End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1)

by E. J. Fechenda

  “I understand,” she said and stepped out of the car. “Come on kiddos.” She held her door open so Teddy and Sara could scurry out from the backseat.

  It took ten minutes to walk to the light rail line and another twenty for a trolley to arrive. Fortunately, the rail line ran along Central and a Texaco was only five miles down the line.

  I paid the deposit on a can, bought five gallons of gas and returned home less than two hours later. The car sputtered to life after putting fuel in the tank. Helen gathered the children and we drove downtown.

  After parking, our first task was calling our families in Boston. Helen’s father’s phone was disconnected. I had better luck with my parents. When we told them of our plans to move back after the government job, they were thrilled, but also worried.

  “It’s a long drive, Lawrence,” my father cautioned.

  “I know, but we want to come home. It’s so different out here.”

  “We want you home too, just please be careful and phone us when you get to Flagstaff.”

  I promised and we said our goodbyes. Helen took the kids to the store while I went to pay the electric bill and return the gas can. I also stopped in at the barber and splurged on a haircut.

  When I arrived at the grocery store, Helen was waiting outside with the children, but she didn’t have any bags of groceries with her.

  “They heard you came into some money. We need to pay off our balance for the store credit before I can buy anything else,” she explained.

  Phoenix may be the largest city in the state, but gossip spread like it was a small town. Obviously my supposed windfall had become news.

  “No, we’ll make good on our debt. The Albertson’s have been kind extending credit to us. Let’s go.”

  A bell over the door signaled our entrance. I handed Helen a dollar and told her to treat her and the kids to a milkshake at the counter. I strode over to the owner, Sam Albertson, and squared up what we owed. Before I went to join them, I stopped and observed Helen and the kids. They were laughing, Sara had ice cream on her nose and Teddy was sticking his tongue out at her. I marveled at how happy and ordinary this scene appeared to be and wished we could have an outing like this every day. When Helen was finished with her shake I stayed with the children while she shopped. There was a cribbage board at the counter and I took turns playing them. Most of our debts were paid, the only major one being our mortgage, yet this didn’t do much to quell the gnawing sense of failure. Perhaps it was my occupation, or just my own ethics, but guilt consumed me when I thought about the impending foreclosure.

  ***

  The following week went by fast. We were busy packing and selling items we couldn’t bring with us. The extra money, even if it didn’t amount to much, would help pay for our fresh start. The issue of Sally still existed. Despite asking around no one was interested in buying an old mare, save for one person - Mr. Albertson. The grocery store owner was willing to give me five dollars for her and that was practically giving her away – the saddle was worth more than that amount. By the end of the week though, I was beginning to reconsider. She cost a small fortune in feed and had destroyed our garden. The smell of manure was constant and Helen wasn’t thrilled about the increase in the fly population either.

  Despite Teddy and Sara’s protests, the day before we were set to leave, I rode Sally into town and dropped her off with Mr. Albertson. He threw in an extra $2.00 for the saddle. One thing about the Depression, if you had the money, great bargains could be had.

  That night Helen and I sat at the kitchen table and plotted our course. We debated over which route to take. I insisted that we take the county road that went up past Black Canyon City, although not a well-traveled road, it was more direct than the more popular US 89 which would take us west through Wickenburg and then north.

  “What if something happens to the car? There isn’t a lot of traffic on that road.”

  “The car is less than six years old, it’ll be fine.”

  Helen acquiesced and agreed less time on the road would be easier for the kids.

  “Where will we stay once we get to Flagstaff? We can’t all live at the worker’s camp.”

  “We’ll find a room or two to rent. I’m sure people are taking in boarders up there as they are down here.”

  “Are we making the right decision?” Helen asked. Her face was pinched with worry. Ash gray shadows circled her eyes.

  “Yes,” I answered and kissed her cheek. Had I known how wrong I was, we would have stayed in Phoenix.

  Chapter Five

  We set out early the next morning, just as the sun began to lighten the horizon. A small, wooden trailer held furniture, the bulk of our belongings and extra cans of gas. Teddy and Sara each brought a pillow, some books and a few toys to keep them occupied. With the extra weight we were towing, I approximated that the trip would take around six hours. With a little bit of luck, we’d be in Flagstaff right around noon just as the heat of the July day began its peak.

  Progress was slow and as the incline increased, the car shuddered with each rotation of the tires over unpaved road. We saw a few cars at first, but hadn’t seen any once we passed Black Canyon City. Just a few miles over the border into Yavapai County, a loud pop, like the release of a champagne cork, sounded from underneath the hood. Steam came billowing out so I pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. The engine exhaled a high-pitched whine and shut down.

  Everyone was momentarily silent. My mechanical abilities were limited to putting gas in the car and they knew it.

  “Well, I better go take a look,” I said and stepped out of the car. Even though it was still morning, the sun had already baked the earth and threatened to turn rocks into lava. It took a few minutes to lift the hood, but I didn’t need to be a mechanic to know we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Steam fogged my glasses and I had to remove them in order to see the problem. A crack ran down the side of the radiator, spewing forth steam like a geyser.

