“Maybe that dude in the truck took him out into the desert, tortured him, and then left him for the buzzards!” Mark said, using his love of horror movies to guide his imagination. “Or maybe he’s got him tied up and is going to make him his sex slave.” Then, as an afterthought: “That perv.”
“Or maybe,” Adam mimicked, “you should shut the hell up.” “Geez, sorry.” Mark replied.
Adam began to reflect on the events of earlier that day. The whole fiasco had started when they stopped at the little mom and pop store off the main interstate. It hadn’t been raining yet and they were still having a good time. The first drops of rain began plopping on their heads when they were heading for the door of the store. The man behind the counter had reminded Adam of an actor, but he couldn’t seem to remember the guy’s name, or the movie he was in. He had just sat there, watching the boys get their snacks. Adam remembered the way the old man had just sat and stared – his piercing eyes leaving the cash register only when he turned his head to give them a nod as they left the store – and thought, Why didn’t we just fly to Vegas like Mark’s mom suggested? Oh yeah, that’s right, Adam thought sarcastically, it was John’s idea that we spend some time together because he felt we were drifting apart from each other.
As the rain had persisted, so did their feelings of seclusion. Rusty old shacks, long-since abandoned, were all that were left to be seen – and even those had slowly vanished. Then, of course, Adam thought bitterly, John realizes we were running on fumes. After making his discovery, John pulled the car over. With the rain pounding on the roof, John asked Mark to use his cell phone to get a tow truck because John’s had no reception. Of course, Mark’s cell was dead from talking to that whore he calls a girlfriend, Adam thought, reviving his anger. Adam recalled his reaction to the situation.
“Great! Just great. ‘Fill up the gas tank,’ I said. ‘Make sure your phone is charged,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry,’ you said. ‘I’ve got everything taken care of,’ you said. Well, now we’re stranded out in the middle of nowhere, no means of communication, and its hell and hail-stones out there!” Adam had lectured John and Mark, thinking it would change the circumstances.
“Hey, don’t get so crazy on us. It was a little mistake. It’s not hailing, so stop exaggerating. All we have to do is wait for a car to come by…” John replied.
“Oh, yeah?” Mark questioned. “How many cars have you seen come by?” There was a pause. “Exactly.” With that, Mark had crushed any feelings of hope for the stranded four.
“Fine! We’ll start walking then,” John commanded angrily.
“Oh no. Don’t think you’re gonna get me soaking wet because of your mistake.” Adam recalled his statement and it’s soggy irony as he wiped rain from his dripping face. He was, however, thankful that it was a warmer, tropical storm, the kind he remembered playing in as a child. He went back to his thoughts, seeing that Mark’s pessimism was diminished when they saw the dull, red, rust-eaten, pick-up truck coming down the muddy road. The man had seemed friendly enough, but he could only take one of them to his place he had said was “just up the road a ways.” John thought he should go because it was his fault, and the remaining two hadn’t seen him since. Adam wondered if John was all right, and why he had been gone so long.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They had been on the road for hours it seemed. John rested his head against the window and thought about his friends. He wondered if they were still waiting or if someone else had picked them up. As each minute passed by, his feelings of regret intensified. Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea, he worried to himself. There hadn’t been more than fifteen words between the two travelers, but both felt he knew the other. Congratulations, Susan! You chose Bachelor Number Three. Earl, an expert trucker, lives in the Mojave Desert between the cities of Barstow and Baker in a ramshackle Quonset hut. This homely looking man likes to keep to himself, doesn’t worry himself with personal hygiene and has a few screws loose; John pictured himself in a cheesy suit reading a profile off of card for a game show. Show her who she’s chosen, Bob. Pretending Earl was on one of those dopey shows like “The Dating Game” put a smile on John’s face. He started thinking about how the whole day had gone. He had really screwed up, he knew that much. He found himself thinking: If only I had listened to Adam. As rare as the thought was, it was true, and he despised himself for not paying attention to the gas meter and putting the four of them into this predicament.John had come from a disadvantaged, single-parent family and had been using scholarships and working at the campus library and a local restaurant to get through college. Earl glanced at John and figured he had always appeared as The All-American Boy: six feet tall, brown hair, hazel eyes, and athletic – a model son that every parent compares their own child to. Why can’t you be more like John? Earl heard them saying. Earl had no children, nor a wife, for that matter, to compare John to, but he made the judgment just the same. Just another pretty-boy college student, Earl thought. I bet his mommy and daddy bought that new car for him.
John continued looking out the grimy window of Earl’s truck. From his position he could see the wet road that lay ahead and the copious amounts of cacti that littered the Mojave. After five minutes in the same position he sat up, stretched and yawned. He glanced down at the watch face taped to the dashboard, a makeshift clock for Earl’s truck, and saw it had only been forty-five minutes since he had left his car behind. Hopefully the guys are still at the car. John didn’t want to discover his friends missing because they had gotten tired of waiting. “We didn’t want to wait for you any longer. We hitched a ride on a poultry truck. Meet you in Baker,” their note would say. Then he would arrive in Baker, wouldn’t find them, and they’d be lost forever. He knew his thoughts to be irrational, but his guilt kept his imagination vivid.
