Purgatory Road Read online

“You take a debit?” Jack asked, putting his card on the counter.

  “You getting gas?” The man lifted his eyes and pinned Jack with a dull stare.

  “Uh, no . . . just this. Like I said.”

  “Cash only, Jack.”

  Jack stared back, trying to cover his shock.

  “Your name’s on your card.”

  “Oh.”

  “Spook easily, don’t you?”

  Jack put the card back in his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. Colten took the money, opened the till, dropped it in, and slammed the drawer, all while staring Jack in the eye. He took another toke. His hands were rough-hewn out of burnt leather, tipped with dirty fingernails. The hands of a mechanic, Jack thought, or a thug.

  He had seen guys like this when he and his wife would waste away a Sunday afternoon watching a COPS marathon on cable. Laughing at trailer trash, an American pastime.

  “You sure that’s all you need?”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure . . . that’s all you need?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence filled the room as Jack waited, wondering if the man was going to bag his things. The smell of fresh nicotine combining with the stale, musty air of the shop was suffocating, overpowering. He felt uncomfortable, worried, as if he had walked up on a rattlesnake.

  “Is there anything else down this road?”

  “I thought you had all you needed.”

  “Well, is there?”

  “What are you looking for, Jack?”

  “N-n-nothing, just w-wondered if . . .” Jack trailed off. He hated it when he stammered. Not since grade school had it been a real problem, when the school bully called his number on random days for his annual beating. He felt eight years old again.

  “Wondered what? You want to see poor folk and misery? Is that fun for you?”

  “No, it’s not.” Jack quickly became aware of himself—his overpriced, casual chic attire, the nouveau bohemian getting smacked with impoverishment.

  The front door opened and Laura stepped up to his side, surveying what he was buying. Colten’s face brightened as he looked at the new arrival.

  “Howdy, miss. Beautiful day, ain’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” she replied with a smile.

  Colten bagged up the goods, then pushed them across the counter, where Jack had to catch them before they went spilling on the floor. He stared back at the man, sensing the swarthiness flowing off of him.

  “You folks out exploring?” Colten said, ignoring the answers Jack had provided.

  “Yes,” Laura started, “we just want to get away from the strip for a day. You know, see some of the country and all.”

  “Good a place as any to see it. We got a little bit of everything out here.” Colten lifted off his hat and smoothed back his black hair. Jack expected to see Colten’s palm covered in grease and sweat. The way the clerk smiled at Laura left him uneasy, nervous. The awkward silence of a stalled conversation filled the room, and Jack grabbed Laura’s elbow and began ushering her to the door.

  “That ain’t your car out there, is it, Jack?”

  Jack froze for a minute, and then turned back. “No, it’s a rental.”

  “Thought so. You just like pretending for a bit, huh? Good place to do it. This country lets you be John Wayne for a day if you got the money. Is that what you’re doing, Jack? Being John Wayne?” Colten’s black eyes looked Jack up and down as if examining his soul through his skin. He squinted as he took another drag of his smoke, exhaling it into the empty shop.

  “What do you know of it?” Jack lashed back.

  A look of horror flashed across Laura’s face.

  “I know a bit. See it every once in a while.” Colten waved his hand, shooing the smoke from the ashtray away from his face. “You two be careful now, the desert can be strange at times. Wouldn’t want any trouble to come to you good city folk.”

  The silence returned, Jack and Colten locking eyes like two roosters in a pecking contest.

  “We’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Outside the store, Jack pushed Laura to the car, and both got in. He was sweating and his heart was racing. His mind was trying to convince him that he was keeping himself from jumping the counter and punching the stranger, but deep down inside he knew it was fear.

  Intimidation.

  He hated that. He hated being intimidated. He hated it worse that he had allowed himself to be.

  “What was that all about?” Laura asked, visibly upset at her husband’s behavior.

  “Just some local redneck trying to be tough.”

  “I thought he was just being polite.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure you’re not the one with the problem?”

  Jack stared back at her, ready to unleash the anger that he was too scared to let loose on Colten, but he checked himself. Why ruin the trip. Laura looked at him but didn’t push it. He started the car and they headed west in silence along the two-lane road toward the mountains.

  2

  Intimidated. The word swirled through Jack’s mind as they drove. He hated the feeling. He hated feeling immobilized by the posture of other people. From as far back as he could remember, he felt that way. Growing up, Jack admired the kids who would react, take charge, grasp the stick they were being beaten with, and turn the tables.

  He thought about a little kid he knew in grade school named Dylan.

  Dylan was a small kid but had the courage of a lion. There was one time on the recess yard when an older kid pushed Dylan down during a kickball game. Dylan got up, and even though he was only half his size, he pounced on the bully and bloodied his lip. When he was taken to the principal’s office, rumor had it that Dylan told the principal to do his job properly so he wouldn’t have to do it for him.

  Adults don’t really take to kids talking like this, and Dylan was rewarded with a three-day suspension. When he came back to school, he was a minor celebrity, one that Jack’s mother said he couldn’t hang out with anymore.

