I left in the middle of the night and drove past the Seattle suburbs, past the farm towns and into the foothills of a snow covered mountain along Highway 2. Beads of rain formed on my windshield, cascading towards the hood before being swept away by the wipers. It was a dreary night for a drive and I probably wouldn't have been out in this weather if it wasn't for my desire to run from things when they got to hard. And yet, I still had this urge to turn around and crawl into bed with Clark. To tell him everything is going to be okay as I ran my fingers through his hair. It wasn't going to be okay though, and I'm sure he'd get over this with time. Just like I would.
It didn't help that the further I got into mountain country, the more Id drive by things that made me think of him all over again. Clark was originally from a small town off of Highway 2 called Skykomish. And it seemed like he had a story for every place we passed the last time we drove this way. I remember him pointing out a small hiking trail and exclaiming with a small amount of pride “This is the turn-off you'd use to hike the river-run in the summer. I've only done it once, but it was a while back. We should really do that together.” We eventually did. Anything that Clark wanted to do, without fail, he did. I loved him for that. He had this bold tenacity that I absolutely admired and quickly shrugged of any obstacle the dropped onto his braod, muscular shoulders.
“Enough of that!” I said loudly, to myself. The sound of my own voice startled me. Even over the hum of my Volvo's motor and the 80's tune blaring from my speakers I could hear myself being choked up. I fought back a tear and faced the road ahead of me. My fingers found the volume knob being illuminated by the dashes green aura lighting and cranked it up. The sound of Duran Duran faded just as “Take On Me” by A-ha came up next. “Great! Another song to remind me of him!” I quipped sarcastically at the radio. I punched the power button and settled on listening to the pavement splash and the wiper's rhythmic quest to rid my car of rain.
I shouldn't be focusing on all the good. I should be reminding myself of the bad, which, if I were measuring (I needed to be) far outweighed the positives at this point. I cracked the power window a crack and pulled out a Marlboro, flicked my lighter and began pulling a long overdue drag as I mulled the last month over in my head.
It was December when he told me. It took him 3 goddamn months to tell me the truth about his affair. I knew something was off about the day he told me. His normally enchanting voice sounded robotic when he said “We need to talk. Meet me at University Bistro in ten?” over the phone. I just finished my shift at the hospital and was more excited to get home and binge more Netflix, but his tone pulled me towards the bistro. As I walked, bundled to the nines, I was going over the possibilities in my head as the wind whipped at my face. My nose and cheeks blossoming red in the arctic chill. I ran my hand over my face and realized id forgotten to shave again this morning. Second day in a row. I figured maybe he'd fallen into a gambling debt, or found out he was getting an apprenticeship in New York or something. Maybe he didn't like the idea of having to tell me we were moving across the U.S.
His carefree lifestyle and small nest egg his parents had left him afforded a certain lifestyle. At this point in his life, he'd spent more time hiking, kayaking and biking then he did in any job. And any job he did find lasted just a couple months. School was a part-time affair as well. He had just graduated with his bachelors last spring and was looking to find a job in Ecological Engineering the last few months out in New York. That's why I thought he might be telling me that we may be moving. He'd grown up in this state and probably didn't like the idea of leaving which could be the reason he sounded so dreadful on the phone. I didn't think he was going to tell me he had been sleeping with another man.
Clark told me everything. About how they met, how they first fucked and how they fell in love. He kept punctuating everything with “Pat, I still love you though. It was a huge mistake. I'm so sorry.” He explained that he cut things off with him right before September and was just looking for the right time to tell me. I didn't know how to react. And, truthfully, it was that day that I started to disconnect. I told him that it would take time to fix, that id do my best to forgive him. I never truly did though. I grew distant, less aroused by him. I saw that this perfect man was not what id imagined. I couldn't help but grow resentful. Every time he went to the gym, I had this dialogue in my head that told me he was just trying to look good for other guys and that he'd cheat again. He must've wanted out, because I wasn't the person who thought about leaving first. I found out he had been looking into buyig a one-way plane ticket to Austin, Texas (who knows why he chose Texas).
After a week of consideration, I typed a farewell note and taped it to the refrigerator beside all the photos of us we'd hung up with cute little magnets. I reminded him that I'd always love him, no matter what, but I couldn't stay in the apartment, in this city, in this state with him any longer. I only chose to leave because I was worried about him financially, really. I was a Resident Lead at Harborview and made significantly more than he did. His parents nest egg was nearly depleted and Clark would probably resort to hopping around couches until he figured something out. He might have even gone out to the woods and camped for all I know, he would've enjoyed that too.
I had my bags packed and thrown in the trunk as he left for work that morning. I gingerly kissed him goodbye and told him Id see him tonight. That day at work, time crawled by. I put the final touches on my Exit Forms and clocked out. I would miss Seattle. I would miss Clark.
The cherry of the cigarette was licking at my fingers as I pulled my head out of todays events. I put it out in the ashtray and decided I'd stop for gas at the next station I could find.
