The long road through hell gets no easier. My breath becomes quick short gasps as if planet earth didn’t have a big enough supply of oxygen. I look up at the relentless bully called the sun and I wish to God I could fight back. I look back down and I see it; the building that could potentially hold my salvation about one hundred yard away. A big, bright blue sign that hung above it said simply, “Millies” as if that was all you needed to know about the place. I walk up to the featureless white building and survey the scene. A dead garden that may have once been beautiful now only decayed in the also dead wind. It was almost as if the place had once flourished with life and was blown away by a nuclear blast that had killed everything in its path. I sigh, hoping that there will be life forms inside the place that can help me with my problem. I push the door open and am immediately greeted by a blast of cool air that rushes to aid my body like a team of paramedics. I almost collapse of relief right in the doorway but regain my composure. The place has the look of those traditional split roadway stores. You know the ones with the restaurant on the left that has the overweight but sweet waitress who always thinks you look thin and the only cure is that you eat more food – Salesmanship at its finest. And on the right it has a store that has so much junk you don’t need for sale that you’d think they were in competition with Wal-Mart. I walk to the counter and am greeted by a pleasant looking (a.k.a. big and homely) lady in her mid-thirties. “What can we do for ya puddin’?” She says in a heavy southern accent. She shoots me a big homemade smile. I tell her I’ve just walked five miles and need some water. She gives me one of those feigned looks of horror as if she has never known people could walk distances longer than between the kitchen and the couch. She rushes me to a seat and brings me a pitcher of water. I tell her I’m ok I just need a few minutes. She tells me that I need to put some meat on my bones and suggests that I order the home-fried chicken fried steak. I smile to myself and tell her I’m ok for now. With another “puddin’” she walks off letting me know where to find her. I down another third of the pitcher of water and lean back to let the air-conditioning do its number on my sunburned body. I close my eyes and let my mind wander and there it is: that all too familiar sound that signals the entrance of that man in to my dreams. I start to hear the whistling.
The Man in the Black Trench Coat
His first full appearance that I remembered was that day at the crash and ever since then he has appeared to me in my dreams. Always statue still, always wearing that expression of reserved sorrow and always accompanied by that eerie whistling in the background as if it were his own personal theme music. He terrifies and angers me every time I see him. I know he has answers for the questions surrounding the crash. I know he knows something I don’t. I know he knows the things that I’m desperate to find out. Every time I sleep, he’s there waiting for me, like a teacher who is there for the student that tries so hard but just doesn’t understand what is being taught to him. Or like a serial killer waiting patiently for his prey to go right where he wants him. I can’t be sure. I can’t be positive about anything about the man in the black trench coat. I just know that he is not a natural being.
1 Year Ago
2:04 PM
The air was stale, stagnant as if nothing that occupied the space inside it did anything of value. How ironic, the air even reflected the truth. She went to the window and flung open the curtains to reveal a vast array of sunlight that cascaded over my sleeping body. I reluctantly stirred. I already had begun feel the headache coming on, that can only mean one thing – I had sobered up. I grunted and shielded my face from the onslaught of light. She was saying something, she’s not happy. Something about getting on with my life and I couldn’t wallow around like this. I wasn’t really listening. I wish I would have. Only one thing mattered: getting another drink in me so I could go back to sleep and demand answers from this man in the black trench coat. She sighed a sigh of giving up and headed for the door. I mumbled something that was supposed to be an “I love you.” And she shot me a look. God I should have paid attention to those pained looks! The looks that said “I’ve lost what I loved” but I didn’t pay attention. I just needed another drink so I could get back to sleep, back to discovering the answer to all the unsolved riddles. Why did God allow the bus to kill a bunch of teenagers going to worship him? Why did God allow the lives of kids to be taken at all? Does he even care about us? Why is God allowing me to be like this now? He never blinked, he never answered and he never opened his mouth. He just stood with a supernatural amount of patience as if waiting for me to figure it out on my own. I wasn’t figuring anything out and he wasn’t helping! So there I was screaming, cursing, crying. He just stood there. He didn’t move. He never moves.
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I open my eyes and blink to remind myself where I am. I flag down my waitress and order a piece of blueberry cobbler. She smiles a satisfied smile as if she knew that I would come around. “Have it right out for ya honey.” She says. Wow! Me ordering food upgraded me to “Honey” status in her mind. A few minutes later she returned with a piece of delicious smelling cobbler. As she set it in front of me I ask her if she knows of any mechanics around the area. She says her son is an experienced mechanic and he was out back and as soon as I was finished I could go talk to him. I thank her and resume eating my delicious dessert. My head was spinning from exhaustion. I tell myself that the day is far from over. I still need to get my car fixed and make it to my destination before nightfall. I finish my plate and stand up to make my way out back. I walk out back in to the heat and walk around back to where the garage was said to be. There I find a kid, no older than twenty years old and surprisingly clean cut and sharp looking, listening to his IPod and reading a magazine. I laugh at the irony of a kid living in the middle of nowhere even knowing what an IPod was. He sees me and stands right up as if he’d been itching for something to do. “Howdy there sir, ah sure hope there is something ah can do for you. Ah been bored outta mah mind sittin here reading this here magazine.” Ah, the powers of perception never fail. I tell him what had happened with the car. He asks me a few questions. He seemed to know what he was talking about. About fifteen minutes later he tells me that there is a part that my car needs and its about an hour each way to get it. I tell him I’ll wait in the diner. I’ve never seen someone more excited to get some work than this kid. He grins a huge grin, shakes my hand, and hops in his truck. I make my way back inside the diner, grab my familiar seat for whose table now had a fresh pitcher of water on it, and lean back again to rest…
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