Short Story -- No News
I asked talonkarrde88 for a prompt a couple of weeks back. He gave me the prompt, "the last gas station," in response, and of course, I sat on it for a while. My first couple of attempts to fill it were complete shit. This, though? I like. I like it a lot. Buuuut... I have the feeling I might have created yet another universe to expand and fill in, later. Damnit, Sean. You were right. =p
“We should have stopped,” Jake murmurs, teeth gritted together, one set of fingers set precariously in front of his lips. He’s gotta be biting his nails again, his other arm crossed over his chest and eyes focused outward, scanning the desert landscape before us.
“It’s too dangerous to stop,” I mutter back, keeping my eyes on the road as well. The sun burns directly in front of me, making it difficult for me to see the road against the glare of the dust and grime that’s caking my windshield. My eyes try not to move towards my dashboard, towards the little arrow inching ever closer to the E.
We’re going to have to stop soon, anyway, I remind myself. Find shelter, hide out until the sun goes back down. Drive at night, where we can have the windows up and not die of heat exhaustion inside the car. Water’s running dangerously low, too, our last gallon jug down to its last quarter. I don’t know how many more miles until the next stop.
Jake doesn’t, either. He shifts in his seat, tossing his head backwards against the headrest and turning his eyes towards the ceiling of the car. “C’mon, man. Just turn around. Go back to that gas station we saw like, fifteen minutes ago.”
“It’s daylight, Jake,” I hiss, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and I grind my teeth together for a moment. As I breathe out heavily through my nose, I force my fingers to relax. “We can’t be near any buildings during the day. You know that.”
“Just ‘cause you’re convinced that they have made it all the way out here into the desert --”
“I don’t know whether they’re out here, Jake, but it’s better if we don’t take our chances,” I say, leaning back a bit in my seat. I frown to myself, rubbing my face with one hand. Exhaustion starts to set in, settling deep within my chest and pushing outwards, trying to convince my limbs to stop.
“Jason, please --”
“No.”
Jake groans, putting his face in his hands for a moment and raking his fingers through his hair. “Just -- can we switch seats, at least? I’m getting tired of riding shotgun all the time.”
“Are you going to turn the car around and head back towards that last gas station we saw?”
“Dude, Jason -- we need gas. We’re not gonna make it to the next station -- and if we tank out in the middle of nowhere, what the hell are we going to do if they are out here?” Jake points out. “We don’t have any weapons or anything to fight them off with.”
I want to hate him. I want to smack the shit out of him, really, for reminding me of the obvious. Instead, I sigh in resignation, tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel before rubbing my forehead. “You really think we can’t get a little further before we stop?”
“If we’re going to stop we might as well stop somewhere we can get some food and take a piss, dude,” Jake says, his jaw tense and clenched. He uncrosses his arms from over his chest, nails finally removed from under his teeth. “Listen to your little brother for once, will you?”
That’s all it takes. Last time he told me to listen, he had been right. Right about them -- these...inhuman things that attacked our town and the ones neighboring it. They thrive during the day, disappear at night. Don’t ever have any warning for them, either, they just seem to pop out of nowhere, wherever you least expect them, and --
I shiver, blocking out images of those -- those things out as I turn the car around, heading back the way we came. The last one of those things we saw, it had one of my friends in its big, meaty hands. Had my friend’s head in its mouth, and --
“You’re thinking about Sheila again, aren’t you?” Jake asks, breaking the silence between us. He looks at me, gnawing on his fingernails once again. “And how one of those -- those bastards had gotten her.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to, because as soon as Jake asks, he gives me a look of pity and turns his head away. Another heavy silence swallows us, filling the space between our breaths as we continue down the desolate highway. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving for, how many days we’ve been on the road, now. Always on the move. Always able to find one or two gas stations along the way.
But as we near the last one we spotted, dread takes the place where exhaustion once settled despite seeing nothing unusual -- there’s even another car parked in front of one of the pumps. As I pull along side a different pump, I toss Jake my card. “We’ll fill it, this time,” I tell him. “Just -- be quick, okay?”
Jake nods, pushing his door open and slipping out of his seat. His shoulders are hunched as he walks, as if he’s trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. I don’t blame him -- the things we’ve seen, what we’ve run away from....
I shake my head and step outside of the car, myself. The sun’s getting higher in the sky, now, and I know that we need to stop. That we need to get some rest. I walk away from the car, pulling a pack of cigarettes free from my pocket. As I light one, I make sure to be a safe distance from the pumps.
The smoke is comforting, calming the slight tremor in my hands as I look all around the small, rundown gas station. Maybe those creatures aren’t here, after all. The woman pumping her gas seems to have no care in the world as she leans against her car, one leg crossed over the other, impatience plain as day on her face. Maybe the government managed to contain them, maybe they’ve all been captured. I don’t know. Maybe we’re running away for no reason. Maybe we can even go back.
