Wandering Highway: A Desperate Journey Home

by Ike Warren

  Chapter 9: Gunshots

  Something moved within a cluster of trees beside the highway. In an instant they saw a blur of brown fur as an animal leapt out of the woods and stood in the middle of the road. It was a deer and it bent its neck down and sniffed the hot asphalt and then rose its head back up and looked around. It was lean and muscular and it had a line of scars that ran down the side of its back from an encounter with large cat or perhaps a car. The deer turned its neck from side to side as it stared at the various objects and people along the roadway. Allan found himself gazing at the animal, full of awe, when he began to feel the presence of someone else behind him. He turned and saw a wide eyed man with long hair walking behind him and staring at them.

  “See that deer, man, that walked onto the highway, unafraid, as if mindful of all that has transpired?” The man spoke in an erratic tone and Allan figured that he was probably high on drugs. “The deer looks completely at home here. The stalled cars on the highway no longer pose a danger to him and he is free just as he would be in a forest or in a field.” The man walked closer and pointed angrily at Allan and continued, “And then there is man who spends his days working in confined offices, far away from his family. Toiling for hours in places that he doesn’t like because he must provide the luxuries that society demands of him. Man is a slave to his comforts and entertainment and on any other day we might have looked upon this deer as a lesser species. We were wrong, man. It is man, with his active mind and unquenchable thirst for money and power and entertainment that is the lesser species. Foolish man and his foolish ways! Toiling for things that he thinks will bring him happiness but it is only sadness that he receives. And here our paths meet, man and beast, and man been stripped of his chains of society and now we are one with the beast out here on this road.”

  “If you don’t get away from us I’m going to punch you in the face.” Allan warned with a clinched fist.

  “Take a chill pill man. All I’m saying is most schools of thought believe that the way to attain real awakening is to cease all thought. Stop thinking and then you become one with God! Does that mean, therefore, that humans are inferior to all the other animals that have clearly already achieved this level of thinking?” The man put his hands up as if praying to the sky. “The human curse of intelligence! Perhaps we are on the trailing edge of evolution with our large, cumbersome brains and all its thought capacity, mere hindrances to the path of enlightenment.” He gave Allan a look to suggest that he consider his drug induced epiphany.

  Allan clenched his fist tighter and pulled it back behind his shoulder and gave the man a final warning. The man pulled his hands out of the sky and held them in front of him. “Be cool man. Be cool.” He said as he backed away.

  Allan tugged at Jennifer to get away from the lunatic but there was something about the man in his frantic delusion that Jennifer found interesting. She watched the man as he walked away confronting other strangers along the road.

  “I do believe that man is insane.” Allan commented.

  Jennifer turned to him and smiled, “Either that, or he is a poet.”

  Allan gave her a strange look and they pushed on. As they walked the soreness in his legs began to dissipate. At least that's what Allan tried to convince himself of. In reality the soreness just became less noticeable compared to the increasing pain inside his shoes. The loose skin around the blisters on his feet had broken and the liquid inside the blisters had begun to ooze. On the back of his right heel the skin had rubbed completely off and so the soreness in his legs became just an afterthought. As he walked he tried stepping in varying positions in an effort to find a comfortable stride. He tried bowing he legs out and walking on the sides of his feet but that only made the sides of his feet hurt. He tried keeping his heels in the air by walking on his toes but his toes quickly began to cramp up. He tried walking on the blistered heels themselves but that just increased his level of pain.

  Jennifer busted out laughing as she observed the odd way in which he was walking, "What in God's name are you doing?"

  "My feet hurt."

  "Just walk normal. People are staring at you."

  Allan looked around. People were staring at him. He supposed that he had been walking rather goofy for quite a long time. "You don't understand how bad my feet hurt." He complained. "What I wouldn't give for some moleskin right now."

  Jennifer stopped. "Some what?" She looked at him like he had said the silliest thing ever.

  "You've never heard of moleskin?"

  "As in the skin off of moles? Uh no."

  Allan cleared his throat, raised his chin in the air and playfully spoke scholarly, "Moleskin, my dear, is a cotton fabric that can be affixed to a blister to prevent friction."

  "Why didn't you just say cotton fabric?"

  "Because it is called moleskin."

  "Well we don't have any moleskin. Why don't we just stop talking about it and walk normal?"

  Allan waved his hand in front of her as if to escort her forward. He felt victorious in the conversation but maybe she was right. If all it is was cotton fabric, then any cotton fabric should do right?

  Jennifer stopped again. "Aren't you wearing cotton socks?" It was as if she were reading his mind.

  "Yes I am." He lowered his chin to prepare for the rebuttal that was about to spew from her mouth.

  "Then why do you think moleskin, a cotton fabric, would do you any better than your cotton socks?" She asked.

  He didn't know. He thought it might have something to do with an adhesive backing that attached to the skin prevent rubbing but he wasn't sure as he had never actually purchased and tried the product out. "Why don't we just stop talking about it and walk?" He suggested. Jennifer swiped her arm in front of her as if escorting him forward and together they walked, both unsure as to who had actually won the verbal exchange.

