The faded glow of a near cloudless sky gave promise that tomorrow would again be as warm and bright as the day it replaced. The hour marched forward to when the day draws upon its last gasp of breath and relinquishes its secure and warming blanket. The surrounding beauty, reminiscent of a picture postcard, was lost to Grace as she kept her red boot firmly on the car’s accelerator. Her face lacked emotion, tempered against a smile, sullen. The radio had been silenced at the beginning of the journey, the staccato tone killed in mid-sentence, a distraction from her own inner voice. The only sound was the solo continuous gasping note teasing cooled air into the interior. She knew that in one direction on the long straight black asphalt she could go back to the city by the bay, forward, a city where only the strip, its many themed hotels, seemed to be the only thing marking its existence. Neither loud metropolis was where she wanted to be.
It wasn’t always like this. Laughter and happiness, the smile of a child, innocence of the world at an ever-decreasing age. The unending ability to make decisions with a safety net tucked beneath you. Left or right, it didn’t matter the direction, the destination was always home. Always warmth and security against the drawing of the day. At what age did this change? Why did it even have to? Luck had played its part from the start. Being born. Gifted with loving, caring parents. That was the start. No memories can take you back to the beginning, back to being the helpless dependant. Infant photo’s unrecognisable to the person looking. Nothing written. Expectation.
This journey felt planned and familiar. Not because she had been here many times, many years. Because of the destination within the destination. Leaving the road happened when she passed an unremarkable sign announcing that the city lay sixty miles ahead. Car horns blared at the unexpected deviation. Bathed faces reflected like demons as seconds were lost from their own needs, their own hopes.
The side road, in contrast to the main highway, caused the suspension to suffer as the car heaved and bounced. Knuckles whitened on hands welded in position at exact opposites. The inclined parched rutted surface was unnoticeable as a road, even as a track it lacked obvious markers, only familiarity guided the way. Eventually, the upward sweeping turn revealed a less tortuous deserted single lane which itself blended into the surrounding landscape. It weaved and pitched through the natural and untouched scenery but remained an impossible flat oasis along which the car effortlessly clung to. The desert breath drew fine sand over the flat causing waves of golden powder to swirl and become airborne, dancing in the unnatural light as the car pushed forward. By the side of the road a single square sign, beaten and faded yellow by nature yet recent and new, gave warning that the area ahead was private and off limits and prosecutions would follow. A small footnote warned of snakes and coyote.
The pastel backdrop lost its last flecks of light as Grace reached the twelve-mile marker. A single distant light, a pin hole in the darkened landscape, seemed to sway, beckoning her on. A star not quite fallen. She didn’t smile or give any sigh of relief at the sight presented to her. No outward emotion signalled an arrival at the end of the journey. No fanfare. No waiting dignitary. No welcome sign to cause her thin lips to curve. Her foot eased gently off the accelerator and she allowed the car’s momentum to pull it forward. A moment paused before the car stalled as she took it out of gear and gently applied the brake. Killed the headlights. Blended into darkness.
Looking down at the seat next to her she reached out to its benign passengers. Pushing aside the two manila envelopes she picked up a dark wooded box no bigger than three fingers. A small brown bottle with a pharmaceutical label rested, trapped and ignored, in the slim gap between the white leather seat and the backrest. Opening the box she removed a large metal key, its teeth spiking out on four sides, ominous in shape. Exiting the car, she stood for a moment before stepping to the side. The short wooden pole was easy for her to locate. At the base, covered in sand, a metal box showed signs of rust at its corners. Lifting the lid, she pushed the key in with little resistance, A full two turns were need before the familiar click. Leaving the key in place, she closed the box stood up and waited. She lifted her gaze and looked ahead at the distant single swaying light.
Two breaths exhaled and joined before any noticeable change. The solitary spec of light became ten, became twenty, became a hundred, became more. A gentle awakening from the darkened slumber. What may have been the light from a single distant dwelling was now lost amongst streets, shops and apartment blocks. A dream coming into focus from the darkness. The benign stage, backdrops and all, gave way to a small town. Alonetown.
Grace got back behind the wheel, closed the door with a firm click and edged the car forward. The natural incline of the street gave notice in the elevated pressure she placed on the accelerator. Reaching the first buildings the car slowed to a walking pace, the sight reflected between brightly lit but empty buildings along wide streets devoid of footsteps and compromised faces. The car, its engine barely audible, rolled along Main Street before the traffic lights held it at the junction with First Street and Church Way. Bathed in red, indistinguishable notes seeped from the combustion engine invading the silent air which stepped unhindered along vacant paths. Grace looked around, past empty sidewalks and clear glass her gaze resting on the shop mannequins blankly staring back. Each form confined and timeless, seemingly conscious of the familiar figure locked within her own confines. A waiting of arrested friends with their own names only ever spoken by a younger version of the woman stilled, staring in calm awe at the unchanged façade.