The Long Road

The empty bottles rattled around the back of his pickup as he throttled over a chunk of loose pavement on this pothole stricken roadway. He clicked off the radio as static was beginning to course through. Not that he could hear the radio well at all as wind was starting to whip past his ears. It was entering from right behind him. The large glass panel where the rear window used to be had been removed. Well, it had shattered. A foreman's loose brick had fallen from the lifted payload, it dented the bed and hopped right through. He got an extra $1.75 on his paycheck to get it repaired. But he might just bet it on a horse instead. He liked to feel the warm Nevada air at his back as sunset fell behind him. Plus it made it easy to throw his empty beers in the bed of the truck. 

Doing so left the cabin uncluttered for his dog and himself. Stevie appreciated it as he lifted his head to note the pick up of speed. The graying beagle used to get excited when the truck picked up speed. He would claw at the window to get him to roll it down. But now he was older and these trips weren’t as fresh and wondrous. 

“Yeah, that’s life boy.” He said and gave him a pat on his rump. Stevie shifted and got comfortable on the stippled leather bench that they both sat on. As he dragged his eyes from the old dog he saw a great pothole careening up at him. In truth it was themselves that were careening towards it. They had come to a bend in the road too quickly. 

“Jesus!” Dave shouted, twisting the wheel as his tires squealed. He hit the pothole with the back right tire with a thud. The impact almost shook his dog to the floor. But at least he saved the suspension from a hard twist and snap.

“God damn!” He spoke to himself. “Guess, I had one too many.” He rolled down his window with a couple cranks and drained the last warm bits of beer out into the air. Trying to not let it drizzle onto the caramel brown paint job of his truck. Then when satisfied he threw it in the back with the half dozen others. 

But the drizzle reminded him he needed to drain his own. So he pulled over in a great pillar of dust as the wheels screeched the car to a stop. He admired this rocky mountainous landscape and in appreciation of the beauty added his own stain to the terrain. When he was done he took a moment to smoke a cigarette. All the while Stevie was curled up inside the cab. Awaiting his owner to get this show on the road. His bones ached for some firm ground and a nice warm blanket at the foot of the master bed. 

“We gonna be driving through the night though.” Dave thought of his own bed but in his mind it was cold. He relished the smoke in his lungs against the cool air of dusk. The tingle it gave him over the buzz of beers. Working in tandem to take his mind off the drive ahead. He looked over to a sign next to the road. It was shot full of holes from a .22 caliber rifle but was clearly marked H 20. 

He pulled out the map of Nevada. The coffee spill had circled Las Vegas like some bullseye. He always found that funny, like it had been highlighted with a clumsy hand. Like fate had told him where he was supposed to be heading. And he would get there. Eventually. 

He thought this highway 20 all the way down might be quicker. Most of the other construction workers would take interstate 93 from Wells. But he had a hunch old forgotten 20 might be quicker. Less traffic. If Dave really pressed himself he would find he didn’t mind if it wasn’t. Actually, he might find that he hoped it was longer. 

A beaten down car was approaching his stopped one and as it zoomed by the driver honked the horn sporadically. It might have elicited a beer bottle thrown at the wild driver if Dave had not recognized the car. It was Jeremiah, a Mexican man from work. A fun man who cursed in that funny language when the boys riled him up. Jeremiah stuck a thumb up as he passed. Dave returned it and gave him a cheerful wave as he sped off. 

He flicked his finished cigarette at the road sign. Sparks whirled into the wind on impact. He folded up the map and entered back into the car. 

“Well we must have convinced him our idea isn’t crazy. You know, like some psychic.” He looked at Stevie who hardly tilted his ears up as the door slammed behind Dave. The radio static blared suddenly and Dave was quick to turn it off. 

“The fuck, I turned that off.” he muttered. He thought he had. He was sure he had. As he sat in silence with only the soft reverberation of the engine and the wind rolling off the hills around him he became less sure. It was on when he got in. So he must have messed something up. Maybe it was the stupor of those beers. He would be sure not to drink anymore. Besides the fact the radio was acting up, or he was forgetful, something else gave him pause. There was something in that static. It must have picked up a broadcast. He thought he heard a woman's voice mixed in. 

It gave him a chill. One putting on his denim jacket didn’t help protect from. Mainly because his belly was too big now to button it up properly. 

He flicked on his headlights. That helped. Knowing he would be able to cut a swathe through the night. It was dusk proper now and only getting darker. They had a full tank of gas… Well mostly. He filled up in Carlin knowing it would be ninety miles to the next gas station in  Eureka. A place he’d still be going through. Only eighty miles away now he supposed. No more stops, no more idling, and no more gas stations between here and there. He looked at the odometer and it was at 33,013. His math wasn’t great but he assumed when it was around 33,093 they would be there. He couldn’t get lost either. It was a straight shot. No other roads came off of highway 20 on the map. 

