I am Gideon: Chapter #7

The Museum of Transportation.

The Museum of Transportation had several good things going for it.  It had plenty of foot traffic, it was casually managed, minimally guarded, dimly lit, overly cluttered, and the last hour it was free to get in, and that’s when a lot of people went.  I got there with twenty minutes to spare.  I waited until several people were going in and coming out at the same time, and I sauntered in, trying to look like the visitor I wasn’t planning to be. 

I went first to the restroom and got some paper towels to wrap my sandwiches, then I strolled through the exhibits, all the while looking for a likely place to hide out for the night. This was my best hope for a safe haven. 

There were some old motor cars from Terren, and a big old bus – some horse drawn carriages from Equus and Calumet, a full-sized conveyance called a street car from Demeter.  All of them were open to explore.  The bus looked the most promising.  It was in the darkest corner and nobody was much interested in it.  I went on board and curled up behind one of the seats near the back.  I wondered if they patrolled all the vehicles after closing to see if anybody was hiding.  I figured if they did, I could pretend like I’d fallen asleep and missed the closing call. 

They did not.  They closed and everybody left.  I got up off the floor and peered out a window for a while.  Not even a guard.  I wondered if they set an alarm and if so, was it only on the doors, or would walking around set one off?  Could I look for some kind of cover or blanket?  I had no jacket and I was cold.  Could I go into the bathroom and get a drink of water and use the toilet?  I stood up and started toward the front of the bus.

I heard voices and froze.  Work lights came on and the cleaning crew got busy with the floors and the dusting.  They were none too fast, and not very efficient, but by midnight they were gone and the building was quiet again.  I crept off the bus and over to one of the horse drawn carriages from Equus.  I was pretty sure I’d seen a blanket on the seat.  I had.  It was a lap robe that had been nice at one time.  It was now very old and fragile and I wondered if it would stand up to being used, but I was freezing, and willing to take the risk.  I hadn’t wanted to eat for fear the cleaning crew would smell the cheese, but now I ate half a sandwich and made myself stop. I wrapped myself up in the blanket, flopped down on the back seat of the bus and fell asleep, missing my bed at the institution and the company of Jasper Ing. 

I was fourteen, I’d made my plan in desperation and on the fly, so it took me until morning to realize I couldn’t just get up and waltz out of the bus and into the crowd.  There was no crowd.  The museum didn’t open early.  Daytime visitors had to pay, and their hand got a stamp.  I didn’t have a stamp. I was stuck in that bus for hours.

Could I eat half a sandwich and not make the entire museum smell like cheap cheese?  Could I somehow make it to the bathroom before I wet myself?  Could I put the blanket back before one of the docents realized it was missing off the seat of the buggy?  Eternity passed. The doors swung open. Another half an hour and there were enough visitors that I could risk an exit.

It’s funny now, but my heart was in my throat and my teeth were floating with the need to urinate. I grabbed the blanket, folded it neatly as I’d been taught to do, and walked as quickly as I could over to the buggy, placing it on the seat.  Then I strolled into the bathroom, relieved myself, scrubbed my hands and combed my hair with my fingers.  I looked for a bit at the displays, then shoved my hands into my pockets and strolled out of the building.  

Image Designer Credit: Sage Hollis