Desert Road (508 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.75 on 4 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by CATAL (View user info) at 2006-06-23 01:54:20 EDT
I spit out onto the road. I pretend it sizzles it's so hot.
It doesn't. Not really. But it's still hot.
I'm sitting on the side of the road out in the middle of the fucking desert with nothing to drink but maybe five ounces of whiskey in my hip flask. Not enough to get drunk, and besides it will just dehydrate me more, or so I've heard.
To be fair I must say my position has improved over the past eight hours. I didn't start at the road in the middle of the desert. I started in the middle of the desert. Took me all morning to find the road. Since then I've been hitchhiking. Or trying to. Only one car has passed since I've been here. They didn't stop.
My mind briefly plays over how I wound up here in the desert but I shove it out of my head.
With a sudden impulse that grips me I unscrew the cap of my flask and down the contents coughing as the hot liquid sloshes down my throat. I lean over the asphalt coughing onto the ground spitting some more. My hands scrape gravel on the road and the blacktop burns my palms.
A ways off I hear a car coming, I look in the distance and see a small dust cloud following a red pick-up truck headed my way. It's going in the opposite direction that I want to go, but I guess it doesn't really matter. I guess I don't really have any reason to go back to town anyway. Back to Barstow. Might as well move on to something new. There's nothing I can't live without back there anyway.
I get up off my knees and wipe the spittle from my mouth. I pick up my flask and slide it into my jeans pocket, an uncomfortable bulk pressed up against my thigh.
I've been sweating profusely for, well, for about all day. I haven't changed clothes for three days and I can't imagine getting any new clothes in the near future.
I have maybe forty dollars. Other than a half pack of cigarettes, a small book of matches almost gone, my flask, a cheap pair of plastic sunglasses, and the clothes I'm wearing, I don't have any possessions.
As the truck gets nearer I yawn and hook my thumbs into my belt loops. I don't stick out my thumb or anything, but I stand alone in the middle of the road.
The truck slows as it gets closer and I can see a disheveled man at the wheel. Looks thirty-ish, but what do I know. Five o'clock shadow. Blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top three buttons unbuttoned. Brown mop of hair tossed about his head. Looks haggard and worn out. Like me.
Pulls up beside me. I squint beneath my sunglasses and stick my jaw out with my mouth hanging half open looking at him.
What'cha doin' out here?
Having the time of my life. How 'bout you?
He pauses a moment looking at me, then shakes his head slightly saying, Fuck it man, just get in.
Thanks, I nod.
I walk around and open the door, the hot chrome handle burns my hand again.
He pulls away at a leisurely pace. Both the windows are down and it seems there isn't any air conditioning. He has the radio on but all it's picking up is static.
Where ya headed?
Just out of here.
That was my guess. Thirsty?
Dying.
I got a couple a cold beers back behind me in the icebox. Why don't'cha get us out some?
I reach behind his seat and pull up a green icebox. Inside are four brown bottles of some generic beer. I pull out two cold ones and put it back.
I look around for a bottle opener or something when he says, Give it here.
He takes a bottle and places it between his legs. His hands leaving the wheel he rolls up his window about halfway and places the tip of the beer to the tip of the window, the side of the cap resting on the edge. Then with his other hand he makes a fist and slams it down on top of the bottle the cap flying off.
Neat trick.
Thanks, and we switch bottles, him repeating the same trick with the new one.
Cheers, he says and takes a big gulp.
I look down at the bottle and shrug, topping it back and taking a long, cold drink.
I sigh in relief and press the cold bottle up against my forehead as I lean back in my seat.
Thanks, I say.
Hey, uh, he starts glancing over at me. You think you could throw in a few for gas?
I look at him and unsuccessfully stifle a chuckle. You serious? and spread my hands slightly as if to let him get a better look at me.
He looks over at me again, somewhat grins and then says, I guess...not.
Sorry, but I'm about at the end of my rope.
It's alright. I could use the company anyways, and he takes another sip from his beer.
So what's your name anyway?
Stan, I say pointing at my shirt.
Oh, yeah, alright, he nods. My name's Henry. I'm, uh, salesman. I...sell, well was, I sold, um, cars. Used cars actually. Now I'm heading to Vegas, maybe to make some money. Start over or something. I'm not really sure. Know there's nothing behind me worth staying around for.
Yeah. I'm actually sorta the same. I guess I'm a drifter now... Used to work, well, I used to work as a lot of things. Lately though, I was...nevermind...
Huh? How's that?
Nevermind.
Alright. So, uh, you gonna come all the way to Vegas, or you want me drop you off somewhere in between?
Vegas is as good as any I guess.
Alright, uh, cool I guess.
Yeah, cool...
User Reviews
Submitted by runswithscissors (user info) at 2006-06-23 17:08:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you have my interest.....
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-06-23 16:30:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm partial to hanging out in Calico, myself
Submitted by fun_with_needles (user info) at 2006-06-23 02:06:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
It's good. But the characters don't seem to believe what they are doing themselves.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-06-23 02:04:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
More?
Please?