Part I ~ Part II ~ Part III ~ Part IV ~ Part V

The Kris Story, Part VI
or...Reno, Part II
4.14.8

The next morning, we continued our journey up and around Utah. The longer we drove, the more we started talking again. I began to regain their trust throughout the day, and even suggested that I might as well come with them now. After all, my mom was sure to be pissed about my not having returned as planned. Of course, each time we stopped anywhere, I secretly kept an eye out for any police officers that could help me. Unfortunately, the old adage was proving true. Now that I needed a cop, there was never one around.

Another item on the growing list of problems was my lack of preparedness for such a long trip. I hadn't anticipated funding this drive to California so we had quickly run low on money. After being forced to replace a blown tire, we found ourselves pretty much screwed. In order to eat, the girls resorted to stealing fruit and canned Vienna sausages from grocery stores. We began paying for gas with whatever spare change we could collect outside the stations before being asked to leave.

In one particularly low moment, we saw a car full of teenaged boys, which led Kris to "joke" that she could offer one a blowjob for $5. She even went over to talk to them, leaving the actual conversation up to our imaginations. She later claimed that she was kidding about the blowjob, and that she hadn't actually made the offer...but I've always had my doubts.

On the other hand, one man helped single-handedly restore my faith in society during one of these stops. Seeing an opportunity to help us, he filled our gas tank, bought 2 jugs of water for our trunk, and gave us $20. I assumed he was just wealthy at first, but as he walked back to his car, something caught his eye. There was a balled up pair of denim overalls in one of the trash cans, which he proceeded to pick up. He scrutinized them for a moment, turning them over in his hands. He then nodded with satisfaction, and took them with him. At that point, I realized that he wasn't much better off than we were...he just believed in karma.

Suddenly, I was starting to enjoy this trip. Things seemed right in the world once again, and California was actually beginning to sound really nice. The captive was now becoming a runaway. Apparently the girls were in pretty high spirits as well. Kris was expressing this good mood when she made a decision that would backfire horribly.

She began to jerk the wheel lightly from side to side...a little joke that I was known to play myself on occasion. Unfortunately, she had misjudged her ability to replicate my technique at 75 MPH. Giggles turned into horrified screams as the car slid across 3 lanes of thankfully empty highway. When she overcorrected, we were treated to the same maneuver in the opposite direction. A few fishtails later and we were back in a lane going straight. "Stop the car," I demanded sternly.

"But..." she protested.

"Stop the fucking car!"

She pulled off to the side of the road, put the car in park, and turned the key. The sounds of the steadily clicking turn signal and our heavy breaths were broken only by the occasional "whoosh" of a passing truck. I told her that I was going to have to drive if we were to go any further. She didn't complain too much.

We slept in a dirt lot in some small town that night. This was where I experienced the curious phenomena of sleep-driving. It occurred three times that night (always seemingly triggered by the sound of a passing train in the distance), but I thought it all a dream until we each compared memories in the morning. Since then, I've always ensured that my keys were properly secured when sleeping in cars.

The next morning started out bad. We were out of gas and had previously planned to beg for change in front of the local gas station, but it appeared to be closed. Strangely, the pumps were still running, despite there being no discernable way to pay for gas. After much discussion (and some checking for video cameras), we filled the tank and got the hell out of there. Later on in the day, we did the same thing at a much busier gas station. Out of nervousness and habit, Kris had pumped exactly $10 before getting into the car and screaming, "Go!" Stephanie and I gave her shit all day long for not completely filling the tank.

We reached Reno that evening and California was just miles away. Once again we were getting ready to start our new lives. Throughout the trip, the girls had been making various calls to friends with their cell phone. As we sat outside some tiny outskirts casino, though, they suddenly received one; it was Kris' boyfriend at the time...someone she had barely been dating a week.

I watched as flashing yellow lights chased each other around the edges of the casino, while Kris excitedly told him about the Job Corps van, the trip to California, and everything in between. As she reached the end of her story, she found herself arguing timidly with him. Soon, she was crying and apologizing, "I'm sorry! I love you, too! Yeah, I'll come back home..."

Needless to say, I was very fucking pissed. After everything she had put me through, the times she had nearly killed us, the trouble I was going to be in...after all of this, she finally decided to go home because she "loved" some douchebag she had just met? She had refused to do the same when someone who genuinely cared about her suggested that it might be a good idea, but one conversation with this guy had changed her mind completely.

Now we were 1,000 miles away from home with no money...and we had to figure out how to get back! In an act of sheer desperation, I bit the bullet and called my mom. I explained to her what had happened, and asked her if she could wire some money to me. While she had considered the original intent of my trip to be quite honorable, she was extremely disappointed with the results. Nonetheless, she asked for the address of the Western Union I was at so she could send the money, and we hung up.

I occasionally went inside the casino to ask if the transfer had posted, but time and time again was told that it hadn't. To top it all off, the girls were in the back seat the whole time blabbering about the most idiotic things, like how great Kris' boyfriend was for caring so much about her. Eventually, enough was enough, and I yelled at them, "Shut the fuck up, ok? Just shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear one more fucking word right now!" They stayed silent for a moment, but eventually decided to take a walk where they could girl talk in peace.

I sat there alone, stewing in the dark, again watching the yellow lights which seemed to be forever doomed to run in circles, chasing after one another. The money still had not arrived, and after 15 minutes of deep thought, neither had the girls. "Fuck this," I thought to myself, "I'm hungry." I dug through my pockets and underneath seats, scrounging up just enough change for a 99¢ Rodeo Burger from Burger King. I drove across the street and stepped inside the restaurant. I placed my order and paid. I waited for my food.

I was still waiting when I noticed the police officer walking in. I turned my head and saw a second one coming in the other entrance. They had effectively surrounded me, and were closing in. It was only then that I remembered something: Exact addresses aren't needed for wire transfers, just a city name. My mom had never planned to send the money; instead she had immediately called the police with the address I had supplied her. "Are you Brian?" one officer asked.

"Yeah," I said, and within moments I was handcuffed. As the guy behind the counter called out my order number, I asked, "Can I at least get my food?" The officer wasn't amused, but then...neither was I.

They took me directly to the Sparks Juvenile Detention Center. The whole way there, I kept pleading with the officers to do everything they could to find the girls. They were out in the middle of nowhere, alone. As they booked me, I was informed that they hadn't found them. I immediately broke into tears, rambling on about how they had to keep looking. For the rest of my time there, I made sure to ask anyone and everyone if they had been found yet. I wished constantly for them to be arrested for their own protection. The anxiety I had previously felt when Kris had been put in jail was nothing compared to knowing that she was lost in the middle of Reno. I spent 3 of the worst days of my life in that jail, worrying constantly. There was no Whistler here, and there was certainly no comfort...only the cold indifferent faces of various teenaged criminals.

When I finally got home, I discovered that Kris and Stephanie had simply called the people at the Runaway Hotline, who had supplied them with bus tickets home. During that trip, Kris had fucked one of the other passengers in the bathroom.