Trigonometry

Chapter 56: Trigonometry

 

 

 

           

 

Supposing he had what it took to wait out the rest of the night until he got tired enough to sleep, he sat back in the car seat for a strait of nineteen minutes in the parking lot. On his mind was the radiant falling object that he’d seen last night. There was no way it was right here. He was roaring for the opportunity to go and find it if possible. It had to be somewhere back beyond whatever main road ran between the apartment place and the far side of the highway. He closed the door after getting some air and smoking a cigarette. He wondered how long it would take to even search for something like that, to even get close to it. Like a stone he dropped the hammer down on the accelerator and watched the needle go up when he hit the ground rolling to the piece of the city he didn’t know. For once in his life, he could grace the night freely with no crunch for time. He swatted at the rearview mirror for it was out of place and moved it back in. The street signs compiled boundlessly off the beams of his headlights. He didn’t know where to go or if to turn down one of them. He bordered the turn, and ended up sandwiched between a house and a truck stop at a stop sign. He moved over into the truck stop. Forgetting that he had a meager amount of gas left, he shucked his car over into the lot and turned the car off. With the way things were going, he didn’t know if the venture was a smart choice. He got out. Like a forecast, he hued the scene and checked every foot of the leveled off pavement. Where the edge was next to some woods, he leaned out to look at the ditch he saw when he wandered out off the blacktop. In a one-in-a-million possibility, he hovered over a spherical rock that sat under a wilted tree and its roots. The compressed stone was light and greige in fluorescence, even in the after hours. Which stood out among the bank, seated in the crevice that Trevor couldn’t seem to get to.

            For a while, he just stood there looking at it. He pushed down the hill with some bracing when he got the gusto to do so. For a minute, it looked like it weighed next to nothing. When he dug it out, it scraped the dirt it was lodged in and lobbed down the hill into the ditch. He went after it. Interestingly, he touched it and it was warm. He nudged it again. Tearing at it with his foot the second time to see if it would make a reaction, no response. It probably wasn’t harmful, but he didn’t know if he could safely out it just yet as not an injurious piece of hard rock. By the time he lulled it over on its other side with the side of his foot, it began tremoring violently. He broke away from it, but it was too late. The small bluish rock exploded into a great flame that covered the waist of the ditch. Trevor was eaten by the eruption. He came to headfirst on the ground and tarnished his clothes to shawls. In a fling he stocked up and looked down at his body. He swept his eyes cast over his legs. His right foot was gone. He underestimated the power of whatever that thing was. Trevor was mortified. He leaned and groaned and wailed and held his stub where his foot had been. Like magic his brain clipped an idea, maybe something of a traumatic intuition, he lowered his left hand onto his foot that had been consumed by the blast and stunted him. Wiping his toes and base clean off. He attempted at regenerating his torn off foot. For what felt like fifty something minutes he lay there in insurmountable pain, waiting for his foot to come back to him. If he knew if it would or wouldn’t work, he wouldn’t even have tried to do it. Writhing away in pain though, for the course of the next hour and maybe forty something minutes more he had it back the way it was. Like a miracle from the heaven’s, if you think you’d want to call it that, it developed and assembled free-form for a graceful two hours even and even if unbearably so, he had a foot again.