  Helen walked up behind me and peered over my shoulder.

  “Do you know what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I sighed and backed out of the steam. Sweat dripped down my neck, dampening my shirt collar.

  “Can you fix it?”

  “No.” I sat down on the fender that curled over the driver’s side front tire and stared out at the horizon.

  “Oh.”

  She stood next to me for a few minutes. “Well someone is bound to come along. We’ll ask them for help.”

  “Why don’t you go check on the kids?” I needed to be alone. The one negative I neglected to tell Helen about this route was that hardly anyone used it, especially since 89 had been recently paved. The occasional rancher used this road when checking on his cattle. As the sun beat down on my back I prayed for traffic.

  The heat became unbearable and I went back to the shade the interior of the car provided.

  “Daddy, I’m thirsty,” Sara whined.

  “Drink some water.”

  “There isn’t any left.” Helen said. Her words were clipped. She was annoyed.

  “What do you mean? We have two Thermos’ full.”

  “When I came back to the car, Sara and Teddy were fighting. They knocked one of the bottles over and all of the water spilled out.”

  “What about the other bottle?”

  “They drank that already. We don’t have anything else to drink.”

  The cracked radiator had just been replaced by a more serious situation. We had planned on a six hour drive. The water we brought would have been enough.

  An hour passed, maybe two. I kept glancing at my wrist, forgetting my watch was gone. The interior of the car became increasingly warmer. Our Ford was essentially a black metal box and a magnet for the suns’ rays. The children had dozed off and Helen shifted in her seat to check on them. I turned too and saw how flushed their cheeks were. Their hair, damp with perspiration, clung to their scalps.

  “We can’t stay here all day,” Helen whispered
. Her face was pinched, the crease in between her eyes more pronounced. Panic threatened to take over, she had the same expression during an asthma attack when it turned from manageable to life threatening.

  “Someone will pass by soon.” I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  Another hour passed.

  “Mommy, I don’t feel good,” Teddy said.

  “Do you want to sit with me?”

  He nodded and Helen got out so Teddy could climb in between us. The moment he stood outside the car, he vomited. When he finished, he fell against Helen and cried. I ran around to help and scooped him up in my arms. There weren’t any trees large enough to provide shade, so I sat down on the ground in the shade created by the car. Teddy had stopped sweating, but his face remained an alarming shade of red.

  “I think it’s cooler out here. I’ll get Sara,” Helen said.

  Teddy had fallen back asleep and I removed his shirt to help him cool down. Helen came around the car with Sara in her arms. She took my lead and removed Sara’s dress.

  “We need water, she’s burning up.”

  I placed my hand on Sara’s forehead and couldn’t believe how hot it was. It was hotter than when she had influenza three years earlier.

  “I’ll go see if there’s a stream nearby.”

  I walked out into the desert. Not a single building dotted the horizon. I found a watering hole for cattle, but the water was more mud and manure than anything. Dizziness overwhelmed me and I vomited onto the sand. I struggled to stay upright and fell onto my knees, just inches from where I had been ill. It took considerable effort to regain my footing and walk back to the car. Helen’s skin had taken on the same tomato red as Teddy and Sara’s cheeks. Her lips were white and dry, as if colored over with chalk. The children were lying down on either side of her asleep.

  “Any cars pass by?”

  Helen shook her head no, the motion was slow and deliberate and I imagined it took her as much effort to move her head as it took for me to get up off the ground.

  “I didn’t find any water either.” I sunk down next to her and rested my head against the side of the car. The sun was almost overhead and our shade was shrinking.

  “We need to move back into the car,” I told Helen. She slowly stood up, holding onto the door handle for support. Her breathing was shallow and I feared an asthma attack was imminent. “I’ll get the children Helen, you relax.”

  I bent down to wake Teddy, but he was slow to respond. “Teddy,” I said and shook him slightly. He rolled over onto his back and his arms flailed open. “Teddy?” I kneeled closer and noticed his chest wasn’t moving.

  “What’s wrong?” Helen asked, but I didn’t answer.

  “Teddy!” I yelled and picked him up. His body was limp in my arms. I held him against me and tried to breathe life into his lungs, but it was too late. He was gone.

  “No!” Helen wailed and tried to pull him away from me, I held on tight. Her hands fluttered over Teddy, not sure where or how to administer healing.

  Suddenly I became vaguely aware of movement to the right of us, which was accompanied by a loud hiccupping sound. I turned my head to see Sara flailing on the ground in a fit. Saliva tinged a sickly yellow from bile foamed out of her mouth and her eyes were rolled up in her head. Just a half circle of hazel could be seen in the whites.

  Helen crawled over and tried to still her. Sara’s head cracked against the hard dirt repeatedly and finally the seizure released its grip. Sara remained motionless and Helen hovered over her; her lips moving in silent prayer as she brushed loose curls away from Sara’s face. Helen’s body shuddered and she stared at me. The panic seen on her face earlier had been replaced with sorrow. Dark smudges under her eyes clashed with red cheeks; a mask of unimaginable pain.