“Okay,” He put the Ford in gear and with a rattle and a shake they were off again. Jeremiah's brake lights flashed through the twist and turns of the desert landscape ahead. He wasn’t too far off. Good. Either one of them would stop if the other fell too far ahead or behind. He was sure Jeremiah would take note. He was a good man after all. He sobered up after that piss and now with no music to keep him company the focus was all on the road. The cracks of the asphalt zigzagged under the car. The F100 handled the turns well. He crossed the double lines to avoid the bigger potholes but they kept a generous speed of fifty-five miles per hour for the most part. The odometer picked up numbers faster than he thought. He was dialed into the drive. Operating his vehicle like an extension of himself. Running through these dried up foothills and soon down into the plains. The plains he could not see yet as the sun was truly gone behind. Only his lights to guide him now. Dave noted the cracking pavement where the road gave way to the shoulder. Just on the edge of his lights. He had to slow down sometimes as the headlights picked up potholes in accordance to his speed. He took a hard one that bounced his head off the cabin roof, and learned the hard way.

The lights also showed the world around, only slightly. He was passing shrubs and desert trees that encroached on the road. Street signs too, some vandalized and tilted over. Others shot full of holes. But most of the surroundings were dirt. Dust and rocks that were strewn across the road ahead of them most pushed off and compacted on the side of the road. A couple times his wheels found this shoulder. As he meandered slightly and kicked up plumes of dust before righting himself. It happened a second time and Stevie became upset. He sat up and yawned. Pushing towards Dave and placing a paw on the man's leg. 

“I know. I know. Bumpy road okay, sometimes it's better to veer off a bit. Whole thing is falling apart.” 

Stevie reluctantly sat back down. This time looking out the window. Staring into near pitch blackness. He yawned again and stilled. 

“The fuck you looking at you daft dog?” Dave said and returned his attention to the road. He kept looking for those brake lights in the night but he could no longer find them. Either Jeremiah had gotten that far ahead. Or. The road was so twisted that it hid him. 

“Fucking map told me this shit was traight.” He said gruffly. 

Dave decided to keep a lookout on the side of the road. In case Jeremiah had stopped and needed help. He would do the same thing for him. He was sure.

That’s why he liked construction. There was a camaraderie between the men. After all the shit they gave each other. They all knew they had each other's back. It didn’t matter the ethnicity. They might chirp you all day long about your accent but you were sweating and grunting next to these boys twelve hours a day. They were in this together. It reminded him of when he was in basic training. Even more so when he was overseas in Belgium. But he didn’t like to think about those days.

He looked at his watch. He had been driving for almost an hour. Really getting the hang of it too. Edging the corners. Gearing up and gearing down. Feeling the truck twist and turn as he hit the corners and avoided bigger gashes. He was more careful now, anything he hit too fast could blow a wheel and then he would be stuck out in the middle of nowhere. He was almost through. Wasn’t he? It was only eighty miles after all. 

He kept scanning the horizon on long straight stretches. Looking to see the lights of a town out here. Or hell, any other lights of cars. He felt strangely alone. Cold. The wind whipping in the cab from the broken back window didn’t help. 

Stevie let out a shrieking howl. 

“Jesus!” He sputtered as the car fishtailed into the oncoming lane before he got it under control once more. 

Stevie pawed at the window. Reminding Dave how rambunctious he was as a young pup. He pawed at the window and let out a long scowling howl once more. 

“Hey! Stop that!” he slapped at the dog to shake him from antics. Stevie with a long drooping face just stared back at the man. 

“What? What is it?” He asked, slowing down somewhat after the commotion. 

The dog sniffed around and circled his seat before sitting down. Obviously uncomfortable. Dave kept his eyes on both his dog and the road. He was only giving a low whine now. Something Dave didn’t hear unless Stevie was left outside their kids room. Naturally protective like that. What the hell? He thought. 

Then he caught the first wisps of dust in the air. It was cascading through the high beam lights. Like trails of cottonwood spores. A thought of Jeremiah careening off the road popped into his head. It would explain why the taillights disappeared and why dirt that looked like smoke was blowing across. But then the dust was all around them. The wind was loud and almost shaking the car. They entered a wall that blanketed not only across the road but the entire landscape. Covering the stars and yanking them away. It swirled in the cabin as well and Dave fetched a handkerchief to cover his mouth. He cursed that that back window was gone now. They pushed forward. The odometer slowly clicking away. Still a handful of miles outside Eureka. Time being ate away on his watch. Sometimes the dust storm was so thick he could only tell where the road was by the feeling of the tires on the asphalt. Then knowing when he slipped off of it when the sound changed.

But they were close to where they needed to get. The odometer was almost past 90 miles. Gas or electric street lights could be seen any minute now. He hoped. The storm was too thick. Stevie started hacking as the dust swirled in the cabin. Dave placed his coat over the older dog and that calmed him. It let him huddle down in peace. It left Dave alone to traverse the storm. It reminded him of the snow storms overseas. He had that same feeling too. That something was waiting out there for him. 

