A Ghost of Fire
Page 39
***
The road hummed a monotonous dirge under the tires of the car as we journeyed the final leg of the trip. The melancholy music of the pavement was the undesired perfect soundtrack of the moment. All the weight of what might or might not be coming down the pipe threatened to crush the hearts and spirits of everyone in the car. No one said anything.
It was past midnight and the streets were sparsely populated save for the few late shifters and night owls prowling the dark to score the hit of whatever addictions drove their insomnia—everything from cheap tacos to drugs. All these were the petty backdrop of the stage we had stepped onto. The actors were about to take their places, the curtains would withdraw and the lights would shine. What would be seen, I wondered?
Identical street lamps whizzed by, the silent giant guardians overlooking their paved world. Ahead and to the right lights caught my attention and I decided on one final detour. It would be short, minutes only but it would support our preparation for the encroaching encounter at Spectra. I pulled the car next to the gas station fuel pumps and killed the engine.
Katie who sat in the front passenger seat leaned over and checked the fuel gauge. “What are we doing here? You’ve got three quarters of a tank and we’ve got other things to do.”
“I’ll just be a second,” I answered as I undid the seatbelt. “I’ve got to run in and get a few things.” I stepped out and trotted into the attached twenty-four hour convenience store. The bright lights assaulted my eyes and the mixed smells of gasoline from outside and bored sweaty employees inside gathered into that strange perfume which accompanied late night road trips all over the continental U.S.
I began my shopping spree and in short order gathered all the things I needed, among which was a gas can, matches, a handful of Snicker’s bars and four bottles of Pepsi. I deposited the items on the counter and waited for the short woman who guarded the cigarettes to ring up the order. I paid, took my things and exited.
I walked back to the car unlocked and opened the trunk. I dropped the box of matches in my pocket as I turned to the gas pump. I paid for gas and pumped it into the gas container which I then placed into the open trunk when the cap was secure and then closed the trunk. I carried the Pepsi and Snicker’s with me and got back into the car. I handed them out in turn to each of my passengers.
“What’s this for,” asked Trent. I started the car up and tore open the candy bar wrapper and took a bite. Then I twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swig of the sweet bubbly liquid.
“It’s no use fighting evil on an empty stomach,” I replied. Katie looked at the food, looked back at the other passengers, shrugged and began to open her candy wrapper. The others followed without further question. It became a sort of funny communion, a revised last supper. We all hoped it wouldn’t be too final.
When we had sat in the idling car long enough for me to finish the candy bar I put the vehicle into drive and we resumed our approach. We continued to move forward in silence, the only sounds were the music of the road and the occasional noise of someone chewing or sipping or crinkling a wrapper.
It was not a great distance from the hotel to the gas station to Spectra but dread and anticipation can lend eternal qualities to such temporal experiences. Finally it was Vox who broke the silence.
“How did I ever let you people talk me into this? Is this really what I’m doing tonight?” No one answered his complaint. No one had to. We had all come this far of our free will. No one held a gun to anyone’s head. In fact it struck me how several of us had been given opportunity to walk away at points previous, including Vox, and still we had come together and to the same path. I knew that his protest was really the last vestige of his dying doubt. Now belief stood alive and well in our midst.