The cellular customer you are trying to reach is not available.
I’d try Lucy again later. She hadn’t called but maybe the sound of the crash in the factory spooked her and she went for the cops. Sam and I waited for twenty minutes, then, by unspoken agreement, we started walking.
Ordinarily a seven-mile hike is a piece of cake for me; I’d made it to the top of Half Dome, for pete’s sake, but I’d had a pretty full forty-eight hours and my thigh was bloody and throbbing from the cut. And my shoulder was aching from the shelf unit that had winged it. The road had virtually no shoulder and when the occasional car passed, it felt as if we’d be swept under the tires. There were no truckers, who probably would have stopped to help us, just a few kids who came too close, threw beer cans at us, and scared the crap out of me. But not Sam.
We’d walked about a mile when a car, already suspicious because it was going thirty-five with no one else on the road, pulled over fifteen yards ahead of us. The driver checked us out in his side mirror, then leaned out and asked if we wanted a ride.
It was amazing how much safer I felt with the C2 in my bag. I still hadn’t fired the thing, but it gave me the confidence to say “Sure.” Even so, I hopped into the backseat and let Sam ride up front. If I needed to whip out the Taser, being in the back would give me a little cover and it would be harder for the driver to see how scared I was to actually use it.
He had a plump face and that earmuff hairline-some back, some sides, no top. The suit was shiny and there were two suitcases with company stickers on them in the back. Salesman. He didn’t seem to mind that Sam obviously looked like a homeless man and smelled like fuel, and I-face scratched, hoodie torn, green slime on one pants leg and blood on the other-didn’t look or smell much better. And that suited us. All we wanted was a ride to Titans. A few minutes into the ride we found out why he didn’t mind.
“Friends, I think you were put into my path for a purpose,” he said with a smile. He waited for an acknowledgment.
Oh, brother. “And what would that be?” I asked, not really wanting to know.
“I’m here to snatch you from the road to perdition-literally and figuratively, heh, heh-and to set you back on the road to righteousness. You back there can stop your whoring and this man can stop his wretched drinking and fornicating and all you have to do is…”
What was he talking about? I couldn’t speak for Sam but I hadn’t whored and fornicated for a good year and a half. As a matter of fact, if I got through this experience alive, I planned to pick them up again with a vengeance. I tried tuning the driver out but he went on like that for six of the longest miles of my life. And each time his sermon reached a new crescendo he slowed down a bit for emphasis; we were going twenty-four excruciating miles an hour by the time we reached the turnoff for Titans.
“Stop the car. We can walk the rest of the way,” I said. “It’ll give us time to contemplate turning around our misspent lives.”
At the speed we were going it wasn’t dangerous so I opened the car door slightly and-worried that I’d jump out-the driver finally rolled to a stop. Clearly he hadn’t finished his pitch and was annoyed by our early exit. I wondered if he had his spiel rehearsed and just cruised the highways at night looking for poor, unsuspecting hitchhikers to proselytize to.
As I got out he handed me some pamphlets from a religious group that I had never heard of but one that he assured me was chock-full of good American values. Sam gave the passenger-side door a stronger shove than I would have expected.
“Thank you, my friend,” Sam said. “Can you spare a dollar to help me and the lady get a couple of coffees, to start our new lives of sobriety?”
“I won’t do that,” the driver said, with a smile. “You’ll only spend it on drink.” I didn’t think Sam would, but I was ready for a strong one right about then.
“How about a reference? I’m a mechanical engineer and I think I recognize the corporate logo on your suitcases.”
The driver hit the gas and took off, muttering some very un-brotherly words; Sam tossed the pamphlets after him and turned to me. “He obviously hasn’t paid for his own drinks in a while if he thinks we’re both going to catch a buzz for a dollar,” he said. “T and E man. Probably cheats his company on travel and expenses.”
The dirt road leading to the reservation and Titans just beyond it wasn’t far. This time we talked.
“Sam, by all accounts you’re a smart, likable guy. I gotta ask. What the hell happened?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you the whole story one day. The short version is this… The company went under, all my savings were tied up in my 401(k). I borrowed money short-term at usurious rates to keep up my house payments, but I defaulted on the loans, and then lost my house. I lived in the trailer park for a while, but without a job even that got too expensive. It was surprisingly easy. And shockingly fast. I drank a bit after that.” I could see why.
He was a walking news item. Something you hear about in a sound bite on CNN right before the story about the ferry accident in some part of the world you didn’t know existed.
“No family?” I asked.
“No.” There had to be a longer answer to that one but I didn’t push it.
Near the entrance to the reservation two cars were parked nose to nose. At least three people were out of the cars and arguing. Sam grabbed my sleeve and raised a finger to his lips. He pulled me into the brush at the side of the road, and we crouched down to avoid being seen. The voices grew louder. A man’s voice said, “… not what I signed on for…” and another said, “… you can go back to…”
I was staring straight ahead trying to make out any recognizable shapes or faces when a field mouse crept into my line of sight. We watched each other for about a minute, but I blinked first. The mouse ran around in circles, confused, and when he came close enough for me to see his little teeth I let out a yelp.
“What was that?” one of the threesome said.
Sam pulled two black lawn and leaf bags from his stash. “Put it over your head and curl up,” he whispered. “Now!” He did the same.
A moment later the car in front of us moved and the one that was facing us turned its headlights on. We flattened ourselves farther into the brush.
“It’s nothing, just the wind blowing some roadside garbage. Turn those lights off, you idiot.” It was a woman’s voice. And it was familiar.