Dale closed his eyes as tightly as he could. He braced himself for the bullet. He tried to think of everyone he still needed to say ‘I’m sorry’ to. He thought of his mother, his brother and his cousins. He wasn’t ready.
CLICK
The sound of the revolver dry firing snapped him from the precipice of a flashback to his entire life. His eyes opened, his teeth unclenched, and he could feel a few tears running down his cheek. Laura had a look of whimsical confusion on her face. She tucked the gun behind her, and shrugged as she smiled at Dale. She then reached for something in her front pocket. “Hold this” she said as she tossed a metal ring at Dale’s face. The ring bounced off his head as Laura threw something at the hole in his car’s windshield. She began walking towards him. Dale’s car exploded in a large ball of dancing oranges, reds and yellows. Laura was past him as a few small pieces of the car landed near or on Dale. The car lit up the countryside as it burned. Dale felt a hot wind blow by him, then he felt two arms drape over his shoulders. He saw a black gloved hand open his shirt pocket and place a bullet in it. “If you tell them about me, I’ll find you and make sure all six chambers are loaded.” Dale heard footsteps, and then a car starting. He heard the tires rolling away.
Then, the tires stopped. He heard a car door open, and footsteps coming towards him. Laura crouched in front of him, and put her hands on either sides of his head. Dale instantly thought she was going to snap his neck. Instead, she pulled his head forward, and leaned into him. Her lips met his, and she gave him a long, slow, wet kiss. Dale’s shock gave way to an unusual calm, and an odd feeling of ease. Laura pulled her lips from his and rested her forehead on his. She slid her face against his, brushing her cheek against his. He could feel her breath in his hear. “Dale?”
“Y…yes?”
“I will find you.” Laura then stood up and walked to her car. The engine revved and soon Dale was alone on I-29, with only his burning car as his company.
***
“My name is Robert Fulton. I’m from Spearfish, I live in Sioux Falls, and I sell Volkswagens. I have a degree in history from USD. In the last twenty-four or so hours, one of my two best friends on Earth died. I cried alone, and I cried when I could. Since then I’ve been threatened at gunpoint. I’ve been in a high speed chase. I’ve been shot at and I’ve hid in a smelly old AMC Pacer. I listened to a crazy old game show addict and hid in a boxcar to avoid the police asking questions. I pooped in a corner like a guinea pig, and watched my other best friend almost die to help us get off the train, even if it wasn’t where I wanted to go. I’ve lied to police and almost choked on a cheeseburger. Worst of all, an error in judgement will probably lead to me losing my other best friend on Earth, and looking back I can’t say that I blame him one bit. Believe me when I say that if I knew what you wanted, or could say what you wanted to hear, I would. The only condition would be that you point me to the nearest bar so that I may drink myself into oblivion.”
Jeremiah looked at Bob with amazement. “Usually nobody responds when we ask if they have anything to say. That rant was a record. Sadly, it doesn’t change anything, or answer my questions.” Jeremiah started to take off his jacket, and Bob hung his head.