That was just stress playing tricks on him. Still, whatever that feeling was, finally he knew it was too dangerous. The winds buffeted him and made his high beams fade to near nothingness. In those moments they were pushing along at barely ten miles an hour, driving by feeling, as limbs of shaky light tried to split away the buffeting storm. He coughed and sneezed and soon his eyes were chalk full of dirt. It didn’t matter if his high beams showed the world clearly if he couldn’t see at all. He pulled over. Letting go of his stubbornness. 

Dave affixed his jean jacket and his work overalls to the back window and were left with a somewhat clear cabin. With a small flashlight he calmed his dog. Clearing the dust from his eyes and patting him on the head. “I’m sorry, buddy. I should have stopped sooner.” He said holding him. “We will just wait this out and be back on the road before you know it.”

The cabin was a mess and the dash and the dashboard instruments were covered in the fine particles. He wiped it away the best he could. They both shook the dust off themselves. Not that it was terribly annoying. He was used to being dirty. Especially at the construction site. He missed it already. Building a stupid bridge outside Elko was good money. And it was a good amount of time away from the family, who could be smothering, badgering. But it was away from most comforts too. You wanted a bath you had a barrel you could splash yourself from. 

Most of the men waited to shower when they got a hotel in town on their off days. But some were doing that mainly for the company they found. Found. He laughed at that. Paid for was the correct term. 

He was guilty of it too. 

With nothing but wind shrieking outside and darkness to keep him company he thought back to last week. He hadn’t remembered her name but he remembered going limp inside her. How she rolled her eyes at him. That bitch, he was drunk after all. He should have rung her bell. She laughed at a hard working man who needed some comfort. Comfort he wouldn’t find back home.

“Yeah, we are still a long way from home, aren’t we?” He looked at his watch, wiping the dust away from the face. Then looking at his odometer. It was at 93. They were close to Eureka. It was out there. Just beyond this wall of dust. Beyond this great cacophony of wind whirling around them. Making the car feel like a plane. That sensation was making him sweat. He imagined flak bursting just outside as him and his platoon were huddled so close like they were sardines in a can. Holding on to each other. Just waiting. Hoping one good hit wouldn’t tear the whole plane in two. Parachutes don’t work then. Stephen was in front of him all of a sudden. Stuck in recollection like they were stuck in that plane. Dave held his shoulder and in turn he gripped onto Dave’s sleeve so tight it was like he was wringing out a towel. Making his hand go numb. But he didn't let go. Not until they were out the door. 

The storm shook the car and the jacket fell loose. Shaking him from his stupor. He replanted it. And waved away the juts of dust that had snuck through. Coughing. 

He didn’t want to be reminded of anything like that again so he flipped on the radio. Besides, it was a long time ago now. Stupid to even think about. He scanned through different channels until he heard singing. Singing and guitar, true and clear. No static around. 

“See we're close to civilization and not even at half-a-tank.” He smiled at his dog who slapped the seat with his tail a couple times in a comforting wag.  

The song played but it wasn’t familiar to him. It had a twangy banjo and an even more twangy woman singing the lyrics. 

I was standing by my window

On one cold and cloudy day

When I saw that hearse come rolling

For-to carry my mother away

Will the circle be unbroken

By and by, Lord, by and by

There's a better home a-waiting

In the sky, Lord, in the sky

It reminded him of something Johnny Cash would sing. Dave was thankful for any song that could drive himself out of his own memories. He was even more glad it was good music. 

I said to that undertaker

Undertaker please drive slow…

The radio indicator jumped to the right. Moving through all the channels and driving the music off. Static leapt through and grew until it was a screech. It made his ears ring and his heart race at how sudden it was.

“Fuck!” He shouted and flipped it off as Stevie howled again. A long mournful call. 

“What the hell is up with this thing!” He pounded on the dashboard. Almost bringing his steel flashlight down on it. To shatter it in frustration. But he stopped himself. It was a ‘57. A damn-near new car that was the envy of most of his co-workers. A good car too. It just needed a new back window and rewiring of the radio, that's all. 

He turned the radio back on. Wary for his ears, but found that the shrieking had subsided. He flipped through the channels again and the song was nowhere to be found. Guess it’s truly on the fritz, he decided. But as he turned it off. A voice spilled through amongst the crackles.

“come home...,” It uttered. 

“What the…?” he replied. When he flipped it back on. It was gone. Just static. 

“It must have been the rest of the song. Maybe the storm is blowing interference around.” He learned that word during radio operation in basic training. Interference. That’s what it was. Surely… But the voice didn’t sound like it was singing. And… 

It sounded like his daughter. 

Suddenly he very much wanted this storm to be over. He very much wanted to be home. To see his wife and his little girl. The very same one who watched fourth of July fireworks in the bed of this truck. That’s what this car was meant for. Not beer bottles rolling around in the back. But a family camping in it. Watching fireworks and eating ice cream.

They just had to wait for this storm to blow over. They’d be home soon enough. 

However, an hour passed and it was still going. His headlights painted the billowing dust in a most disorienting way. It looked like they were in a waterfall. Or they were falling. When it cleared somewhat and the sheets of dust were spread thin. He could see more than twenty feet, at certain times he swore he saw movement. 