“Almost there.” Earl’s words were foreign to the silent cab and frightened John out of his disturbing fantasy. A form resembling a barn loomed in the dirt a little farther down the road on the left. As they got closer, John saw it was a barn that had been converted into a store and living quarters. The store sat ominously back from the road, and towered over a small unit of gas pumps. Definitely not a Chevron, John mused silently. The barn itself was a faded burgundy. The sign above the door had a white background with black letters. Earl’s Gas and Goods, clever, John thought while reading the sign. Earl pulled into the driveway and shut the engine off.
“All right. The phone is in the office. C’mon, I’ll show ya.” Earl exited the truck and headed for the barn. John noticed Earl’s walk was more of a shamble, and it made him anxious to return to his friends and the safety of his own car. John hopped out of the cab and jogged to catch Earl. They entered the store simultaneously and were both struck with a pungent odor: decay.
“Whew! Damn snakes. They come in here for shade and end up starving to death in some corner,” Earl shook his head, pinched his nose, and shrugged at John. John took Earl’s non-verbal advice and clamped down on his own nose.
They continued past a display of assorted Hostess snacks. The sight of Twinkies and Ding-Dongs reminded John that he hadn’t eaten since the bag of Rold Gold Pretzels and the Pepsi nearly four hours ago and he was getting hungry. Ruffles, Fritos, ranch and bean dip lined the aisle, announcing contests from the previous year on their somewhat dusty packaging. John was tall enough to see over the shelves and spotted the cooler filled with soda in the far left corner of the store. After I make this call I’m gonna get a soda and maybe some Doritos if they’re still good. Then it finally occurred to him that he was at a gas station. Why waste the time of a tow-truck when I could ask Earl for some gas and have him take me back to the car?
“Hey Earl? Why don’t I just fill up a gas can and beg ya to take me back to my car?” John was trying to keep the mood light in hopes of cheap gas and a ride.
“Can’t. Pumps are dry. Haven’t filled ‘em in over a year.” Earl’s voice was cold and unfeeling.
“Oh, all right. Never mind then,” John said sadly, the hopes of seeing his friends in less than two hours crushed. They pressed on silently. As they reached the closed office door John switched his right hand with his left and continued pinching his nose. In the brief moment that he breathed through his nose, he noticed the smell was stronger here than in the front of the store. He pushed the feeling of uneasiness away and followed Earl’s instructions.
“Gotta take care of some stuff. Make your call and I’ll meet you in there,” Earl had already begun walking away as he finished his sentence.
John turned the knob and entered the dark room. He felt along the wall and flicked on the light when he felt the protrusion of the switch. Dull light emanated from a single bulb, barely illuminating the cramped room. There was a desk pushed into the far right corner. Papers spilled off the sides of the desk as if it was the sinking Titanic and they were taking their chances jumping instead of being neglected. A wastebasket was situated directly left of the desk. After surveying the entire room, John entered. He closed the door behind him in hopes of cutting off the stench, and let his fingers rest. The first whiff of air made him gag. The room was filled with the stench of what could’ve been rotted garbage long since forgotten. While attempting to get used to the smell, he approached the desk intending to search for the phone underneath the mass of papers. As he reached the desk, his foot struck something. Suddenly worried, his eyes darted to the floor.
“Sheesh! Get a hold of yourself John! It’s just a shoe,” John scolded himself loudly. To prove his superiority to the shoe, he kicked it; it didn’t move. He knelt down to get a closer look – the shoe was attached to something. Curiosity killed the cat, a quiet voice piped up in the back of John’s head. In spite of the intuitive warning, John knelt to get a closer look. There was still a foot in the shoe! John got up and circled the desk. When he reached the other side he was face to face with the wrinkled, green, bloated face of a middle-aged man. He gagged, then choked back vomit and a scream. Just then, the door burst open, and Earl shuffled in.
“Made your call yet?” Earl saw that John had discovered the corpse. “Oh, I see you’ve met Bob,” Earl commented offhandedly. John noticed Earl’s glazed-over look and froze. Earl brought out an ax from behind his back and advanced. John, now completely unaware of the nauseating smell, started searching for the phone on the desk. Earl edged closer. Just as John thought it was all over his finger struck something solid.
“Ow!” John yelped as he jammed his finger on the heavy phone. In a final attempt to save his life, John lifted the phone and heaved it at Earl. He leapt up onto the desk, jumped the distance from the desk to the door and then sprinted for the front of the store. Earl, stunned at the sudden turn of events, gave a deep, throaty growl and lurched after John.
As Earl exited the office, John reached the entrance to the store. Oh please, oh please! Be open! John silently begged to the door. He reached out for the doorknob and jerked it. It didn’t budge. While John struggled with the door Earl crept up behind him. John, sensed eyes on his back, and spun around in time to see Earl raise his trusty ax. The maniacal look in Earl’s eyes told John he wouldn’t be seeing his friends ever again.
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