His mother was as good as her word, and by the second day on the road, Jason was on the outskirts of Houston.  Bus schedules were notoriously inconsistent, but for once things were going his way.  Other than the first four-hour leg of the trip when he had to endure a large sweaty woman seated beside him, he had the row of seats to himself.  It was a small gift, but one he welcomed.

Deep into the night, sleep fought for control of his body, but Jason fought back.  Sleep on the road was dangerous for him.  He never knew where or how he would wake.  The last two happened while I was asleep, Jason thought as he rubbed the stubble on his cheek.  There must be a connection.  Maybe the unconscious mind loses its grip on the physical world, or the...

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