Figures entering into the swathes just out of view. But he knew it was just shadows. He was tired even this early in the evening and bored, and sobering up. His mind was playing tricks on him. Nothing was out there but coyotes and battered brush. Maybe it was tumbleweeds that were skittering around? Maybe that's all the shadowy shapes were? But a man can deduce truly the truth and yet that gnawing doubt is still settled there. At the base of the spine. A cold doubt. A fear. He knew it well. He lived in it for years. Waiting for something out of the air to snatch him up. He thought he’d never feel it again. But here he was. 

He didn’t wanna sit around anymore. So he shifted and gassed it and they pulled back into the road. Moving slowly and surely. The storm wasn’t as bad as it had been. Until it was. Until it got worse. He pulled over again. Then as it cleared somewhat, he did it again, moving a little at a time. This is how they inched their way forward. He hoped people coming the other way weren’t doing the same. They might clash around a bend. The headlights of each car giving warning too little too late.  

The odometer flipped over into the 100’s. It had been hours since the storm started.

“Did you see any signs? Any other roads?” He asked his dog. 

The dog just whined softly, still nervous. The whites of his eyes showed. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He agreed.

He was too far. He should have been in Eureka by now. Was his math off? Was it still far ahead? Or had he passed it and not known? It was so damned dark and the storm only made things worse. 

So he dragged out the last minutes of the storm waiting on the side of the road. He shook off his feelings with the last couple of beers. That settled him. In turn, that settled Stevie. Dave pulled down his jacket and threw the empties in the back. They bounced off his rucksack and clattered to where the others lay. 

The storm was settling down and the final wisps of dust drifted past his headlights. He finally could get his bearings. He was on the side of the road alright. Only a couple of feet from a steep embankment. If he kept drifting off he would have been tumbling down this hill. He got out and looked around scanning the shrubs with his flashlight. Short dried weeds laid around in patches on either side of the road. Scattered atop rocky and dusty terrain of golden sands. So he imagined. He could only see thirty feet with his lights.  The world beyond was twilight. The storm hadn’t left a cloud in the sky and he saw twinkling stars. A comet striked through the air. He would have appreciated more if he wasn’t scanning the world in front of him for other headlights, or gas lamps. Anything man made. Ones denoting gas stations or motels or anything. Even cars would do. He could wave them down and ask directions. 

“Why the hell is it so dark?” he asked himself. He looked around for the moon but it must have been hidden by some faraway cloud. It was a moonless night and he didn’t find it when he used the flashlight like a spotlight. Peering through the sky for it. 

Stupid, he told himself. But he was doing strange things tonight. Taking this way home was strange to start with. Now that he was here it just felt like an even worse idea. It was just too secluded out here. The desert too vast, the canopy of night like an oppressive blanket. Something draped over him and sank into his flesh out here. Smothering him. But that might have been the fear that something was out here with him. He kept turning the light around. Ready to warn off coyotes. But he didn’t see anything. He was alone. That’s what he told himself. 

Pouring over the map on the hood of the car. He plopped his finger on Eureka. “Highway 20, almost stops right in it. I can’t have missed it!” He must have done his math wrong. Or the odometer was spinning wrong. Just something else the warranty wouldn’t cover. Figures. 

“Alright.” He sank back into his seat. Scanning the roadside for any signs of movement one last time. Nothing. He closed the door and calmed Stevie before putting it into gear and pressing forward. 

The odometer clicked past 100 and soon it was almost halfway to the next hundred. He winded and twisted through hills that all looked the same, from what he could tell, the edge of his lights painted them accordingly. He stopped after going 40 more miles and no signs of any lights on this road nor around it. It didn't rightly make sense. This road goes right through Eureka! He thought again. If he was on highway 20 then he would have been there already. Enjoying a malt at a diner and waiting the storm out. 

His watch was almost to midnight. There could be another explanation… 

Maybe he wasn’t on 20. 

Maybe he was somewhere else. 

He pulled over again and scanned the map. Not getting out of his cab this time. He felt exposed outside. Him and Stevie would stay put. 

On the map there were no other roads he could be on. It was eighty miles straight. But the map was a couple years old. Plus, there were no road signs he passed in the last hour. It could be unmarked. Some military road to an undisclosed base. He better go back before some MPs brand him as a red spy. He laughed at that idea. 

“We are lost,” He told Stevie. “We made a wrong turn somewhere, damn. Went left when we should have gone right.” He admitted defeat and dragged the wheel around. In shame he pushed the car back the way they came. 

He drove for an hour like this. Winding and twisting, backtracking on the same path. It looked wrong this way. It wasn’t how he remembered. Night plays tricks on you, making things similar look strange. It was too dark to tell. Most of these miles he did in a dust storm. What really was odd was that the elevation was shifting so drastically. Sometimes it felt like an endless road was before him. Being built just for his tires. It pulled them up. An incline that felt like he was miles above sea level now. He couldn’t tell. He couldn't see the world around him to orient himself. He couldn't see the angle of the car against the horizon. Only felt the slant of it. 

