Victor Charlie (part three)

Inspired perhaps by watching Across the Universe, I wanted to write something that took place in the sixties. This is a joint writing project between myself and my hubby Austin Cushing. The year is 1967. What is it about? Well, primarily it's a story about best friends, hippies, government conspiracies, and a whole lot of love..

It's a serial story, so we'll be posting it in installments. This is part three , you can read the first two parts here. and here. This part is a little short - but the next part will make up for it by being extra long.

We actually have about four more parts of this written - I've just been slow about posting them! Many thanks to the kind lady who wrote to Aus wanting to read more - thanks for the motivation to stop slacking and start posting. ;)

Charlie hadn't been very good with words lately. Most of the time, he didn't have anything worth saying, and even when he did, the words just didn't come. So trying to explain to his mother what was on his mind was, at best, difficult. Once she'd gotten the gist of where he was going and what he was planning, of course, she strongly objected. After all, he had doctor's appointments to keep. Doctors who would poke him with needles and prod him with equipment and ask to see inside his thoughts, all for his own good, of course.

In the end, though, she had either understood what Charlie was trying to express, or given up on trying to talk him out of it, and Charlie was sitting alone on the porch of his house, watching the road and waiting for a van held together by tape and faith.

The familiar van pulled on up, chugging a bit as it came to a stop. Victor bounded out of the driver's side, a headband holding back his hair and a wide smile on his face.

"Charlie! You ready, man? You got bags you want me to put in the back?"

He was anxious to get on the road, start heading back to the place he called home these days. With Charlie, this time. As it should be.

 "Yeah." Charlie got to his feet, and picked up his duffel bag - a simple drawstring bag with a strap along one side. He carried it over towards the back of the van. "Are you ready?"

 "So ready," Victor said. He opened up the back of the van so that Charlie could throw his duffel in. In preparation for the trip, Victor'd cleaned up the back of the van and packed in some extra bedding (taken from his room at his mom's house). He'd also collected as much snackfood as he could manage, and filled up the tank.

"Welcome to our home on wheels," he said.

 Charlie tossed his bag in, and then climbed in after it. "It has carpet," he observed.

"It does indeed," Victor said. He closed the door behind Charlie, then got in on the driver's side.

Once settled he looked back towards Charlie's house. "Your folks out?" he asked. "You need to say goodbye or anything?"

"Already did," Charlie answered. "Not happy."

 "Yeah, I didn't figure they'd be," Victor said.

"But hey, you can write and call and all that. And look - see the road, stretching out before us? It's calling our name. It's all 'come travel down me, young sons of America.'"

He smiled, hoping it would catch on with Charlie. "We're at the beginning of an adventure."

"Young sons of America?" Charlie chuckled a bit. "Are we young?"

"Hell yeah, we're young. We're so young we're still wet behind the ears," Victor said, borrowing an expression he'd read somewhere in a magazine.

"Our generation is it, man. We're going to change the world. That's pretty far out, isn't it? That kind of power and responsibility. But hey, we're having a lot of fun along the way..."

Charle absently felt behind an ear. "So where first?"

"Down the highway and outta town," Victor said.

"Then we drive until we get tired, find some place to pull over and sleep. Unless you wanna take a turn driving, and we can drive in shifts. But sometimes, the van likes to rest. Poor ol' girl isn't as young as we are, in van years..."

"I can drive," Charlie commented. "If the van isn't tired."

"Alright then- rest when you get tired, and I'll nudge you if you start drifting into bad dreams. Then when I get tired, I'll wake you up and you can take over the driving."

It sounded like a good plan, at least for the time being. "And if the van gets tired, and we're both all worn out - we pull over for some major rest time."

"Sounds fair," Charlie agreed, and drifted along in silence for a moment. After a few minutes, he added, "What'd your mom say?"

"She said 'Next time you come home, come home with some goddamn money...'," Victor said with a wry smile. He shrugged. "Fair enough, you know. She supported me for eighteen odd years. I guess I should give something back someday."

 "Yeah. Moms should be cherished," Charlie agreed, eyeing the horizon.

Victor laughed. He wasn't sure whether Charlie intended that as a joke or not, but it sure was funny.

"I got some snacks and shit in the back, but if you get hungry for real food let me know and we'll stop, okay?" 

"Okay," Charlie answered, and watched the road ahead. After a few moments, he shaded his eyes and squinted. "Wonder who that is."

"Who where?" Victor asked, then looked where Charlie was looking. A girl up ahead in the distance, with a guitar slung over her back and a thumb out towards to road.

"Some girl hitchiking. Think we should pick her up?"

"Maybe." Charlie shrugged. "Is she going to California?"

"Only one way to find out," Victor said, and pulled over. He honked the horn, and waved towards the figure.