Along the Trail to Atchison (1160 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: one-part_stories
Rating: 1.75 on 43 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Stagger Lee (View user info) at 2006-03-12 23:54:11 EST
We've got about two more days to go on this road. Betty's looking frail and put-upon, as usual. Dust sticks to her makeup and catches in her hair. She complains about that, of course, so I tell her if she'd just close the goddamn window it wouldn't. There's just the two of us in the car and this fact is straining at my nerves.
"Look," she says. Well, not really says. She whines. "You know if I close the window it'll get too stuffy in here, and that'll make me sick. You know this. So why tell me to do it?"
I don't reply. If the window's open, she complains about dust. Closed, and she bitches about how stuffy it is.
We're in the middle of nowhere. Driving at a reasonable pace, though Betty keeps telling me to go faster. Naturally, if I go faster, she's gonna bitch that I can't handle the speed that I'm driving at. We haven't seen a building in about half an hour, something I never thought would happen. I mean, this is the modern world, right? Supposed to be all fibreglass wires and shit like that.
The only structures currently in sight are telegraph poles. They tag along the highway, forming a border of sorts. Beyond the expanse of the highway are some rolling hills and so on. Mostly dry, yellow grass and brush growing along here. It's just too hot for anything to be green and lush, so it all looks tired and sore. Somehow, Betty's harping along with the scenery is combining to give me a severe case of irritability. Big surprise there.
The outside of my car has grown filthy and this bugs me, as well. The inside's not much better, really; Betty throws her garbage anywhere she pleases. Currently she pleases to throw it in my back seat and on the floor on her side of the car. Cans, burger wrappers, paper bags. Disgusting. She always interfered with my sense of order. Probably contributed to the divorce. She doesn't wear her wedding ring any more, but I still do. Maybe that means something. I doubt it, though.
The reason I'm forced to drive her to Atchison is that her father is dying and she had no other way to get there. She couldn't afford to fly. She said she'd take a bus, but I wasn't gonna let that happen. I don't hate her enough yet to send her cross-country on a bus.
I spot something a little ways up the road. Any sort of distinguishing mark stands out in this landscape. Last time we saw a car was about an hour ago. This is some sort of black, misshapen mass just sitting by the side of the highway. I slowed to get a better look at it: it was a cow, lying on its side.
"What are you doing?" Betty asked. She has apparently not noticed the only remotely distinguished feature from here to the horizon.
"Getting a look at this cow," I said, "I think it's alive."
I'm right on that one, at least. The cow is alive. It's on its side, breathing heavily. Looks to be in some pain, and then I see why; it's gotten its leg tangled in barbed wire at some point. There aren't any fences in sight, so maybe it's been dragging the wire for a while.
I begin to accelerate again. Betty tugs my sleeve - something I always hated - and says, "Wait, you're not just going to leave it, are you?" I glance at her. The dust is really doing horrible things to that makeup of hers. Ten years ago, she didn't wear makeup. I miss how she was then, but then, I don't like who I was then. So maybe that's the trade-off.
"No, course not," I lie, and slow the car again and pull over to the side, as though that's what I intended all along.
I get out, and Betty follows suit. "Look," I say, "Hang back a second. I don't know if these things kick or not." I walk down the shoulder along the deserted highway, to the cow. It rolls an eye towards me. By my best guess it looks panicked and edgy. Have to do this carefully.
I'm struck by how much this cow makes me think of Betty's father, alone in a hospital in Atchison. Nobody to visit, because his wife's dead, he doesn't have any and Betty and I live days away from him. Just lying there, tubes sticking out of (or into) every orifice. I think of the last time that we went to visit, about three years ago. His breathing was bad then; I don't want to think about what it must be like now.
The cow attempts to move, but it's in too much pain. It struggles for a moment and then collapses on its side again. I bend down and stroke the cow between its eyes. It actually takes quite well to this, closing its eyes and making a noise not unlike a purr.
I think of Betty the last time we visited her father. How she wouldn't let go of is hand for anything. How I had to bring food to her, and how she even slept with one hand curled white-knuckled around his.
Focus. If you're gonna help the cow, help it. Attempting to move as calmly and smoothly as possible, I reach toward the barbed wire. As I lay my hand on the wire, the cow kicks. Luckily, it kicks only air. Its eyes land on me again, as if asking, why I was I hurting it more? I begin to pull the barbs from its flesh. The cow bellows and thrashes on the ground, and surprisingly, this helps: the first loop of wire springs free, leaving perhaps three twists embedded in its leg.
Gritting my teeth, I reach for the wire again.