It was just his drunk wearing off. Or the trick the headlights played while pushing through this sandy terrain veiled in ebony. Sometimes he felt like he was going straight down. When the road twisted and turned and weaved through hills. He felt himself hitting potholes harder and harder. His speed was picking up. The car must be descending. For miles it felt like this. But the elevation on the map was hardly anything at all. It couldn't be right. He was in hill country and flatlands for most of the jaunt. It might be tilted roads but it wasn't this dramatic. Up and down. He had just driven this road the other way. Albeit slowly. But still the elevation was flat. He was sure of that. His beer wasn’t shifting nor spilling. It had to be a tired man's brain playing tricks on himself. 

Soon he would find 20 again and be off to Eureka. But scanning the familiar landscape confused him more. There were no signs. No offshoot of roads. Not even dirt ones. Nothing. He had driven 100 miles the other direction and now it was 3:43 in the morning. His gas tank was a little lower than a quarter. 

A shape was revealed as he went around the bend. His headlights slowly caressed its frame. It was a car on the side of the road. Crashed into a prickly flat tree that was more like a bush. It had an odd shiny silvery paint job and it had a tiny frame to it. The size of a cart a horse might drag behind. He pulled off behind it. Letting the headlights hold it in the beams. He cracked the door and the gravel crunched under his boots as he approached. Stevie stayed in the car but watched nervously. 

“Hello!?” He called out. His flashlight in hand and his tire iron in the other. He pulled it out under his seat just in case. He needed something out here. He didn’t know why. He just felt braver holding it as he trekked away from his truck. No more than thirty feet. So he could still see it if another storm enveloped him. 

He approached from the back of it. It was a small sedan with a stunted body and weird curved corners. Something he had never seen before. Its side mirrors almost looked like little bug antennas sticking out. It was like a clown car. Or something they made in europe. What was it doing here? He ran his fingers over the metallic name on the back. Civic. Below that it had the motorcycle company logo stamped on the bumper. Honda. He didn't know they made cars. 

He pushed around the side. Letting his flashlight show him the interior. It was empty. Two gray leather seats, the driver side was clad in a beaded cover. In the backseat was a suitcase. Odd. He touched the hood. 

Cold. 

Hasn’t been on in awhile. He spun around and looked out into the desert beyond. A sensation frightening him. Nothing was there. Nothing he could see.  But it was dark. Ungodly so, when he moved his flashlight from bush to bush it unnerved how quick the dark was to take its space. Like it jumped in swirls to settle back down as he passed. He cracked open the driver's side door. It smelt of dust as he poked his head into the cab. 

Keys were in the ignition. 

He turned it and it jumped to life. Headlights lit up the tree it was leaning into. The tank was on empty itself. The instruments inside were odd. Less bulbous and more sleek. And the radio blared to life, making him jump and hit his head on the rim of the door. He banged on the panel buttons to try and turn off the blazing static but couldn’t figure it out. Instead he just turned off the car itself and tossed the keys in the passenger seat.

This was definitely an imported car. He turned it off and ran his fingers through his hair while tapping his foot on the ground. Waiting for this car abandoned out here to tell him something. He could go through that suitcase but he felt that was too nosey. 

“Hello!?” He called out again. Nothing. 

“Do you need help?!” He screamed. 

Silence.

“I might,” He muttered to himself. 

He scanned the ground and saw pressed into the gravel and dust was footprints. Small ones, maybe a woman's. Coming out from the passenger side and into the desert. 

He followed them a couple paces. 

They were spread out and in a straight line. She had been running. He turned and looked back. The headlights lit the strange car up like a beacon. He could follow these somewhat and not lose it.

So he did. Moving away from the road. Tracking. Letting the flashlight guide him as he went from footprint to footprint. Out into the open space. Out into the brush where the wind rattled the flora around him and made his hair stand on end. Soon the flashlight was scanning around him with every other step. Making sure nothing or no one was sneaking up on him. But it felt like he still saw so very little. His truck and its headlights were growing smaller and smaller. 

Why would she run away? The road was more safe than out here. Surely. 

She must have gotten disoriented in the storm. Maybe she could’t find her car and went the wrong direction. But it was in a pretty straight line and she was running. Why was she running? Nothing, no one, was chasing her, as far as Dave could tell. Why would the footprints still be intact if she had gotten lost in the storm? Wouldn't it have blown them away? Wiped them clean in the wind…

He turned back when a gust of wind fell on his back and gave him a jump. The cars were far away now. Maybe a quarter of a mile. He should leave Stevie by himself in there. But this woman. This person could need help…

He tracked for another minute before he stopped. The footprints were there. A staunch one, a frantic print with the toe cutting into the soft sand. Then the next one. Gone. He circled around it in all directions. She hadn’t leapt and landed anywhere. She had disappeared, he thought wildly. The trail ended here. Like she took flight. Or something made her vanish. 

