Traveller by L.W. Samuelson (english reading book TXT) 📕

I even loaded it and brought the hammer back. Somehow I couldn’t do it so I took to the road to lose my identity, but the images follow me wherever I go.”
Traveller was at a loss for words. What do you say to someone who has lost his belief in everything he has been taught? he asked himself. And I was worried about the spaceship.
Traveller finally spoke. “You are the hero. You stood up for what you believe in. That took great courage. If you can’t rid yourself of the images, embrace them as a sign of a beautiful soul amid the soullessness of war.”
Traveller started singing, “We shall overcome, we shall overcome, someday . . .” The notes were pure. So beautiful that for a moment Austin forgot his anguish.Chapter 42 - The Band

Traveller had rented a hotel room for Austin when they got back to Pocatello. The war veteran was able to shower and clean himself up. With the new clothes Traveller bought for him, he looked respectable. The storm in his eyes had quieted. He looked ten years younger.
Luckily, Lori had found a vacant apartment nearby. She donated a few dishes and other household goods while Traveller staked him with food and money. Traveller had even found him a part time job loading boxcars. With clothes donated by Lori’s parents, he looked clean and presentable.
They discovered that Austin played harmonica and that he also knew about amplifiers and sound systems. His eyes had filled with tears when Traveller asked him to be a part of the band. For the first time in years, his life had purpose. There was a reason to get up in the morning.
So on the band’s debut at the Fifth Amendment, Austin set everything up, even tuned the instruments so that all they had to do was take the stage and start playing. He had also helped Traveller pick out a better amplifier. He had driven a hard bargain with the store owner and with Traveller’s trade-in; they had purchased it for fewer than five thousand dollars.
The Benwarian Blues Band debuted to an audience of less than twenty-five people. Traveller began the set with “Ship of Fools” by the Doors. “The human race is dying out. No one left to scream and shout . . .”
Sensing the mood of the crowd, he launched into more mainstream rock and roll songs that were made for dancing. Soon the floor filled with couples enjoying the music. Over the night more and more people arrived to listen to the new band in town.
When Traveller finally took a break an hour and a half after the first song, he discovered that band members received free drinks. He ordered a Jack Daniels double. It inspired him to sing “Gloria” in the next set. Again he transformed into Jim Morrison. The tables emptied with all but a few on the dance floor gyrating together.
His last song of the night was one he had written. By now Traveller had downed several Jack Daniels on the rocks. He sang the song in a gravelly blues voice.

Well I fell from the stars
Now I play in this bar
With no way to get home
I was lost and alone

You know things got so bad
I knew nothing but sad,
Jets were shootin’ at me
As I fled through the trees

Didn’t know what to do
My ship was blown in two
Then you took me in
I recovered my grin.

If it weren’t for you
I’d be ever so blue
Now you are my star
A balm to my scars

Yes, you took me in
Brought back my grin.
Yes, I found a friend,
Now I’m on the mend.

Everyone returned to their tables to finish their drinks. The bar quieted as people listened to the melancholy last song. When it ended, they filed out into the night.

At one o’clock in the morning, the week caught up with Lori. She had been playing bass guitar and singing back up vocals. “We drew quite a crowd tonight and now we get to go home,” she said smiling at Traveller not realizing how drunk he was.
“I wrote that last song for you baby,” he said imitating Jim Morrison. “Aren’t you gonna come over here and love me? Everybody needs a little love.”
“You’re drunk,” she said surprised at his aggressiveness.
“You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!” he shouted pointing at himself.
“Knock it off Traveller. You’re scaring me,” she said quietly.
“Can you give me sanctuary?” he asked.
Tears formed in Lori’s eyes. This wasn’t Traveller. She didn’t like what whiskey had done to him. His aggressiveness scared her. “Maybe you should go home with Tim tonight. I’m leaving. Don’t come home until you’re sober,” she said.
“Can you give me soft asylum?” he sang to Lori’s back as she walked out alone.
“You ticked her off,” said Tim. “How much have you had to drink?”
“I can take care of myself,” Traveller said staggering across the dance floor to sit in one of the chairs at a table. “You can’t touch me.”
Jesse came out of the bathroom to find his sister gone. “What happened to Lori?” he asked Tim.
“Traveller said something to her. She told him not to come home until he sobers up,” Tim replied.
“She’s tired or I’m sure she wouldn’t have gotten so upset,” Jesse said.
Austin stopped disconnecting equipment. “He can come home with me. I’ll sleep on the floor. He’s just had a little too much to drink is all.”