It takes about ten more minutes. Blood is pooling in startlingly copious amounts on the shoulder of the highway, and the cow is eyeing me mistrustfully. It has ceased bellowing, but it hasn't attempted to rise yet. I'll just have to trust that it'll get up eventually. I've done all I can, anyway.
Betty says, "Is it going to get up?" She's moved a bit closer than I wanted her to.
I bite back a sarcastic retort. "I'm not sure," I say. "Maybe if it feels better. That's the best we can do, anyway." Betty looks at my hands, and I realise that there is cow blood all over them. "Ah, shit," I say, and head back to car. I reach carefully in through the window on Betty's side of the car and retrieve a burger wrapper to wipe the blood off. As I do so, I can't help but realise the irony; I'm wiping the blood of a cow I helped off with the wrapper from a burger that contained another cow.
"Come on," I say, "We've got ground to cover."
The sunset that evening is spectacular across the endless fields. We bed down in sleeping bags by the side of the road, as we've yet to come across a motel. Twice Betty tries to move over to me. Twice I push her away. She cries a little in the dark, and I wish I could comfort her, but it doesn't feel right to comfort her anymore. So I roll over and try to ignore her. Sleep comes with difficulty.
In the morning, as we pull out onto the highway I notice we're low on gas. This worries me, because I didn't see a gas station all yesterday. I point this out to Betty.
"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" she snaps. I don't think she slept much. In fact, I doubt she slept at all. Her eyes are puffy, but at least she's given up slapping on the foundation. Makeup doesn't make sense out here, under the blue arch of this empty sky.
"I don't know," I say, "Maybe, just maybe, look it up on the map. Which you have, you know. It might show where a gas station is. Shit, people have to get gas somewhere. How have we not seen anything this whole time?"
She mutters something I don't catch, and fumbles in the glove compartment for the map.
"What was that, dear?" I ask, in a mock-sweet voice.
"Nothing," she says. She's sulky because I pushed her away, I think. "And you don't get to call me dear anymore. That's part of the deal."
"Really? I could've sworn you said something."
"Nothing!" she shrieks, and yanks the map from the glove compartment. "Don't you dare fucking patronise me anymore!"
I fall silent. I was always silent in the face of her fury. She yells, I shut up. Law of nature.
So we pass a few miles in silence, silence that fairly crackles. Until she balls up the map and throws it into the mess of trash in her footwell. "I can't find anything," she says. "Either they're not marked or there aren't any."
"Oh, well, that's just perfect," I say.
"It's not my fault!" she says, and now I think sobs are breaking through the anger. She's almost on the verge of hysteria.
"I know, I know," I say, as soothingly as possible. "Look, I just meant that the situation was screwed up." I realise that I'm almost pleading. Pleading like I did when she told me she wanted a divorce. Hating myself, and hating her for making me do it.
I think of her dying father again, and I shudder. He asked me to kill him once. Just to put a pillow over his head and push. I never replied, just left the room. Some things you just have to step away from.
And then, like a miracle, a gas station with an attached cafe appears over a hill along the road ahead. Betty actually giggles and claps her hands like a schoolgirl. I punch the dashboard in victory.
We pull in, and I ease the car up next to the pump. It's a beat-up old place, with boarded windows. My heart sinks. We came to find the miracle was a mirage. But then I realise that the pump works; it's emitting a low hum. And the windows are boarded, but the door isn't. I all but leap from my car and start the fuel flowing. Betty grins at me, and I can't help but grin back.
I fill the tank and shut the pump off. I walk across the tarmac and to the door. The door is glass, and the place is quite dark within. I open the door and enter the building.
Something hard and cold presses into my side. I snap my head to side and see a man. He's perhaps thirty years old, with a weathered, bitter face. A scar like twisted wire creases his left cheek. He's holding a gun to my side. I'm speechless.
"Don't fucking move," he tells me, matter-of-factly. I don't.
My eyes adjust to the gloom. There are four other men inside the gas station apart from the one threatening me. One of them is tied to a chair. His face is bloody and beaten, and he has a swatch of duct tape across his mouth. The other three are surrounding him. Their knuckles are red with his blood.
"What are you doing here?" the man with the gun asks me.
I think of Betty, in the car, and of her father.
"Filling up," I say, and I manage, barely, to keep my voice from cracking. My eyes meet the eyes of the man in the chair. He's desperate and terrified. He tries to scream something to me, but of course the duct tape muffles it and all I can hear is some strangled nonsense. Then one of the men steps in and strikes him across the nose. His head rolls sickeningly and he shuts up.
"Get the fuck outta here," the man with the gun says. "We got no business with you."
Overcome with relief and disbelief in equal measure, I nod. I turn and leave.