“Hello?” He whispered out. He had lost all strength to call out loudly. He suddenly hoped that he wouldn't get a reply. He stopped. Listening to the world around him. He backed up a step. The sand under his foot was suddenly very loud. Giving himself away to whoever was listening. There was someone listening. Or something. He was sure of it now. But he couldn’t find the bastard with his flashlight. 

He peered over his shoulder. His car’s light was just a pin point in the velvety black world around him. So far away too. Why had he gotten so far out here? 

He stepped back again. And again. No longer wanting to shine his light around this area. He was deeply afraid of what he might find. She had vanished. He didn’t want to do the same. He kept his eyes ahead and focussed on his truck's headlights. When the next shifting breeze hit him it launched him into a run. He scampered back, stumbling over rocks and snake holes until he was gasping at his truck’s door. Stevie was roused from the commotion and was barking. Dave jumped into the truck and locked the doors. 

“Holy fuck,” He panted, leaving the tire iron out on the seat. Stevie crawled into this lap and was licking at him. He gave the area around them one last look with his light. Nothing. Just the shifting brush and drifting sand of the desert. And the road beyond. 

“I gave myself a fright I think,” He said, patting his dog. 

This was ridiculous. He was a combat veteran. He had killed before. He had navigated France and Bastogne with a map and a compass. He had been back home for years now and lost his edge? Letting the dark get to him. This was peaceful. This was quaint out here. There were no kraut mortars shrieking through the night to wake him. To kill him and rip his friends to shreds. 

“I’m being a pussy,” He took a deep breath pushing his dog away. “A fucking pussy.” He started to laugh. “I didn’t see the car when I passed it the first time because there was a storm. And she or whoever ran out into it and the storm fucked with the tracks. She’s probably a hop head who fucked herself up. It’s not my problem. We’re getting back on road 20 if it fucking kills me. Now where the fuck is it?” He looked in both directions. His headlights hardly showed him anything at all. 

“Alright,” He sighed. “We best just wait till fucking morning.” He put the car back in park. He waited. Looked at the abandoned car some more. Then out into the desert. “Let’s wait somewhere else though. This place gives me the creeps.” He shifted into gear and moved on. They went a couple miles down the road before he pulled over. Leaned his head against his bundled up jacket and let the cool desert night drift himself to sleep. He was exhausted and it was only a couple hours until morning. 

When he awoke the radio was playing. 

A voice over the static shrieked through. “Da...” then it settled into static again. 

“What the fuck!” He said as he shifted to another channel. Any transmission that was being picked up was no longer there. He clicked it off. It was still dark out. He must have only slept an hour or two. 

“Do you keep turning it on?” He asked Stevie whose baggy eyes couldn’t see why his owner was upset. They both got out and pissed. As Dave did so he wondered if he had slept through any cars that passed them? Surely not. That would have been enough to rouse him at least. But he had slept hard from the beers. Feeling particularly well rested. Maybe he hadn’t, or maybe no one passed by at all. Why would they? This road was a backwoods turn off, long abandoned. They were lost in the middle of nowhere and it was late. Or now early. He checked his watch. 6:43. Sun will be coming up soon. 

He stretched his back out. Letting his old bones settle themselves

Shit. Sun should be coming up right now. He checked his watch again. They got to work around this time in the morning light. However, Dave couldn’t see any edge of blue on the horizon. No sign the sun was coming up. Plus there were still plenty of stars in the sky. Still no moon however.

It must be a waning moon so narrow it is hardly visible. He shrugged. He waited an hour around the inert car. Feeling sore in his legs from doing an all out sprint last night. How out of shape had he become? In basic he could sprint with a hundred pound pack on and still do a 10k ruck after. 

The twilight was the only thing that met him. He started to wonder…

“Did we sleep through the day?” He asked his dog. Stevie yawned ready for more. 

He looked at his watch again. 7:38 now. His watch wouldn’t specify AM or PM because why would it? He wasn’t an idiot. Something had happened. Dave doubted the sun was stolen from them. There was still no sign of it though. 

It wasn’t morning, it was night again. 

“Did we miss the sunrise?” He asked. “What the fuck! Did we miss the sunset?” 

It felt wrong. Sure he was rested. Sure, he was tired before, a little drunk, really exhausted. But that means they slept, what… fifteen hours straight? That he didn't wake up once at a passing car? Or the sun baking down on them. Or Stevie nudging him to let him out to piss. 

It was eight-o-clock and it was still twilight. Only seemingly getting darker. 

“What the absolutely fuck.” He couldn’t believe it. The oddities out here. The tricks his mind kept playing on him. He couldn't trust his senses. His direction was off. The elevation was off. His sense of time. It was just too damn dark and now it was dark again. He had slept through the entire day. They were back to square one in this hellhole of a landscape. He finally came to terms with it and loaded himself back into the car. He would drive all the way back to Carlin if he had too. This time he would get back and take the freeway back to Vegas. He’d get home and hug his wife and kid and apologize for being a day late and a dollar short. God how he wanted to see them again. To see anyone again. 