It felt like hours had past. My gauge on the dash showed that I was nearing the final empty line before my gas light would blink on. I'd passed a few small building along the way but nothing that looked open or that it carried fuel. Normally, on a sunny day, this mountain pass only took a few hours to cross. I checked the time. 4:17 blinked back at me. I had left just after midnight and only stopped once to grab smokes and a snack. I should have already been through Leavenworth at this point. Confused, I pulled the car over, shut the engine off and stepped out of the car.
The silence was overwhelming. The only thing I heard was my radiator. There was a slight hum that seemed to come from some way off of the road and id just assumed it was the river that Highway 2 follows fairly close most of the time. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and went to check the GPS. “NO SERVICE” displayed in the top left of the screen. That explains why Clark hadn't called me yet. I'm sure that the moment my cell found service Id have an onslaught of chirps, chimes and whistles from my phone. Texts, voicemails and Facebook messages. Or maybe I'd have nothing and he accepted my departure with stoic indignation.
I hadn't made any obvious turns along the road. And there really weren't any to speak of. Highway 2 was a pretty straightforward stretch of asphalt. From Everett to Wenatchee. And I somehow got lost in between. Just my luck. I felt myself shiver underneath my coat. The icy air was still, but it had this depth and weight to it that seemed to press into my limbs and chest. I climbed back into the driver seat and started to think. I had been driving a bit slower then normal because of the weather and that could be the reason the time doesn't add up. Simple enough. That doesn't explain why I hadn't passed any familiar places though. I was positive I should've been by a fuel station by now. I must have gone off highway 2 then. I could always turn back around and figure out which way I messed up, get back on the main road and find a gas station. If I was wrong, id be stranded though. I also don't know if id been driving off track for 10 minutes or 2 hours. The idea of getting stuck outside in this weather is what made me decide to push forward in hopes of finding someplace to fuel up.
Once my gas light comes on, I can usually go another 20 miles before I run out. I was still a few miles from the light coming on also.
I started to wish Clark was here. He would now exactly where we were and confidently point us in the right direction. He could look at the stars and be able to tell us exactly how many miles from any given landmark in Washington state we were.
“This was NOT the time for missing him.” I assured myself and turned the key in the ignition. The motor came to life and I put the car in D and continued straight.
The clock on the dash was showing 5:30 and my nerves were running high. I started having mini panic attacks after the low fuel light came on. Not good. As I drove I tried to figure out my surrounding by looking into the distance, hoping to get a glance of a mountain peak but when I finally found a clear view I didn't recognize anything I saw. To make matters worse, I couldn't see any stars or the moon. The only light, as far as I could tell, came from my high-beams.
I continued to drive for ten more minutes, throwing the vehicle in neutral to coast down slight hills when I found them, hoping that the trick would save gas. I thought back to anything I could in my childhood, hoping to remember anything that my parents had said about being in this situation. Nothing came to me. Nothing. I was losing hope faster then my tank was draining. Id probably end up sitting here, all night, just waiting for a driver to come by. Hoping that they'd be willing to stop and help me out. Even then, this road seemed to have nothing on it. It was just densely packed forest on either side of me. Maybe people wouldn't even drive up here until summertime. What then? Id have to hoof it back. The thought of which upset me, not because I didn't want to walk, but because id just convinced myself to come this way in the first place instead of just turning around and trying to find where I screwed up and turned off the road. Ii cursed myself for that mistake.
I was staring out my driver side window as I noticed it. Two dimly lit buildings ahead at the top of a small hill. One on the right and another on the left. The lights were just bright enough that I had hope that they might even be open. Even if they weren't, I could park there, sleep outside until someone showed up. That was option was better then anything else (except for actually getting to a fuel station) so far. I stepped on the pedal and forced my Volvo to crest the shallow hill, threw it in neutral and coasted into the lot on the left.
The building to my right was a diner that looked like it was busier then a Friday night in downtown Seattle. Its siding was decorated to have a southern American aesthetic but the neon sign had read All American Burgers and Shakes. I almost burst into a fit of laughter and joy. I wasn't going to have to walk. Or sleep in my car. Maybe I'd even go grab a burger after I fueled up.
The right side of the road contained an old rickety gas-mart. There were only two pumps available but it seemed unusually busy here too. I didn't look to closely at my surroundings but there seemed to be a small mechanic's garage attached to the building and a selection of goods inside the store itself. I was a few cars behind as I pulled in to meet the cars ahead. This might take a couple minutes, but I was in no hurry. i took the keys out of the ignition. I looked down at my phone and noticed that I had one bar of service. Still no messages though. “Better then no bars.” I muttered to myself. I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Id almost been awake 24 hours now and was really starting to feel it. “Hopefully someone will have directions.” I thought as I drifted into sleep.
I was having the most pleasant dream of Clark rubbing my feet when I shot bolt upright. After drifting off, I slumped over and practically had my face in the passenger seat. I glanced up and saw that everything was still super busy, but the pump had opened up. The clock was laughing at me now. 8:37 AM. I muttered to myself “Shit...” and realized I was freezing. I turned the engine over and pulled up to the nozzle.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and cracked my back as I stood outside the car. The lady in the car next to me was just sitting behind her tinted windows and her vehicle was filled. The diner was playing some soft crooner over the outdoor speakers and its beautiful melody drifted on the heavy wind in my direction. Still looked busy over there.