"Are you okay?" Betty asks. There's real concern in her voice. I nod, mutely. "Are you sure?" she pesters. "You look...I don't know..."
I find my voice. "Yeah," I manage. "Everything's fine."
I get back in the car and start it. I just want to concentrate on getting to Atchison. Maybe you can outrun guilt and cowardice. I'm going to try, in any case.
Sometimes moving on is all you've got.
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Note: I have no idea where Atchison really is. If you live there or near to there, my apologies for the obscene geographical liberties taken in this story.
User Reviews
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2007-02-18 20:34:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-10-04 23:58:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
By the way, the missing word after "any" is obviously "friends".
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-10-04 23:57:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Wow, I was surprised to see this suddenly appear on MRR. Cheers Elvis.
Submitted by VelvetElvis (user info) at 2006-10-04 23:45:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm struck by how much this cow makes me think of Betty's father, alone in a hospital in Atchison. Nobody to visit, because his wife's dead, he doesn't have any and Betty and I live days away from him.
//
I like this.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-06-21 02:14:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't like you, but Orgasmatron does.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-29 02:05:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Like I said, please forgive me. I just got the place name from a Tom Waits song.
Submitted by devadasi (user info) at 2006-03-29 01:54:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Atchison is in Kansas
Highway 70 in Kansas is boring, but you can still find a gas station and a motel every night. Same with the other major and minor highways.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-29 01:29:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I think I will just take it, yeah. I like it n stuff. When are you putting up our writing challenge, mate?
Submitted by r0fl (user info) at 2006-03-29 01:13:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It's alright dude, I think Sac did it to me at some point too.
But, on the other hand, I could be mistaken.
Just take it?
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-29 00:56:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Cheers everyone.
And Sacrilicious, ha, you ARE going through my previous stuff. Righteous.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-03-29 00:42:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Ten years ago, she didn't wear makeup. I miss how she was then, but then, I don't like who I was then. So maybe that's the trade-off."
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Such a mindset described in so few words.
This was really good. Many men would never risk their own safety to help another man in trouble. But even fewer would stop to help a cow.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2006-03-23 10:33:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-03-23 10:17:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
thanks for the link
was a good read
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-03-13 23:32:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was really really good.
Submitted by Unabonger (user info) at 2006-03-13 18:29:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
meh whatever. you asked i answered.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-13 18:17:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, complimenting writing = flirting. Nice equation there. Who cares if it bumps old stuff to MRR? If you want new posts, look through the front page or something. MMR is exactly for indicating the most recently reviewed post, not the newest, and my rating an old post doesn't bump any new ones off the front page.
Submitted by Unabonger (user info) at 2006-03-13 17:09:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:49:48 (#)
Ranking: 0
Why do you care who I review and how I do it?
____________
cause it kicks other posts off the recently reviewed page/column when you bump old posts.
and I'm annoyed by your effort to flirt with another man in the calm anonymity of cyberspace.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-03-13 17:03:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Very very cool.
Thanks for posting this.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-03-13 16:54:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Fine you want a real review?
This was good, wording was minorly (and by minorly I mean microscopically) awkward at points but I really enjoyed it and understood a sort of dettached feeling from the narrator. Or maybe that is just how I look at life perhaps.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-03-13 15:51:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I SAID UNDER 5 PAGES YOU EPILEPTIC WHORE!
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-03-13 15:35:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I do hope you're not an alter, because that would be disappointing for such an excellent writer as yo'self to pre-exist in another form.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 14:54:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-03-13 12:01:20 (#)
Ranking: 2
You are scary good.
Whose alter are you?
-Dave
---
Cheers Dave.
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2006-03-13 14:48:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Sweet Jesus...this was excellent!
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-03-13 12:01:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You are scary good.
Whose alter are you?
-Dave
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-03-13 09:03:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I first saw this and thought it said Atkinson...which is a small town near where I grew up.
Then I double-checked the title.
Despite my disappointment about that, it was a terrific read.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:49:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Universities are abnormal places full of abnormal people. I would not be an academic. I am a self taught pretentious jackass.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:29:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:26:12 (#)
Ranking: 2
Don't worry Red, I haven't the stones for politics. All I hope to do is inspire some uppity, attention seeking nob jockey from Cambridge who will go on to use my message as a vehicle to further his/her own ends and attention seeking drive. In the meantime I will start wearing those black beatnik jumpers and go back to smoking a pipe in public. I may or may not start listening to Jazz.