He was on the verge of crumbling. Of careening into a bush just like the car before at one bad turn. He couldn’t help at the speed at which he drove. Every turn dashed hopes against cliffs cliffs. No lights on the horizon. No other cars. Just headlights showing a landscape of nothing and a fast approaching empty gas tank. He had driven for hours in this direction and Carlin wasn’t here.

Had he got turned around again? Had he taken another road that was unmarked. There was nothing. Nothing to denote where he was. The map was useless. He wasn't on highway 20. He wasn’t anywhere as far as he could tell. He kept driving and when the odometer ticked away he knew it was fucked. It told him he was driving for a hundred miles in this direction. That couldn’t be true. He would be back in Carlin. Or he would be in Eureka if he had gotten turned around. Or anywhere. A hundred miles anyway he’d have an empty gas tank and be in a town, or base, or anywhere. 

But he had stopped and turned around a couple of times. Waffled back and forth. He needed to choose one direction and stick to it. To let all the gas out of the tank in one way. He would find what he was looking for. He was sure of it. But the night. This second night wore on and soon it was late. Early morning hours and the tank had been on empty the last dozen miles. He was surprised by how far he had gone. He was going to fuck up the engine if he kept pressing it. 

So he stopped.

He turned it off. He pulled his sleeping bag free and sat on his rucksack in the truck bed. His flashlight in hand. Turning it off and on to peruse what was around himself and his dog. Endless night. Stamped over the dusty dead desert. He had to stop doing that as well. He would run out of battery for the flashlight. If he didn't have the flashlight. If the car died too… Well. He hated to even think about it. 

Him and Stevie waited in the back of the pickup. Watching the stars meander above on another moonless night. 

“This isn’t right,” He said. To himself and to his dog. To anyone that might hear him. But no one was around. Not for miles. Not for years. 

He laid back in those early morning hours. Feeling like he was a little boy again. Curled up in his bed as his father screamed at his mom, getting ready to belt him. He felt as helpless as he did then. Or when he was curled up holding on to Stephen in that foxhole. Keeping each other warm in Bastogne. Knowing a mortar would end them both if it only got lucky. 

He wished he was here now. He wished he hadn't called him a fairy when he got too close. He remembered how warm he was. Then he remembered how the next day after that a mortar blew his legs off. Dave knew he took his own life years back. He never even thought about reaching out. He would have done anything to have him back, to have him here now. To be back in that foxhole. At least they would have each other. Now he only had an old dog to keep him warm. The dog still wouldn’t settle. He would peer up and over the ridge of the truck bed. Whining to himself. 

“Stop,” Dave said as he slapped his dog on the hide. “Please stop,” He said again as his eyes started to water in the cold desert air. He was so cold even in his sleeping bag. He was so tired even for supposedly having slept a whole day away. But his dog didn’t heed. He grew more and more unsettled. Looking at something. 

Dave knew it. He could feel it. Like all the hellish hours before. They were being watched. For real this time. But he didn’t dare move. He didn’t dare budge. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to shine his flashlight out there and see the glowing eyes of a mountain lion or the circling coyotes. Or something worse. 

Stevie whined louder. 

He held back tears and a trembling lip. His body was so racked with fear he could hardly move. He just wanted to be home. To see his wife, to apologize. To hold his little girl. He would never get behind the wheel again. Stevie tucked his tail between his legs and curled up. He was shaking like a leaf. Dave could feel it. 

He took a deep staggering breath. Sitting up in the dark and freeing himself from his bag. He leaned over the side peering around. His hands were as shaky as Stevie and he wished he had a gun. Why hadn’t he kept a gun with him all these years? He was disgusted with them but now he would kill for one. At least he could use it on himself so the enemy wouldn't get him. 

If he had a gun right now that’s what he’d do, he was sure of it. Anything to get him out of this pitch dark nothingness. To get him away from whatever was out there. Whatever he heard dragging itself through the rocks around them. He couldn’t see past the radius of the truck. It was like they floated on the river styx. Twisted souls were settling around them. 

There was only one thing to do.

The flashlight steadied his hands. He held it to his heart like a crucifix. He wasn’t strong enough to turn it on. His brain was screaming at him. To see what was out there, so they could run from it. He was too terrified, just the sight of it might unravel him. It could usher it forward like a banshee. Out there were the soldiers he had killed. They were ready to draw his guts out of him. He knew. He knew. 

But some survival portion of his being flicked the flashlight on. The beam screamed out into the pitch black night. The dying batteries shed their sputtering light onto the road and past it. Where Stevie had been staring. 

Behind a brush it stirred. Hiding from the light. A sickly sallow figure. All skin and ribcage. Like a skinless wolf that walked on two legs. And its eyes. It had too many. Or that’s what he thought. He wasn’t sure. The flashlight now drained of power faded. He lost sight of whatever he had seen. The flashlight cluttered the trunk bed. Rolling to join the empty bottles. He heard it hiss and scrape across the road. Shambling at him. Or was that it’s roar? It sounded like screaming static. Dave stumbled and dove through the back window. Pulling his legs through as the truck rocked back and forth. Was that from his movement or was the thing on him. Swiping at him? He couldn’t see five feet out his windows. He turned the keys still in the ignition and the truck roared to life. 