A chime signaled my entrance into the small, dusty shop. A couple coolers to the side held soft drinks and beer while a small shelf in the center had an assortment of candy bars, different motor oils and various car parts. I pulled a warm Red Bull from the cold box and took it to the cashier. Without looking up, I dug for my wallet and withdrew a 50 dollar bill from it.
“Ill take this” I pointed at the red bull, “and the rest at the green Volvo outside.” I pointed towards my car.
Silence.
I looked up to see if maybe the guy didn't want to take a fifty.
I reeled back in half shock and half horror. The attendant was a mannequin. A lifeless hunk of plastic, dressed up to resemble a worker. The plastic around his face looked terrible. It was beat up and seemed misshapen. Same with his hands. The sensation of being watched seeped into every part of my body faster then I could explain. I shuddered and dug around in my wallet for a smaller set of bills to leave on the counter in exchange for my drink.
“Hellllllloooooooo!” I shouted as I pressed the new ills to the cabinet. “I'm leaving a few bucks for this drink!” I figured I must just have to pay outside for the gas. I stepped back to the car and looked around for a machine to slide my debit card into and didn't find anything even remotely that technologically advanced.
I knocked on the lady's window next to my car to see if she had already paid or not. No reply. I cupped my hands and pressed them and my face to the glass.
It was another mannequin. I began to feel uneasy and I looked around in all directions. Hoping I wouldn't see some crazy person lumbering out of the trees towards me. I took off jogging towards the diner. Maybe someone there could help. All the cars in the lot were empty. I decided to go inside. I pulled the front door open and a small chime rose from a bell attached to the inside of the doorknob.
I froze. I couldn't move. I could only gaze in stunned horror. The whole place was filled with grizzly mush-mashed mannequins. Distorted hand, and heads. Some of them stained and missing limbs. The scene was so convincing from afar. My heart pounded in my chest as I started moving again. My face and ears were starting to burn out of nervousness, despite the near freezing temperatures. I stepped closer to the life size dolls, all of them posed so perfectly.
“Maybe I should just call AA” I thought, turning around slowly. Just as I was going to exit, something caught my eye. I looked like a small metal frame. Something used to support the weight of the mannequins. But I recognized it from somewhere else. In the morgue, they were used to sometimes pose a body part so that whoever was doing the medical inspection could get a closer look at a hard to reach spot. And then, that second, I knew.
I couldn't believe it. My head started spinning and I saw stars. I was trying to run for the exit but I was beginning to lose my balance. I felt like I was walking through molasses. These weren't mannequins.
They were corpses.
I sprinted to my car as soon as I got out of the diner, fumbling for my phone in my pocket. I had to call 911. I had to. Just needed to get safe first. Just needed to drive away from these two buildings. I had no service, again. I swear I had one bar when I was here, in nearly this exact spot before. I decided I was going to take some gas, even if I didn't pay. I flipped my fuel door open and yanked off my gas cap and reach for the nozzle. A sharpened piece of scrap metal and wiring seemed to leap from a hidden port just below the nozzle as I pulled it from the docking area. The rusted steel and wire wrapped itself around my wrist and began to cut into me and dig its way into my skin. It only got worse as I struggled against it. With one hand, I lifted the fueling latch and dropped the nozzle into my tank. The sweet scent of gasoline filled my nose while I pulled at the wire and metal cutting into my wrist.
My mind was racing. I just fell for a booby trap. That someone set intentionally it looked like, in a gas station filled with posed corpses. “I'm asleep!” I thought. I extracted my hand from the tangle finally and started slapping my face. Just pain, nothing else. I didn't wake up. My wrist continued to bleed as I slapped and pinched everything I could. I did nothing to wake myself up. Only make a mess. The nozzle clicked and I pulled it from my tank and threw it away without hanging it up. I raced to the driver side, sat down. Threw the keys into the ignition and pulled out of the gas station as fast as I could. The squeal of the tires pierced the morning air.
I couldn't think straight, I could barely breathe. I hit the visor light, turning it on and looked at my wound. It was bad. I was a doctor and didn't see that much blood on a regular basis. I pulled the car to the side of the road, skidding through the gravel and dirt. I grabbed some napkins from the glove compartment and pressed them to my wrist and dialed 911.
A State trooper showed up nearly an hour later. After recounting my story to him he gave me a pretty inquisitive look. He told me that he drove past absolutely nothing to get to me. There was no diner, no gas station and no people on the road. I mustve looked crazy or high because he did a field sobriety test and I passed. We talked a little bit more and he pulled a road map from his cruiser and showed me where the nearest hospital was. He helped me bandage everything up and I was on my way. I still have a scar on my wrist and never had the nerve to drive back. To this day, I still do not know if I had just been seeing things or maybe the sleep deprivation got to me.
Submitted April 08, 2017 at 04:39PM by kittygunsgomew http://ift.tt/2op6nAJ nosleep
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