OL Original Story: The Sad and Shorth Earthbound Life of Tom Marshall [Part 2]

Hello dear friends.  Welcome back to part 2 of The Sad and Short Earthbound Life of Tom Marshall.  For those of you who missed last week’s post, feel free to catch up before continuing.  For those of you eagerly awaiting to see what happens to Tom next, hit the jump.

[Part 1: Bad Breaks and Good Breaks]

PART 2: Bumps in the Road

The next few weeks were the happiest of Tom’s life.  He was back to being invisible at school.  The bullies ignored him.  If someone did happen to notice him, it was out of feigned concern for his arm.  They didn’t care about him.  They just cared about appearing to care.

Tom spent all his free time at Dr. Bowman’s clinic.  Dr. Bowman specialized in sports medicine.  While Tom himself had never followed any sports, he could certainly see the appeal.

Mr. Hagan dropped by every so often.  He and Dr. Bowman were friends, but Tom suspected he himself was the reason for the visits.  Tom found out that Mr. Hagan was on track to be a pitcher in big leagues.  That was until he nearly tore his arm off.  Apparently Dr. Bowman was the one to repair the arm.  Unfortunately, Mr. Hagan never got his talent back to where it was.  Mr. Hagan said he wasn’t disappointed.  He seemed to genuinely enjoy his life.  Tom thought that must feel amazing.

The last week of school arrived.  Tom almost begged Dr. Bowman to leave the cast on.  Dr. Bowman insisted that Tom would be ok for one week with it off.  Tom was not so sure.  In the end, Dr. Bowman relented and Tom remained safe.

For once in his life, Tom was happy.  He should have known better.  Tom was awakened in the middle of the night by someone barging into his room.

“Pack up, we’re moving.”  Tom’s father said.

“Where?”  Tom asked.

“Where?  Where!?  It doesn’t matter where.  All you need to know is that we’re leaving here.”

“I don’t want to move.  I’m happy here.”  Tom said

Tom’s father looked at him.  For a moment, Tom thought his father would soften.  He thought the man would look at his son and realize what he was doing was wrong.  He thought he would turn into the understanding parental figure that Tom desperately wanted.  A parent who looked at him like a student rather than a burden.  Someone who was grateful to pass on knowledge and wisdom rather than a target of angst and bitterness.

“Tough shit kid.  Pack up, we’re leaving.”  Tom’s father said as he walked away.

Tom knew he should pack.  He couldn’t make himself do it.  He just sat on his bed and cried.  Eventually Tom came to a decision.  Anywhere was better than here.

Tom leapt up from his bed and began packing.  He took some clothes, some money he had stashed, and the few photos he had of himself with his mother.  As he was leaving his room he looked back at his toys and games.  Leave them Tom thought.  This is where I leave my childhood behind.

Tom snuck down to the kitchen and packed some food.  He took some canned goods and a can opener.  Using a fillet knife, he carefully removed his cast.  He tested the mobility of his wrist a few times before he was satisfied and then left the house.  He was grateful it was summer.  This was a hard enough course of action without having to worry about the cold.

The clinic was five miles away.  He knew the route by heart as he ridden his bike there and back several times.  The problem was that it was Friday night.  The clinic wasn’t open on weekends.  If he went there he would have to camp out for two days before someone arrived.  Dr. Bowman lived further away and Tom didn’t know the address.  That left Mr. Hagan’s place.  Mr. Hagan lived about seven miles in the opposite direction of the clinic.

Tom hopped on his bike and made for Mr. Hagan’s place.  He was amazed at how he had ridden for so long with his cast on.  He had actually gotten used to riding one handed.  It was a strange feeling having both hands on his handle bars.  Tom did have a bit of a problem.  He knew the general direction and the street name of Mr. Hagan’s place, but not a direct route there.  Tom figured this night was already full of risk, why not one more.

The plan was simple.  Tom lived near railroad tracks, so did Mr. Hagan.  Tom decided to follow the tracks to the nearest station, find a map, and then plot his route accordingly.

The first rail station that Tom encountered could barely be called one.  There was little more than a sign and a platform.  Most of the maps had been vandalized or removed.  The trains themselves stopped running after 11:00pm, so there were no employees to ask for directions.  Tom decided to move on to the next stop.

The next two stops were similar to Tom’s first one.  He wondered how anyone could navigate under such disorganization.  As Tom was about to leave for the next station, he saw a man sitting on a bench.  He was the tallest man Tom had ever seen.  It was tough to judge with him being seated, but Tom was sure the man was over seven feet tall.  He was wearing a white robe with a golden fringe.  Tom wasn’t sure because the lighting was poor, but he swore he saw green hair and blue skin.

The man looked over to Tom.  He held up his hand as to wave.  Tom uncomfortably waved back and hopped on his bike to leave.

The next station was in better shape than the last ones.  Immediately Tom found a map and plotted his journey.  It seemed that if he kept going the way he was going, he would hit two more rail stations, and then have to turn back to surface roads for the rest of the journey.  As he completed his map, Tom saw another man sitting on a bench.  Astonishingly it was the same man.  The lighting was better at this station and there was no mistaking it, the man had green hair and blue skin.  The man waved once more.

Tom freaked out and turned to leave.  He hopped on his bike and started peddling.  He raced like a madman.  Before he knew it he was approaching the next rail station.  As he got closer he could see the man standing on the platform.  Tom had been off a little on the height.  The man was closer to eight feet tall.  The man raised his hand in a waving gesture once more.  Tom looked at the man as he kept peddling his bike.  Tom turned to face forward and suddenly the man was in front of him.  Tom swerved quickly to the right and crashed his bike into an unseen tree stump.  Tom was thrown over his handle bars and crashed into the ground.

Tom’s vision started to fade in and out.  He heard voices as he was losing consciousness.

“Do you think he’s the one?”  A voice said.

“I’m not sure.”  Another voice said.  “We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

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