  Jack’s thoughts drifted back to the gas station. He worked up the script in his mind and mulled it over and over again, trying to get the scene with the most dramatic flair.

  Take 1. Action.

  Jack walks up to the counter and puts his supplies down.

  “You getting gas?”

  “Does it look like I’m getting gas, you white trash piece of . . . ,” he would say as he reached over, grabbed the back of Colten’s head, and slammed it down on the counter. “Now bag this up before I get angry.”

  Jack smiled. That would have been good.

  Take 2. Rolling.

  Laura walks in from the restroom.

  “Howdy, miss. Beautiful day, ain’t it?” Colten would say.

  “You talking to her? Keep your eyes off her, you white trash . . .” and again with the head slam to the counter.

  Meanwhile, Laura had turned in her seat and was looking at him. “What are you thinking about over there?”

  “Nothing,” he said, wiping the grin off his face.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Just thinking is all.”

  “Well, talk to me.”

  “All right, what do you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The silence returned.

  And with that, Jack went back to working out the scenes in his head. Always back to the head slam to the counter. Yes, the head slam would definitely be the way to go.

  3

  Colten looked out the window of the convenience store and watched the blue Mustang spit rock as it roared away. He felt nothing. No seething hatred, no delayed viciousness. He just wished Jack to die.

  Simple. Without thinking.

  “You really are a piece of work,” said the man at the counter.

  Seth.

  He was dressed in a black button-down shirt with pearl buttons, tucked into vintage western jeans. An ornate silver buc
kle attached just below his abs. Seth looked the part of the evil cowboy in a Sergio Leone film, minus the hat. He was grizzled from the sun, lean and mean. Black hair greased back, much like Colten’s, his pale white scalp peeking just past the hairline.

  “Huh?”

  “Just sayin’.”

  “Guy like that, car like that . . . due a beatdown if ever I saw one,” Colten said.

  “You can’t tear ’em all down.”

  “Wish I could.”

  “Just your part.”

  “All right.”

  “Forget him. You got other things to think about.”

  Colten turned, grabbed the butt from the ashtray, took a long hard toke, and blew the smoke through the man. “Don’t you worry, I got things taken care of.”

  Seth seemed unfazed by the toxic smog surrounding him. He could see fresh scratch marks on Cole’s neck as he turned. “She do that to you?” he asked with a half smirk.

  Cole brought his hand up and massaged the wound. “Let’s just say this one’s got a little bit of fire in her.”

  “Really?”

  “Like I said, I got it taken care of.”

  “You got things taken care of? Ha! What do you know about getting things taken care of?” Seth said.

  “I know enough. Got her locked up there right now.”

  Seth fingered the trinkets hanging from a spinner rack on the counter.

  “Why do you do this? Play around? Should have been over and done with. Moving on to the next one. There are always plenty more coming each day.”

  Another slow drag, the amber glow lighting Colten’s pupils. “This one’s too good to rush through. I want to enjoy it.”

  “Always the same with y’all. Not able to see the forest through the trees.” Seth stepped to the door but did not go out. He seemed to soak in the outside air by sucking in a deep breath. “Chaos, Cole. That’s what you’re working for. Don’t get hung up on this girl and forget yourself. Nothing compares to that last moment, when they realize that it’s over. That there’s no going home. That there’s nothing past that moment for them. You can string it along, thinking that you’re having fun, but each second that goes by, you’re leaving the door open for them. You do that, you’re liable to get yourself in a tough spot. You’re liable to mess it all up.”

  Another drag, another exhale. “Don’t lecture me, old man,” Colten said. “I’ve done this plenty of times.”

  Seth laughed to himself as he ran his hand through his hair. “All right, it’s your show. Just remember this: every second is a loose end. You keep horsing around, others might want to jump in, change your plans.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just sayin’. Keeping her out there like that, you never know who might be watching.”

  Colten extinguished the cig in the tray, reached down below the counter to grab a new pack, and was about to reply, but the man was gone.

  4

  After a while Jack and Laura managed to start chatting again. They made small talk as they admired the amazing views that they could not see at home: the valley floor butting up against mountain walls; the streaks of reds and tans that told the history of the world. The sun was in its full glory and the heat began to abuse the ground. They listened to the radio, Jack singing out the grunge hits from his high school days while Laura tried unsuccessfully to retune the dial. They finally settled on a classic rock station, and though the singer crooned about how sweet Alabama was, they took it as a fact that he had never come out west.

  Slowly the station turned to static until it was completely gone, forcing them to shut it off. They were on the moon, gently riding the road as it coasted over rolling hills of rock and sand.

  “We are in the boondocks now, huh?” Laura said.

  “Yup.”

  “You think this is a good idea? We haven’t seen another car for about half an hour.”

  “We’re fine. We picked up some snacks and water, and we got our cells.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  Jack grabbed her hand, which felt cool in the AC breeze. “Just a bit more. I want to see what’s past that hill.”

