and watching the exhaled smoke fan out over the seat in front of me as questions ran through my mind about the old woman, about the book and most disturbingly, why no one else seemed to notice her but me.

 I had just finished my smoke when the doors of the bus hissed to and the big Silver Eagle Express began to roll. I could hear the water in the self containment-tank slosh about as we made our way up over the shoulder and back onto the highway, and the smell of disinfect filled the back area of the bus briefly. I reached up, flicked on the small reading lamp, and turned my attention to the small red book. On the inside of the cover, there was a crude drawing of a feather and an eagle. Below the sketch were the numbers 1482 and a line drawing of something that I could not make out since it had faded out with time.

I turned over the yellowing, brittle first page and saw that the text appeared to be written in Spanish. Great I thought to myself, I knew that I should have taken that second year of Spanish when I was in school. Therefore, I turned off the reading lamp and closed the book. Placing it on the seat beside me, I reached for another cigarette and turned my attention to the Texas landscape passing by my window. It was still dark out, but the sky was getting light in the East and making shadowy images out of the rocks and trees.  I finished my smoke and closed my eyes as the drone of the wheels on the road lulled me back into slumber and all was well in my world I thought; at least it was until the dream.

© J. Allen Wilson 2005