---
Sounds subversive to me. I had a lecturer like that at uni. He kept insisting the other lecturers were opening his mail and changing his references. He was probably right actually.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:26:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Don't worry Red, I haven't the stones for politics. All I hope to do is inspire some uppity, attention seeking nob jockey from Cambridge who will go on to use my message as a vehicle to further his/her own ends and attention seeking drive. In the meantime I will start wearing those black beatnik jumpers and go back to smoking a pipe in public. I may or may not start listening to Jazz.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:18:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:02:34 (#)
Ranking: 2
It wouldn't be done 'as a service' or 'out of charity'. You'd fuck the mong because you wanted to fuck the mong. I just think that if everyone took a more liberal attitude to it all there would be less lonliness in the world and that would mean people would be more productive.
I'm not hoping for miracles like a British motor industry or anything, but I'd like to see more advances in the social and economic fields, ideally culminating in a higher standard of living for all. Berty has simple dreams of a slightly brighter tommorow.
---
I'd vote for you Berty. Later on, as power corrupted you I would regret the changes happening to you. The edginess in your voice, and the first time you steeled your jaw and said 'whatever it takes.'
Then the voting franchise would start changing, you'd have to mimic a Brummy accent to get in the polls, and next to your name it would say 'Our Glorious Leader Who Thanks You For Your Vote (tick here)'
It'd be too late then, Great Britain would become Great Bertdom, and we'd all look like that Apple advert in 1984 done by Ridley Scott.
You've just lost my vote buster.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 05:02:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It wouldn't be done 'as a service' or 'out of charity'. You'd fuck the mong because you wanted to fuck the mong. I just think that if everyone took a more liberal attitude to it all there would be less lonliness in the world and that would mean people would be more productive.
I'm not hoping for miracles like a British motor industry or anything, but I'd like to see more advances in the social and economic fields, ideally culminating in a higher standard of living for all. Berty has simple dreams of a slightly brighter tommorow.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:47:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:42:55 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:35:11 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:21:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
That was wicked bad! It's like a passage from Zen and the art of motorcycle maintence if that book had been written by a proper person and not a tool.
---
Hey Everyone! Berty is in a good mood! Thank fuck for that - he's been moping around for ages. We shall soon all revel in his carefully thought out, and strongly argued case for why we should all interfere with retards!
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Well everyone wants to be interfered with now and then. Why should the mentally ill be left out of the fun?
Berty is indeed in a very good mood
---
I think you should apply for a government grant and license. Berty offers sexual services to the mentally backward. I'd do Jessica Simpson in the name of kindness to the mentally ill.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:42:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:35:11 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:21:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
That was wicked bad! It's like a passage from Zen and the art of motorcycle maintence if that book had been written by a proper person and not a tool.
---
Hey Everyone! Berty is in a good mood! Thank fuck for that - he's been moping around for ages. We shall soon all revel in his carefully thought out, and strongly argued case for why we should all interfere with retards!
-----------
Well everyone wants to be interfered with now and then. Why should the mentally ill be left out of the fun?
Berty is indeed in a very good mood.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:35:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:21:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
That was wicked bad! It's like a passage from Zen and the art of motorcycle maintence if that book had been written by a proper person and not a tool.
---
Hey Everyone! Berty is in a good mood! Thank fuck for that - he's been moping around for ages. We shall soon all revel in his carefully thought out, and strongly argued case for why we should all interfere with retards!
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-03-13 04:21:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That was wicked bad! It's like a passage from Zen and the art of motorcycle maintence if that book had been written by a proper person and not a tool.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-13 03:51:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It stuttered a little at the start, and I'd have perhaps like a little more with the cow. Have you read Kafka? I think his discriptions of agony are pretty much perfect.
Submitted by midwesternknight (user info) at 2006-03-13 02:57:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nah ending it there isn't a problem, but it does seem to have potential to be expanded upon
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-13 01:33:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by midwesternknight (user info) at 2006-03-13 01:27:27 (#)
Ranking: 2
Great beginning to a story. Oh and auto +2 for writing about a town that may be in Kansas
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I have to tell you this, even though it may affect your rating of the story: that's it. That was the whole thing. Sorry.
Submitted by midwesternknight (user info) at 2006-03-13 01:27:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great beginning to a story. Oh and auto +2 for writing about a town that may be in Kansas
Submitted by MrSparkle847 (user info) at 2006-03-13 01:05:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Mooooo
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:49:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Unabonger (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:43:12 (#)
Ranking: 0
quit sucking dick.
I mean you and your infatuation with Isaac Bickerstaff.
ATTN GHEY MENZ?
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Why do you care who I review and how I do it?
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:47:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
ok... this was good
and thank you for putting something to read up on the front page.
Submitted by Unabonger (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:43:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
quit sucking dick.
I mean you and your infatuation with Isaac Bickerstaff.
ATTN GHEY MENZ?
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:32:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Quality story. I wish driving Route 66 had been as memorable.