Maybe Jake and I both saw something that doesn’t even exist.
Except there’s blood on my jeans that says otherwise, long turned that brown, rusted color of iron. I suck in another breath of smoke, coughing a little as I inhale just a bit too much. Jake turns his back on the pump, noticing me standing several feet away. He frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks over to me. “You look like hell, man,” he says, plucking the cigarette from my fingers and taking a drag. “Sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“We should find a place to stop,” I tell him, waving him to give the cigarette back. Instead of answering his question directly, I hand him the keys. “Maybe a town or something, this time.”
“I thought you said to avoid places with lots of people?” Jake asks, raising an eyebrow. I pass the cigarette back to him, knowing that he’ll only take a couple of more drags off it before deciding he doesn’t like to smoke, after all. It’s the same routine, every time I light one up. “That’s where they go, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but...” I gesture to the woman who’s finally finished pumping her own gas. She walks unsteadily on her heels as she makes her way around the edge of her car. “The people here -- they don’t seem freaked out to you, do they?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Jake’s face contorts and he coughs as he exhales, obviously having taken in too much smoke at once. He hands the cigarette back to me and shakes his head. “They don’t -- don’t even know what’s happening,” he says, choking out his words. He clears his throat and seems to regain his composure. “Not a word of -- of them in the papers. I checked.”
I raise an eyebrow. “No word at all?”
“Not a single fucking one,” he says, his frown deepening. I snub out the rest of my cigarette, tossing in the nearby trash can before making it back towards our car. As I climb into the passenger seat, he hands me my card back. “Still think we should stop in a town?” he asks, slipping into the driver’s seat. He pushes the key in the ignition and looks at me expectantly.
I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes for a moment. No word at all? Really? I find that so hard to believe, unless... “Drive as long as you can,” I answer finally, my voice wavering slightly. “And stay away from towns.”
Jake nods and starts the car, grim determination overtaking his features for a moment as we pull away from the gas station. “Got it,” he murmurs, relaxing into his seat, one hand loosely on the steering wheel while he rests his arm against the door. “Want to sleep while I drive? Can cover more ground, that way...”
I close my eyes again, propping my head up with one hand as I rest my elbow against my own car door. “If you want,” I answer, not even looking at him. Exhaustion keeps my eyelids closed and my voice stuck in my throat. “Just -- don’t turn on the AC. Wastes gas. Stop whenever.”
“‘Kay.”
There’s silence again. We’re probably wondering the same thing:
Why isn’t there any news?
“We should have stopped,” Jake murmurs, teeth gritted together, one set of fingers set precariously in front of his lips. He’s gotta be biting his nails again, his other arm crossed over his chest and eyes focused outward, scanning the desert landscape before us.
“It’s too dangerous to stop,” I mutter back, keeping my eyes on the road as well. The sun burns directly in front of me, making it difficult for me to see the road against the glare of the dust and grime that’s caking my windshield. My eyes try not to move towards my dashboard, towards the little arrow inching ever closer to the E.
We’re going to have to stop soon, anyway, I remind myself. Find shelter, hide out until the sun goes back down. Drive at night, where we can have the windows up and not die of heat exhaustion inside the car. Water’s running dangerously low, too, our last gallon jug down to its last quarter. I don’t know how many more miles until the next stop.
Jake doesn’t, either. He shifts in his seat, tossing his head backwards against the headrest and turning his eyes towards the ceiling of the car. “C’mon, man. Just turn around. Go back to that gas station we saw like, fifteen minutes ago.”
“It’s daylight, Jake,” I hiss, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and I grind my teeth together for a moment. As I breathe out heavily through my nose, I force my fingers to relax. “We can’t be near any buildings during the day. You know that.”
“Just ‘cause you’re convinced that they have made it all the way out here into the desert --”
“I don’t know whether they’re out here, Jake, but it’s better if we don’t take our chances,” I say, leaning back a bit in my seat. I frown to myself, rubbing my face with one hand. Exhaustion starts to set in, settling deep within my chest and pushing outwards, trying to convince my limbs to stop.
“Jason, please --”
“No.”
Jake groans, putting his face in his hands for a moment and raking his fingers through his hair. “Just -- can we switch seats, at least? I’m getting tired of riding shotgun all the time.”
“Are you going to turn the car around and head back towards that last gas station we saw?”
“Dude, Jason -- we need gas. We’re not gonna make it to the next station -- and if we tank out in the middle of nowhere, what the hell are we going to do if they are out here?” Jake points out. “We don’t have any weapons or anything to fight them off with.”
I want to hate him. I want to smack the shit out of him, really, for reminding me of the obvious. Instead, I sigh in resignation, tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel before rubbing my forehead. “You really think we can’t get a little further before we stop?”