  That had always been Jack’s reason for everything. Never content with the present, he was always working for something beyond reach—one more degree, one more promotion, one bigger raise. One more hill. He explained it away as simple curiosity. She thought it was greed laced with ego. Always proving he was better.

  Ambition is truly blind. It leads to no end, only constant searching.

  Laura always went along with it. Even though the same mountains and valley peeked at them after each rise and fall, she held her tongue and let him do what he always did.

  Laura was everything Jack was not. It was the only way they could get along. She was not the high school cheerleader, nor was she the valedictorian. Laura just was. She was the woman you pass on the street, admiring her good looks as she walked by, then forgetting she was there after just a few steps. She blended into her surroundings, unnoticed. Too often she went unnoticed by Jack, but she trudged on, silently carrying her loneliness and taking what scraps he offered her.

  Twenty minutes down the road the car’s dash began to flicker and the engine began to hiccup.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good.” Jack eased off the gas and coasted to the side of the road. When the car settled into the gravel, the power went out.

  “Uh . . . dear?”

  Jack knew that tone. It was the I will appear patient, but you better get this fixed right now or you will suffer tone. He turned the key in the ignition but got no response. All the electrical was out, and the engine would not turn over.

  The silence in the car was amplified by the absolute nothingness of the desert.

  “Maybe it just got overheated. Let me take a look.”

  Jack popped the hood and got out. He was slapped by the hot air as he opened his door, the radiation from the asphalt shooting through the soles of his sandals.

  He gazed at the engine, but didn’t know what he was looking for to begin with. He hoped that just by the sheer strength of his stare he could will the car back to life. After masquerading for a couple of minutes, he got back in the car and tried the starter again. Nothing.

  “All right,” he said, “let me call a tow.”

  Jack pulled his iPhone out and looked at the screen. No power.

  “Well, that’s weird. I charged this thing last night.”

  Laura grabbed her cell from her purse. Same issue. “Uh . . . dear?”

  Again with that same tone. Jack’s mind started racing for solutions. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere with not another soul in sight. The last sign of civilization was the town of Goodwell, and that had been a couple hours ago.

  He decided to walk back up the road to the top of the hill. Before opening the door, he reached into the bag on the floor and grabbed two of the waters, handing one to Laura.

  “I’m going to walk back there a little ways, see if I can see anything. You stay here.”

  She didn’t argue with him.

  Jack walked up the slow grade almost a half mile behind the car as the heat from the blacktop made his feet sweat and warmed his calves.

  He looked back now and then at the car parked on the side of the road. With each step it appeared more and more insignificant in the great landscape around him. A small bit of metallic blue reflecting, shimmering like a watch in a sunbeam’s path.

  “Well, Jack, what are you going to do about this?” he said to himself. “It’s hot, nobody around. Not good. Should have just stayed at the hotel.”

  When he finally crested the small hill, he had chugged almost his whole bottle of water and felt dizzy. After catching his breath, he stared out into a sandy sea of nothingness. Rolling rocks and blue, cloudless sky was all that caught his vision. He hoped for the subtle reflection of a car, or a tin roof trailer nestled among the cactus, but all he saw was desert.

  The road they had come in on ran away from him int
o oblivion. Turning 360, the view did not change at all. They were stuck with no chance of help but what might come driving down the two-lane. He pulled the phone from his pocket again. The touchscreen was still unresponsive.

  His mind began to race. An empty road could bring anything.

  Jack envisioned a painted Indian in a dune buggy, wielding a sawed-off shotgun, bounding over the distant ridge followed by a stampede of Thunderdomers searching for fuel and slaves. Only problem was, he wasn’t Mad Max and he knew it.

  Or worse, he thought of a dusty black pickup cresting a distant butte and driving full force toward him. Colten, the hick gas pumper, exacting back-country vengeance on a city boy and stealing his girl. That was more of a reality, and it sent a pang of fear through his chest. He could practically hear the banjos playing in symphony through the mountain peaks behind him.

  He shook off the visions. This wasn’t a movie. This was real life, this was what did I do to us reality.

  He stared back at the rental car, wondering what he was going to say to Laura when he got back. What could he say to his wife after he had driven them into an oven and slammed the door? He thought himself lucky that it was a half mile walk to the car. At the least, he tried to appreciate the absence of sound on his way back.

  5

  Loneliness is the acute sensation of realizing that you are on nobody’s mind.

  Of being the unneeded X factored out of all equations.

  Laura stared out the windshield. The road ran off out of sight, disappearing into the horizon, mesmerizing in its seemingly magical disappearance.

  Alone.

  She thumbed her wedding ring in absentminded play, the sweat beginning to seep out of her skin, causing the band to roll freely around her finger. She looked at it, its jewel sparkling, shining in the rays streaming through the glass.

  At different times through the years she thought of it as her disengagement ring. A symbol that marked the last day Jack pursued her. Focused his attention on her. Prioritized her.

  This trip was another vain attempt to rekindle something, anything.

  Her eyes scanned the vast expanse of sky surrounding her. There it was: her loneliness personified in earthly form.