Three of a Kind

Headlights lit up his rearview mirror, the truck slowing, pulling up behind him. Zane grabbed his hat, pulled it on, told himself not to panic. Just a good Samaritan. Okay.

The guy who got out of the truck was tall, wearing jeans and a wife beater. He came up to the window. "Hey. You okay?"

Zane nodded, tugged the brim of his hat down a little. No. No, he wasn't okay, but he wasn't in Abilene anymore, so that was all right. His nose was broken, for sure, maybe his cheek and he was scared to try and take his shirt off. "Truck blew the water pump."

"I'm not surprised. This thing looks like it belongs in the junk heap. In fact I think I might have a few there looking in better shape." The guy went around to the hood and put it up, checking out his engine.

Zane slid out of the cab, heading for the front. "I don't suppose you have some duct tape and water to spare? I'd be real grateful." He ached, deep inside, and just wanted to get to San Diego, see the ocean.

"I probably got the duct tape, but not that kind of water on me." The guy slammed the hood and bent a little, peering at his face. "You're almost in worse shape than the truck."

"I'll be okay. Someone'll be by with water. Thanks for stopping." He'd sleep in the truck and then figure shit out in the morning.

The guy snorted. "This time of night? You're lucky I happened by." The guy nodded at his truck. "Come on. I'll take you home and you can clean yourself up. Tomorrow I'll bring you out and the tow truck can get this puppy to the junk heap."

"I... If you've got a spare water pump, I could install it in the morning." If it cost less than the $37.50 in his pocket.

"Sure we can see what there is. Hell, it's a junk heap, there's bound to be something you can use." A square hand was thrust out. "Butch Serno."

He reached out, shook. "Zane Howell. Pleased."

Butch turned his hand. "That's a nasty scratch."

"Yeah. Been a long couple days." Real long.

"Well, let’s see if we can end this one with a bit of antiseptic and sleep." Butch led the way back to his red pick-up.

"Y...you're sure? I... I ain't got much cash to pay for a night." God, he was tired, and if this guy was going to hurt him, he thought he'd rather just lie down and die.

"Oh, I think I can manage to put a scrawny pup like you up for a night without expecting anything in return."

"Thank you, sir." He pulled down his hat again, grabbed the trash bag with what was left of everything he had, something deep inside him screaming as he lifted. Please, God. Let him get to wherever without breaking down.

The garbage bag was taken from him and put in the back of the truck and the passenger door opened. "You think you can get in without making a face like that again?"

"I'll give it my dead level best." He eased himself up, sitting gingerly.

Butch got up behind the wheel and started her up, heading back out onto the road. "How badly are you hurt?"

"I'm not fixing to die. Just real sore."

Butch nodded, quiet for awhile before they turned into a long lane into a junkyard. "I got a roommate. So you know."

"I won't cause no trouble. I swear. I'll be out of your hair in the morning."