“If we’re going to stop we might as well stop somewhere we can get some food and take a piss, dude,” Jake says, his jaw tense and clenched. He uncrosses his arms from over his chest, nails finally removed from under his teeth. “Listen to your little brother for once, will you?”
That’s all it takes. Last time he told me to listen, he had been right. Right about them -- these...inhuman things that attacked our town and the ones neighboring it. They thrive during the day, disappear at night. Don’t ever have any warning for them, either, they just seem to pop out of nowhere, wherever you least expect them, and --
I shiver, blocking out images of those -- those things out as I turn the car around, heading back the way we came. The last one of those things we saw, it had one of my friends in its big, meaty hands. Had my friend’s head in its mouth, and --
“You’re thinking about Sheila again, aren’t you?” Jake asks, breaking the silence between us. He looks at me, gnawing on his fingernails once again. “And how one of those -- those bastards had gotten her.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to, because as soon as Jake asks, he gives me a look of pity and turns his head away. Another heavy silence swallows us, filling the space between our breaths as we continue down the desolate highway. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving for, how many days we’ve been on the road, now. Always on the move. Always able to find one or two gas stations along the way.
But as we near the last one we spotted, dread takes the place where exhaustion once settled despite seeing nothing unusual -- there’s even another car parked in front of one of the pumps. As I pull along side a different pump, I toss Jake my card. “We’ll fill it, this time,” I tell him. “Just -- be quick, okay?”
Jake nods, pushing his door open and slipping out of his seat. His shoulders are hunched as he walks, as if he’s trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. I don’t blame him -- the things we’ve seen, what we’ve run away from....
I shake my head and step outside of the car, myself. The sun’s getting higher in the sky, now, and I know that we need to stop. That we need to get some rest. I walk away from the car, pulling a pack of cigarettes free from my pocket. As I light one, I make sure to be a safe distance from the pumps.
The smoke is comforting, calming the slight tremor in my hands as I look all around the small, rundown gas station. Maybe those creatures aren’t here, after all. The woman pumping her gas seems to have no care in the world as she leans against her car, one leg crossed over the other, impatience plain as day on her face. Maybe the government managed to contain them, maybe they’ve all been captured. I don’t know. Maybe we’re running away for no reason. Maybe we can even go back.
Maybe Jake and I both saw something that doesn’t even exist.
Except there’s blood on my jeans that says otherwise, long turned that brown, rusted color of iron. I suck in another breath of smoke, coughing a little as I inhale just a bit too much. Jake turns his back on the pump, noticing me standing several feet away. He frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks over to me. “You look like hell, man,” he says, plucking the cigarette from my fingers and taking a drag. “Sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“We should find a place to stop,” I tell him, waving him to give the cigarette back. Instead of answering his question directly, I hand him the keys. “Maybe a town or something, this time.”
“I thought you said to avoid places with lots of people?” Jake asks, raising an eyebrow. I pass the cigarette back to him, knowing that he’ll only take a couple of more drags off it before deciding he doesn’t like to smoke, after all. It’s the same routine, every time I light one up. “That’s where they go, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but...” I gesture to the woman who’s finally finished pumping her own gas. She walks unsteadily on her heels as she makes her way around the edge of her car. “The people here -- they don’t seem freaked out to you, do they?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Jake’s face contorts and he coughs as he exhales, obviously having taken in too much smoke at once. He hands the cigarette back to me and shakes his head. “They don’t -- don’t even know what’s happening,” he says, choking out his words. He clears his throat and seems to regain his composure. “Not a word of -- of them in the papers. I checked.”
I raise an eyebrow. “No word at all?”
“Not a single fucking one,” he says, his frown deepening. I snub out the rest of my cigarette, tossing in the nearby trash can before making it back towards our car. As I climb into the passenger seat, he hands me my card back. “Still think we should stop in a town?” he asks, slipping into the driver’s seat. He pushes the key in the ignition and looks at me expectantly.
I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes for a moment. No word at all? Really? I find that so hard to believe, unless... “Drive as long as you can,” I answer finally, my voice wavering slightly. “And stay away from towns.”
Jake nods and starts the car, grim determination overtaking his features for a moment as we pull away from the gas station. “Got it,” he murmurs, relaxing into his seat, one hand loosely on the steering wheel while he rests his arm against the door. “Want to sleep while I drive? Can cover more ground, that way...”
I close my eyes again, propping my head up with one hand as I rest my elbow against my own car door. “If you want,” I answer, not even looking at him. Exhaustion keeps my eyelids closed and my voice stuck in my throat. “Just -- don’t turn on the AC. Wastes gas. Stop whenever.”
“‘Kay.”
There’s silence again. We’re probably wondering the same thing:
Why isn’t there any news?