  Suddenly they heard a loud explosion echo from the highway behind them. They turned to see what it was and they heard another explosion followed by the clatter of what sounded like a car engine that was very out of tune. They heard another bang and in the distance they could see movement among the stalled cars on the road.

  “What is that?” Jennifer asked.

  “It sounds like a car.” Allan replied.

  “You think they figured out how to get one running?” Jennifer asked with excitement.

  A car came into view as it rounded a stalled eighteen wheeler that had jackknifed in the middle of the road. The car was a restored 1955 Chevrolet Bel Air with a teal blue and white paintjob. Both front fenders were buckled in and the front bumper and hood were bent up so high that Allan wondered how the driver was even able to see above the hood. Then engine was rattling loudly and there was white smoke emitting from the location of the radiator that appeared to be caved in. The old car approached a group of stalled cars along the road that were lined up like a police barricade but the driver of the Bel Air punched the gas and blew right through it with an enormous crash. The car bucked like a rodeo bronco as it heaved forward through the wreckage.

  “Jesus Christ!” Allan yelled as he grabbed Jennifer and they ran to get off the road and out of the way.

  Amazingly the car kept going and it approached another stalled car which it subsequently slammed into the back of and pushed it out of the way.

  “That car is a freaking tank!” Jennifer exclaimed.

  Suddenly there was a commotion on the other side of the concrete highway embankment. A group of by people had taken notice of the car and one of them yelled, “Stop right there!” but the car only continued lurching forward. One of the men on the other side of the highway ran over to the concrete barrier wall and jumped over it. As he was leaping over to the other side Allan could see a black pistol in the man’s right hand. The car was practically next to the gunman who yelled, “I said stop the car!” But the car just sped ahead.

  The man raised the gun and aimed at the car. Allan screamed, “Get down!” and he and Jennifer buried their heads in the
grass just as the bullets started flying. There was another loud crash that sounded like it was directly on top of them and then all was still. Without the sounds of the car crashing into other stalled cars on the highway and without the loud eruptions of gunshots the world became incredibly silent all except the muffled hum of an out of tune motor. Allan slowly looked up and saw the teal blue car with its pearl white rear fender idling roughly against another car right in front of them. Behind the car was the gunman still posed in a shooting stance.

  “Stay back!” The gunman ordered to everyone around. Allan watched as the gunman slowly approached the car and he could see the driver inside the car was slumped over behind the steering wheel.

  As the gunman got closer he lowered his weapon and began to shout at the driver. “Man I told you to stop the car but you wouldn’t listen!” He looked over towards Allan and Jennifer and continued, “Yall heard me tell him to stop didn’t yall?” He opened the driver’s side door and the man inside slumped out onto the pavement. The gunman took the driver’s seat and closed the car door. He revved the engine a couple of times and smoke billowed from the radiator like an old steam train. He put the car in reverse and backed away from the car that it had wrecked into and then drove off down the highway just as the previous driver had done, crashing into and pushing stalled cars out of its way.

  Jennifer jumped up and ran over to the wounded man who was lying motionless on the pavement. He had streaks of blood coming out both sides of his mouth and he was panting for air.

  “Wasn’t even my car.” The man whispered as Jennifer looked over his wounded body.

  “Where did you get it from?” Allan asked, both trying to take the man’s mind off his injuries and deeply intrigued as to how he found a running vehicle.

  “Found it in some dude’s garage.” His breathing was suddenly becoming very raspy. “I had to kill him to get it. I guess what goes around…” With that he looked up to the sky and his eyes glossed over and he was dead.

  Allan wrapped Jennifer into his arms and led her away from the scene of the murder.

  When they had walked about a mile Jennifer spoke up, “I don’t understand it. He said he found the car in some man’s garage. What’s special about some garage that allowed the car to run when nothing else does?”

  “I don’t think it was so much the garage, but more the car. That was a 1950’s era car. A ’55 Bel Air to be exact. My grandfather use to have one kinda like it. And you’re right, those things are built like tanks. They don’t have any of the bells and whistles that modern cars have and that’s probably what saved it.”

  “What saved it?”

  “No computers, no sensitive electronics, no sensors. Just leather and rubber and metal.”

  “I wish we could find one like that.” Jennifer said and then she realized what she was saying and corrected herself. “Though I guess it’s better that we didn’t. We’d probably end up like the man who got shot for it.”

  Chapter 10: Separation

  Jennifer’s cramps began as on and off again waves of sharp discomfort in her lower abdomen. With each cramp Jennifer would wince and clutch her bulging stomach but she kept walking and praying that the pain would dissipate and go away. She had tried to hide her reaction to the pain from Allan but by the fifth wave of cramps he became aware of it and looked down and saw her wincing.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked her.

  “I don’t know.” Jennifer replied.

  “Is it the baby?” He asked, terrified of how she might respond. Please don’t let her say yes. He thought.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Does it feel like contractions?”

  “I think it’s just cramps from walking too much in this heat.”

  Allan stopped and looked at her seriously, “If that’s what is wrong then wouldn’t it be your legs that are cramping instead of your stomach?”