“Come on Stevie!” He shouted for the dog to follow. 

He spun the wheels and the car found pavement loosing up a trail of dirt. He laughed in a long relief. Reaching back to pull his dog forward. To join him on the bench. 

“Stevie!” He hollered. Reaching to find his muzzle or loose skin on his neck to pull the old dog forward. 

He turned back and squinted into the bed. He saw his sleeping back curled up at the rear. His rucksack tumbled with the empty bottles to the side. But Stevie was nowhere in sight. 

Did he jump free? Was he back there by the side of the road? With that thing… Dave was almost completely turned around scanning the bed for him. Bright lights filled his car suddenly. Then he saw clearly that Stevie was gone. As he turned his head he saw, careening at him, a large truck coming around a bend. It blew a train whistle horn that chattered his teeth. Dave cursed and twisted the wheel to get back into his lane. The truck turned and squealed as its tires tried to do as they were told. 

Squeaking wheels and burning rubber sprouted up around him. Dave was spinning around and around. Clenching his whole body and hoping that he wouldn’t flip. The wheels found the side of the road and coughed up debris as they rolled over brush. The truck was screaming past him. Not even slowing down. It disappeared around the bend almost as soon as it appeared. Dave hadn’t even regained control of the car. He didn’t flip however, instead he slowed and wheeled it across and back into the road as it sputtered on the pavement again. Both of his feet were stomping on the brakes. It stalled out the car. Rubber smoke filled the cab as he finally came to rest. 

His heart was pounding. Stevie gone. He started up the car and prayed the engine would turn over. Agonizing seconds passed as the truck coughed and found the last bits of fuel left. It roared to life. He had to go back for Stevie. He didn’t care if some beast was waiting for him. He hadn’t seen it well. It could be anything. Maybe just some deer with mange or something. 

He pulled around but stopped. Was this the way he came from? He had skidded and turned around so many times. He pulled the car in a circle looking for skid marks with his headlights. Looking to back track. But he found nothing but gray and cracking asphalt. Clean of any marring. 

That couldn’t be. He had smelled the rubber. He almost popped a tire avoiding the... 

The truck. 

It was the only person he had seen in days. He had to follow it. To catch up to it. To get help. It was going the same way Stevie would be at. Or what was left of the poor dog. Dave looked in both directions. He was disoriented. He had to find the truck, it was the only hope he had of getting help.

Had it come around that bend or the other way? He pulled the car in another circle. 

It was this way he decided and floored it. But as he got a mile down it didn’t feel right, he saw nothing ahead of him, so he turned away and floored it in the other direction. The odometer had stopped. Maybe it had broken during the maneuvering… It read 33,426 and was half clicked over to the seven. He looked at his watch. Trying to listen to it over the wind whipping behind him. It was broken too, smashed. The hands still. 

 Dave must have cracked it while crawling through that window. His fist was in a nice bout of pain. It was okay. He would follow the truck. He would find his dog on the side of the road. He just had to find the red taillights of the eighteen wheeler. He was going the right way. It had to be the right way. There was no other way. 

He wiped his face of the tears. But they just came stronger. They wracked his body as he fled down this desert highway. Not knowing what road he was truly on. His gas tank was surely empty but still the truck pressed forward. He tried to breath through ragged gasps. Alone now. 

Truly. 

He would do anything to get home. He’d leave Stevie if he just glimpsed those red brake lights. He’d leave him behind in a heartbeat. The dog was out in the dirt now. Vanished. Like the woman. He knew it. Dave didn't want the same for him. He just had to find those tail lights winding through the hillside. He would come around a bend and that’s where they would be. He wiped his face some more. The tears from his eyes made everything even more blurry. 

He turned on the radio and flipped through the static. Looking for those voices that called to him earlier. Nothing.

“I promise iIl do anything! I promise I’ll get home and I'll be a good husband. I won’t ever take her for granted. I won’t for Tiffany, neither!” He cried. “I love them. I love them so damn dearly. Just let me get home! I’ll be the best father, I promise! I’ll be the best husband. I’ll make it right. I’ll make it all right.” He pleaded. “I’ll be anything you want me to be, just tell me. Just let me get home! Damn it please!” He called out banging on the radio. “Talk to me!” He shouted as snot hung from his face. The radio static just grew as he turned the volume up more. Nothing else. 

He took deep breaths letting it play in the background. He wouldn't dare turn it off again. Then he wiped himself clean. The tears diminished to nothing. He steeled himself and hummed that song he heard from earlier. Humming it under his breath while listening to static. All the while looking out into the bleak night ahead. He was a pinpoint of white amongst an endless canvas of black. His headlights cut swathes away of the inky cloth around him. Yet, he still saw very little.