  We were so far gone that we couldn’t produce tears. We just wailed and held onto one another in our grief. Mad from the heat and our loss I pulled out our pistol from the glove compartment. Helen looked at it then up at me and she nodded in understanding. We leaned towards each other until our foreheads were touching. She exhaled, but it was just a whisper of breath.

  “I love you, Helen. Thank you for sharing your life with me.” I sat back slightly and kissed her dry lips.

  “I love you too, Lawrence.” She reached for my hand holding the gun and raised it to her temple. I stared at her, silently questioning and she nodded again, harder this time, more absolute. “Please,” she pleaded and a stray tear spilled down her cheek.

  The blast from the shot rippled out across the desert. Helen slumped sideways, life faded from her eyes until there was nothing left. I scooped her up with what remained of my strength and lay her next to our children.

  Taking my place beside her, I shot myself.

  * * *

  Darkness surrounded me which gradually faded and I found myself standing by the car. I could see my body, a crumpled heap next to my beloved family. Confused, I walked over and tried to wake myself, but my hands moved right through anything I attempted to touch. That’s when I realized I was no longer alive. I also realized my family had passed on and left me behind.

  Chapter Six

  The hardest part about our deaths was that if we held out just a little bit longer, we might have been saved. The sun was still high in the cloudless blue sky when a dusty green pick-up truck pulled up behind our car. A wrinkled old rancher walked around the side on bowed legs and made the horrible discovery. He took his cowboy hat off and held it over his chest, dipping his head in silent prayer. I lowered mine and waited to cross over with this final blessing. Nothing happened.

  He closed my eyes and went back to his truck. He returned with a tarp and draped it over our bodies. He left, but came back with help as the day was drawing to a close and shadows were growing longer. A sheriff’s deputy took notes in a small black book. The silver star on his black suede vest shone in the fading sunlight, reflecting orange hues. He stood next to me, unaware of my presence and I watched as, one by one, our bodies were loaded into the bed of the old rancher’s Chevy. Many tears were shed when Sara and Teddy were lifted up off the ground. They cradled them as children deserved to be cradled and the tears left tracks on dusty faces. Grown men who battled to tame a wild countryside under brutal conditions were moved by our fate.

  The deputy helped load our belongings into the back of his Studebaker and onto another truck. By dusk everyone was gone and only our car remained. I hovered around, unsure what to do.

  About a week later our car was towed away. Then it was just me. There were many times in my life where I wished for a few moments of peace and quiet. I soon realized that too much can drive a person insane - if I was still considered a person. I gave up on tracking days and moved on to the seasons, eventually I lost track of time in general. It didn’t matter anymore. The highway grew, road crews slaved away under the relentless sun, unaware of my presence. The spot where my family died was paved over with asphalt.

  Cars changed and traffic increased. There were accidents, but if anyone died, they didn’t get stuck in limbo like me. I had a lot of time to reflect back on my life for any clues as to why I didn’t move on with my family.

  My childhood had been considered privileged and I rarely went without anything, but my family always gave back to our community. My father was a doctor and he impressed upon us how short life really is and not to squander it. We lived in Cambridge and it didn’t take long to reach the tenements and slums of Boston, where we spent Sunday afternoons serving food to those less fortunate than us.

  The desperation I saw in people’s eyes during the Depression was something these afternoons prepared me for, but being a provider and protector of my own family made the desperation seem even scarier.

  I had just finished my mid-term exams, during the spring of my third year at Boston College, and came home early. My father saw patients in his office, which was on the first floor of our home. His office door opened just as I was hanging my coat and hat on the rack. I glance
d over my shoulder and saw a woman of incomparable beauty walking towards me. Her fair skin showcased her large eyes, her brown hair hung in waves around a long, elegant neck. She smiled at me, her lightly freckled cheeks coloring slightly as she passed.

  “Helen Stanley is her name. You went to elementary school together,” my father told me after I had immediately gone to his office and inquired about his patient.

  “We did?” Surely I would have remembered, but I wasn’t so memorable back then either.

  The next time Helen had an appointment with my father, I made sure I was there. Soon we were courting and before long we were married.

  We set up a nice home in Arlington, a small town right outside of Boston where I worked for a small accounting firm. In March of 1925, less than a year after we were married, Teddy was born. Helen’s asthma, which my father had been treating her for, got worse and we had to consider serious alternatives. All the options failed except for one and the day after Helen’s most severe attack, we made the decision to move to Arizona.

  I’d led an uneventful life, one I tried to live honestly and fully. So why was I forced to remain here? The only answer I could come up with was that I failed my family. I was meant to protect them, instead I caused their deaths.

  An eternity of wandering this small section of highway alone stretched out ahead of me - until someone joined me.

  Chapter Seven

  Juanita Maria Esperanza

  b.1931 – d.1951

  A knock on the door woke me. I don’t know how long I sat at the table. Mariella was cutting a tooth and after being fussy all day had finally fallen asleep. Her head resting on my shoulder formed a sweaty bond. I slowly stood up, careful not to disturb her, and opened the door.

  It was late and just past the full moon – I could barely make out the shape of a man against the dark night sky.

  “Juanita Esperanza?” he asked.

  “Si.”