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In the middle of the night, maybe one or two o’clock, Gaelen made his break. He had been planning his escape for weeks now, and had his clothes, food, and other gear packed and hidden in the barn. He sneaked out of the house, grabbed his things, jumped on his 10-speed bike, and off he went.
He rode several hours from his rural home in the Upper Midwest, heading south. Thanks to his training for football, wrestling, and track, he knew he could keep going for a long time. There was no hurry anyway. And his plans were not fully formulated. First he’d go to the Southwest, then up the California coast, and maybe back towards home sometime. For now, Gaelen knew only that he had to get away.
Westward Bound. The first days were tough. The fifteen-year-old was…
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