But even though I knew I looked ridiculous, I felt like a princess compared to how I felt in the robe and veil that I’d been wearing for almost nine months.
The next day we woke up early. Our nasty green bags were packed and ready to go. I considered our belongings as we hoisted them on our backs. We had a small purple tent—and I do mean small; it was barely big enough for two small adults, let alone large enough to get abused in every night—a couple of blankets, Mitchell’s collection of holy books, and a few kitchen items. A little food. A little water. Some of Barzee’s clothes and personal belongings. A few of Mitchell’s prized possessions, including his knife. Though it didn’t look like much, it seemed to weigh a ton!
Slinging the heavy bags over our shoulders, we made our way out to the highway.
And so started a miserable, exhausting, and convoluted journey back to Salt Lake City.
*
It took us a long time to get a ride. The first people to pick us up were a kind man and his son who took us twenty or thirty miles down the road, then dropped us off at a campground, paid our camp fees, and even brought us some groceries.
The next day a young woman with two male friends picked us up. She spent a lot of time asking me questions, trying to figure out why I was wearing a gray wig and why I was with two misfits like Mitchell and Barzee. But Mitchell never let me talk. Whenever she asked me anything, he’d jump in before I had a chance to answer. Which was a relief. I could hardly even look at her, let alone answer any of her questions. I was so used to being alone, so afraid of making Mitchell angry, and so intimidated by human contact that it terrified me to be peppered with her questions. After nine months of constant threats and manipulation, it was impossible for me to talk to anyone besides Mitchell and his angry wife. So though we rode with these people a long way, I never said a word.
We spent that night on a hillside that ran beside the highway. All of our food and water was gone and I was hungry and exhausted. Cars were rushing by like crazy. Mitchell didn’t want anyone to see us, but the hill was barren and there was nowhere for us to hide, so we got up very early in the morning, broke camp, and started walking before the sun came up.
We walked almost the entire day. It was hot and exhausting. I thought I was going to die from the lack of water and the heat.
Over the next several days, there were times when I felt like we were going to walk all the way to Utah. We got occasional rides, but many of them were only for a few miles and then we’d have to walk again. Miles and miles went by as we trudged along, the green bags slung across our backs. We hardly ate. We suffered without water. Wanting to stay away from the Highway Patrol, we kept to the back roads and little towns. Pretty soon, we found ourselves out in the California desert. It was a stupid thing to do, trying to hitchhike across the desert without anything to eat or drink.
At one point we were standing at a lonely intersection in an unknown town. There was a pie restaurant on the corner and a kind stranger took us in and bought each of us a slice of pie. I’ve never eaten anything so delicious in my life! After we had eaten the pie, Mitchell snuck around to the back of the store where they sold the pies in boxes to ship around the country. He bought a whole pie and ate almost the entire thing himself, leaving Barzee and me only a sliver of a piece to share.
With that little bit of nutrition in my belly, Mitchell herded us out again, heading north. My pack was so heavy, I was so tired, and the footing on the side of the road was so poor that I stumbled constantly. I’m not sure how far we walked but it felt like an eternity before we finally came to a barren intersection with a sign that pointed toward Borrego Springs. Once again, I didn’t have any idea where we were. Mitchell was the navigator. I was the pack mule.
A woman in a station wagon pulling a small trailer stopped to give us a ride. As we climbed in, she said that she had never picked up hitchhikers before but for some reason she had the feeling that she should give us a ride. I was so grateful! I was tired, hot, and hungry. To me she was a saint. As we drove, she tried to tell us about her recent move to Borrego Springs, but Mitchell kept interrupting, telling her his story, how he was a servant of the Lord who had been chosen to preach repentance to the world. On and on he went. I started feeling sorry for her, having to listen to him for so long. She finally dropped us off at a small Mexican restaurant in another unknown town.