  Jennifer remained quiet with her head down as she rubbed her hands around her aching stomach. “I don’t know.” She replied.

  “We should stop and rest a while.”

  “No.” Jennifer said as she reached out and touched Allan’s arm in a way that demanded that he cease any further thought of delaying their journey home. She looked up at him and he saw that her eyes were moist from where she had strained them shut while wincing in pain. “I’ll be alright. Maybe I just need some water.”

  Water. Allan thought. We haven’t had anything to eat or drink in far too long. That’s all it is. Jennifer just needs something to drink. It’s not labor contractions. It can’t be. Not here. Not now.

  “What if you rest here while I go look for water?” Allan suggested.

  “I don’t want to stop and I don’t want to split up.”

  “I know, but you’ve got to rest for a little bit and we’ve got to get some water into you. We can accomplish both if you rest here while I go get water. We’ll save time.”

  Jennifer continued to look down, hiding the grimace on her face from another cramp and she nodded her head and said, “Ok.”

  Allan grabbed her hand and led her to the side of the road and helped her sit down under a tree at the top of the slope of the grassy highway median. He removed the backpack that contained Jennifer’s purse with the screwdriver and his keys and wallet inside and set it down beside her. Jennifer watched him leave and she refused to take her eyes off of him as his image grew smaller and smaller as he walked away, feeling that as long as she could see him then she would not be alone. As he walked further she squinted and held his silhouette in her gaze until another cramp enveloped her and she was forced to look away. When the pain had subsided she looked back to where she had last seen him but as she expected he was gone.

  What is this pain? Is my baby dying? Will we ever make it home to Samantha? The fear and questions raced through her mind so fast. She found that the only way that she could process it all was to let it all out and cry and so she sat on the grassy slope of the highway with her body rocking back and forth as it wept.

  A man and a woman were walking by when they saw her crying. The woman knelt down beside Jennifer. “What’s wrong my dear?” She asked.

  Jennifer was startled at the presence of the woman that she had not noticed kneeling beside her. “I’m sorry.” Jennifer apologized and she wiped the tears off her cheeks with the palms of her hands. The sweaty tears embedded into her torn hands which felt like needles in her skin but she ignored the pain. “I’m just upset.” She explained.

  The woman leaned closer to Jennifer and put her arm around her back. “What are you upset about my dear?”

  Jennifer felt uncomfortable with the woman beside her and she wished that Allan was there. If Allan was there they would have never approached her. That’s how it always was. If she was at a store by herself, other men, strangers and acquaintances alike, would always come up to her and strike up conversations with her but if Allan were with her no one ever approach her. Allan was a nice approachable guy, but there was something powerful about his presence that made strangers keep their distance. “My husband’s gone to get water. He’ll be right back.” Jennifer said, hoping that just mentioning Allan would have the same effect. The woman looked up and her male companion and they nodded to one another.

  “We have some water. Actually we have better than water. We have some Gatorade.” The woman smiled.

  Jennifer perked up and looked at the woman’s face for the first time. She had a scar that ran down the side of her left cheek and greasy, knotted brown hair. There were odd looking sores scattered around her skin and on any regular day Jennifer might have thought that the woman was a meth head or some other drug addict but this was not a regular day and under the circumstances who was she to judge? For all Jennifer knew she looked just as bad or worse.

  “We have some Gatorade in our truck right over there.” The woman twitched as she pointed towards a rusty mid 90’s Chevrolet truck with its front end smashed in. The hood of the truck was a different color from the passeng
er side door which was a different color from the body and the appearance of it made Jennifer think that if they hadn’t driven past that very spot on the highway two days earlier she would have thought that the old truck had been parked there on the side of the road decomposing for over a decade.

  “Come on, I’ll help you up.” Said the woman.

  Jennifer felt another wave of pain approaching and all she could think of was the refreshing liquid.

  The woman extended a sweaty hand out and Jennifer took it and rose to her feet. She reached down and grabbed her backpack and followed the strangers. Questions began to race through her mind as they began walking towards the truck. Why did I get up? Why would they have left Gatorade back at their truck? Is that even their truck? Do they even have Gatorade? The cramp intensified and a wave of pain rolled over her and Jennifer clutched her stomach as all the remaining thoughts were drowned out except for one. I have to save my baby.

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  A quarter of a mile from where he left Jennifer beside the road, Allan saw that a group of people had formed a line out the front doors of a church building that sat next to the highway. As Allan approached the church he heard a man at the front door greeting people and instructing “One glass of water per person. Move along please.”

  Allan quickly took his place in the line and he was surprised to see that the line was moving rather swiftly. When he got to the church doors and greeted the man out front he looked inside and understood why. Members of the church congregation had setup an assembly line of sorts for handing out water in the most orderly fashion imaginable. They had setup five water coolers side by side next to a long dining table in the foyer of the church where two members of the congregation sat. The person sitting at the table closest to the front doors was a plump grandmotherly looking woman who stamped Allan’s hand with a rubber stamper which upon inspection Allan saw that it was a stamp in brown ink with the image of Jesus kneeling and praying to the heavens.