Chapter IIA Chapter by MounsellWith a roar like a lion, the
truck made its way down the highway. Kicking up clouds of dust behind it,
the vehicle's navy exterior was hidden by layers of sand and dirt. The
driver, seemingly oblivious of any posted speed limits, was able to make quick
progress along his route. John gripped the wheel firmly and
struggled to gaze far beyond his position.
The miles of road that lay in front of him appeared to fade into the
distance much like the miles behind him had.
Each mile he saw the same landscape, the same mountains, and the same
brilliant sun rising high above him. The
great distance he had covered and the great distance ahead began to worry him. The
monotony of John's drive was broken only by brief periods in which music sounded
from the radio. The distance between
John and the sending stations cut the duration of these periods to only a few
seconds. He was unable to determine the
songs that were played. These periods
served to amuse John even after they were cut off. With each short musical phrase, the driver's
thoughts were drawn away from his present situation. The
needle of the truck's fuel gauge had moved further and further towards the
large red "E" with each passing mile.
John, upon seeing this, tapped at the gauge's glass cover, and frowned. The drive he had undertaken had taken up over
three quarters of his tank and no filling stations were in sight. John
pulled the atlas from the passenger seat and began to shift his eyes between
its pages and the road ahead of him. Looking
at a chart in the back of the atlas, he determined that he had put over a
hundred miles between him and the last town he passed through. The gas he had in his tank would not be able
to get him anywhere close to the next stop on his route. He was sure that his truck would be running
on fumes before he reached the town ahead.
Regardless, he slammed the gas pedal with his boot and shot across the
desert. After
what seemed another hour of driving, the truck's engine began to sputter. John looked at the fuel gauge and saw that it
was still above the "E." He
guided his faltering truck over to the side of the highway. Once he had brought it to a complete stop it,
John could see steam rising from the front of his truck. He stepped out of the vehicle and lifted the hood. At once, a cloud of steam blew into his face
and he quickly pulled his head away. The
cloud of steam rising from the vehicle’s hood convinced John to abandon his
truck for now and set off on foot. He
was wary to do so, though, due to the heat that bore down upon the desert and
continued to rise. John
opened the truck's passenger door and looked at the pile of materials in the seat.
A canteen, a wad of single bills, an
atlas, a pair of sunglasses. John
weighed the importance of each item. With
some reservations, he left behind the road map.
He had studied its features enough to understand that the next town
would lie somewhere along the highway.
Holding a canteen and a wad of cash, and tucking the temples of his
sunglasses into his jacket pocket, John started walking towards the next town. After several
hours of hiking, John was able to spy a cluster of small houses along the
horizon. Unable to make out the finer
details of the structures, he took them to simply be mirages. When he finally came close to them, John
determined the houses to be real. This
realization quickened his pace. He hoped
that one their inhabitants would be able to give him a ride to the next filling
station. As he
drew closer to the homes, John began to doubt whether any of them were
occupied. Looking carefully, he could
tell that many of their windows were busted out, exposing the interiors to the
elements. Bushes had choked off the path
to each home's door. John treaded
carefully through the shrubbery surrounding one house and peered in through a
gritty window. Wiping away the thick
film of dirt with his sleeve, he was able to see the dilapidated state of the
home. Its blue wallpaper had chipped and
cracked, revealing the rotting wood underneath. A few wooden chairs were
scattered about the area that John was able to see. A rotting sea green couch with its foam
cushions exposed sat along the far wall.
Pictures hung from the walls that displayed images of more prosperous
times: family reunions, children's birthdays, and barbecues, among other
things. Rusted utensils, shattered
dishes, and crumbling books littered the floor. John
pulled his face away from the window.
Stepping carefully around the bushes, he walked back to the road. He checked his pockets to ensure that none of
his supplies had fallen into the thick shrubbery. He realized his sunglasses had fallen from
his pocket. He managed to retrieve them from
the bushes with some difficulty. John
placed the sunglasses on his face and continued along the highway.
© 2012 MounsellAuthor's Note
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