Traveller awoke at five the next morning to the sound of someone whimpering. He looked around in an attempt to get his bearings. He remembered playing at the Fifth Amendment, but the last part of the evening was a blank.
The whimpering grew louder suddenly becoming a scream, “No! It’s murder!” came Austin’s shout. I’m in his apartment. Why? Traveller thought. He got out of bed and walked to the small living room. Austin was curled up in a fetal position. When Traveller touched him, he straightened and opened his eyes.
“Another nightmare?”
“Same one as always,” Austin replied.
“Why am I here?”
“You got drunk and made Lori mad. She wouldn’t take you home.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.”
“You were drinking whisky. Whisky makes people do a lot of things they normally wouldn’t do.”
Traveller felt his face redden with shame. “Can I stay here a few days?” he asked. “I need to do some thinking.”
“Of course, for as long as you like. You’re paying for the place.”

Three days later, Jesse visited. “Hey Traveller, what’s up? Lori’s worried about you. She sent me over to check up on you. She wants to know when you’re coming back.”
“Hi Jesse. I am too embarrassed to see her right now. I can’t even remember what I said. How can I apologize if I don’t know what to apologize for?”
“You came on to her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Made sexual advances. Asked her to give you a little love.”
“No.”
“Yes. It was the whiskey talking. When you drink too much that’s what happens. You lose control of your tongue.”
“No more Jack Daniels for me.”
“You don’t have to quit. Just don’t drink so much.”
Traveller spent the rest of the week working and then coming home to practice playing and singing with Austin accompanying him. Austin looked better than he had in years. His dead eyes were resurrected showing the kindly soul behind them. Traveller’s company had been a Godsend for him.
The band had a scheduled practice for Saturday morning. Traveller also scheduled an apology for then. When the Lori entered the garage, he met her at the door.
“Hi Lori,” he said with his hands folded behind his back. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for last Saturday. I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you.” Traveller pulled the dozen red roses from behind his back and gave them to her.
“Roses! No one has ever given me a dozen roses before. Oh Traveller, they’re beautiful!” she said kissing him on the cheek and then drawing him to her and hugging him. “I forgive you, but please don’t ever do it again.”
“I won’t. You have my Benwarian pledge of honor.”
“And one other thing,” she said.
“Anything. You know that.”
“I miss you. Please come home.”Chapter 43 - Summer Time

After thinking about it, Traveller decided to move in with Austin. He wanted his freedom for a while. Two days after his apology, he went back to Lori’s apartment one evening to get his clothes.
The minute Lori answered his knock; she knew he wasn’t coming back. He kept his eyes averted and said, “Hi Lori. I’ve come to get a few of my things.”
“You’re not moving back in?” she said with hurt in her eyes.
“No, I need my space for a while.”
“But you’ve paid for six months rent.”
“That’s the least I can do for you,” he said looking her in the eyes. “You have done so much for me. I care too much about you to see you hurt, and I need to be unfettered and free to explore for a while. We’ll still see each other in the band.”
“I’m leaving the band. I don’t want to play with you guys this summer. I hate the cigarette smoke and the rowdy crowds we attract at the Fifth Amendment. I’ve already signed up for summer school. You guys don’t need me anyway, Austin can take my place.”
Now it was Traveller’s eyes that filled with hurt. “When did you decide that?”
“When Dr. Mellon asked me to do an independent study project on John Steinbeck. It’s to be centered on his novel, The Winter of Our Discontent. I thought about it. I can tour with a mimic and breathe cigarette smoke all summer or study a true American original. I decided on Steinbeck. I’m enthralled by his work. Touring with a bunch of rowdy guys isn’t my idea of a good time anyway.”
“I’m not always a mimic. I’ve written a few of my own songs.”
“You have become all too adept at mimicking human behavior. When I first met you, you were an original. You took joy in many of the things we take for granted. Now you drink Jack Daniels and think of yourself as Jim Morrison.”
“I love Jim Morrison.”
“Jim Morrison is dead. He self-destructed. He was a drugged up alcoholic with no self control who died at the early age of twenty-seven.”
“But he had soul; I can feel it in his music.”
“Jim Morrison was a self-indulgent, self-centered nihilist who died as a corpulent wasted shell of a man. His soul pales in comparison with Steinbeck’s.”
“You’re just mad because I’m leaving.”
“No, I’m disappointed because you have slowly devolved into a run of the mill human being. Our world doesn’t need any more of them, there are already billions living lives of quiet desperation. We need leaders, people who can discern the truth and influence the world around them. The world certainly doesn’t need another Jim Morrison.”
“So I’m a failure?”
“Only you can decide that. There’s always time to change. I’m saying you need to go back to being a Benwarian and give up trying to be human.”
Traveller walked to the hallway dresser with his clothing in it. He pulled his Levis, shirts, and underwear from the drawers and stuffed them in his duffel bag. “Will you play with us until school’s out?” he asked.
“Of course. I’ll work with Austin, make sure he’s ready. Will you think about what I said?”
“I already am,” he said stuffing the last of