The days on the bus crawl by at a painfully slow pace. At our first stop, a small truck stop diner that barely fits everyone, I found a raccoon rummaging in the dumpster out back. It definitely wasn’t a glamorous meal, but quick enough to pass off as an extended bathroom trip. I have to blame my newfound grin on the damn fine cup of coffee and cherry pie.

Since then, my wounds have healed slightly. The small snack should keep me from having to scavenge again before we reach Vegas. My newest fear is that my nose has been permanently stained by the overpowering smell of prunes, muscle rub, and baby powder that saturates this entire bus. The origin of smell is only one of the mysteries bouncing around my brain. Mainly, why was there no pursuit from town? It’s not l...

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