Page 4 of All Our Ghosts

Smoke billows from under the hood of my ’63 Mercury Comet. I’m honestly surprised I’ve made it through 3,078 miles, countless tanks of gas, horrible fast-food stops, and plenty of traffic. My backseat is filled with what’s left of my belongings after selling the townhome and most of its contents along with it. My entire life reduced down to two suitcases and this car.

“Shit,” I mutter, carefully pulling to the side of the road and flipping on the hazard lights. I know that white smoke typically means the radiator needs water. This smoke isn’t white and definitely doesn’t smell good either.

I check the side mirror before climbing out of the vehicle and popping the hood. I walk around to the front of the vehicle, propping the hood up, only to be met with a dark cloud of smoke. I cough and wave my hand in front of my face stumbling back to catch a breath of fresh air.

“Goddamnit.” Turning I look up and down the two-lane highway. There is nothing but desert and a few lone trees oneither side of the road. It doesn’t help that I don’t remember the last time I’d seen a sign marking any sort of life in the future.

Slipping my phone from my pocket, I sigh.No Servicestares back at me. We have electric cars, billionaires going to space, but shitty cell service in one of the most populated states in the US. Go figure.

I lean against the driver’s door, hoping for someone to pass by. The heat is already creating small beads of sweat on my forehead. I pull open my door, leaning over the seat to grab a bottle of water. Climbing back out of the car, I twist the cap off, chugging half the bottle before tossing it back through the window, keeping my eye on the road for anyone willing to stop and help me.

Two hours go by without seeing more than a few cars. I try waving them down, but instead, I’m met with a glare and tail lights. Each dismissal only makes the pit in my stomach grow larger and it doesn’t get any better when the sun starts to set. I won’t be able to see shit in the pitch-black night.

There are bigger things for me to be scared of though. Darkness is only temporary, and if I had to sleep in my car on the side of the road in whatever hell hole I drove myself into, I would. Anything is better than staying in Miami.

I climb back into the Comet, stretching out across the seat. My stomach rumbles softly as I try to get even the tiniest bit comfortable. I reach onto the floorboard, rummaging through the sack of snacks I bought three hundred miles ago. Whatever I pull from this bag will have to do until I can figure out what to do, but as I lift my hand, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“Donuts for dinner it is then,” I sigh, pulling open the wrapper and stuffing one in my mouth. Another car passes by. Hearing it at the last second, I sit up with a mouth full of donut, glancingout of the back window and groaning before plopping back down into the seat.

A gust of wind passes through the car and a slight breeze slips through the cracks of the doors and windows. I love this car, but it's old and a part of me is surprised that it even made it across country in the first place. The man I bought it from was old enough to be my grandfather and I got the impression he bought it brand new off the lot. It’s definitely well taken care of other than whatever is going on with the engine, but even I can appreciate the amount of care he’s put into it for sixty years.

I reach into the backseat, unzipping my bag to try and find something to keep me warm. As I move clothes around, my gaze lands on the ear of the stuffed giraffe. It’s the only thing I took from the house other than my clothes and photographs from my childhood. Everything else I left. I have no interest in keeping any strings attached to my past life. It had been easy saying goodbye to that house. In fact, leaving that town was the easiest decision I ever made. The moment my eyes landed on that giraffe on my last walk through of the house, I couldn’t leave it. Not to that house. I couldn’t let it become another skeleton left to rot there alongside the painted safari animals.

I swallow the small lump growing in my throat as I grab my ratty University of Miami sweatshirt, quickly zipping the bag closed again. I shrug the sweatshirt over my head and shoulders. The black tank top and jeans I’m wearing do little to keep me warm as the night takes over. Settling into the seat I make sure the doors are locked, windows up, and the small, folded pocket knife I stole from Jeremy is tucked close by before curling back into the seat.

The stillness of the night starts to seep into the car around me in a shroud of fleeting comfort. The quiet, combined with knowing that he is thousands of miles away, unable to touch me, unable to convince everyone else I was the villain, had my eyesclosing and soon the bucket seat of the Comet felt more safe than anything else right now.

I wake to what feels like sunshine beaming into the rear window of the car. My eyes peel open slightly and for a moment, I try to remember where I am and why it feels like God himself is pissing sunlight into my eyes.

Tap, tap, tap.

The noise coming from behind me makes me fly up out of my lying position to curl into the other side of the car. My breath catches in my throat as I grip the pocket knife in my hand. My eyes land on the source of the noise. A figure standing outside my window with hands up in mock surrender and wide eyes. Medium-length, sandy-blond locks brush over his cheeks as he leans down to my view.

We stare at each other for a moment before his hands come down to lean against the car.

“Ma’am, do you need help?” He asks, his voice muffled by the thin glass.

I glance around quickly, my eyes scanning the area, only to realize I had been asleep long enough for night to consume the land around me. I can’t see anything past the glare of his headlights.

“Miss?” The man asks again, his voice laced with concern.

My eyes meet his, my fingers white-knuckling around the knife in my pocket. His thick brows are furrowed, mouth set in a firm line under the gray patched beard.

“My car broke down…” I say, watching as he nods, glancing toward my still-open hood. “It started smoking and won’t crankover now,” I say with a shrug to try to hide the anxiety clawing at my throat. Ocean-blue eyes peer back at me, glowing in the darkness.

“I got a call about a car abandoned on the highway… Guess no one actually checked to see if anyone was inside.” He chuckles. “I can tow you into town if you want?”

I look back, realizing the lights my eyes are currently trying to battle are spotlights of a tow truck, its crane illuminated by the tail lights below it. My heart still races from him scaring me awake and my grip is still firm around the folded blade.

“How far is town?” I ask.

“About 30 miles, that direction,” he says, pointing towards the direction I was headed in the first place. I follow the direction of his finger, glancing down the roadway again. “I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you're worried about.”

I won’t hurt you.

I’ve heard that before.

My gaze flicks back to his own. I can only imagine what I look like right now. Eyes wide, the vein in my neck pulsing with my heartbeat. I probably look like a caged wild animal. But even still, I don't miss the sincerity in his voice and the soft look he gives me makes me believe him.

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