Road trip

“Holy hell!”

Blake laughed nervously and buzzed down the driver’s side window.

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“Sorry,” he said. “But you scared the shit out of me.”

“Well,” Dana said, “You can’t get a higher compliment than that. Anyway, I was just wondering if the offer to ride with you still stood.”

With all the cars lined up as people tried to evacuate the city, it was just a stroke of luck that Blake and Dana had made eye contact and struck up a conversation a few minutes earlier.

“Absolutely,” said Blake. “But don’t you have a suitcase or something?”

Dana nodded.

“Actually, I had it sent ahead so it’s already at my friend’s apartment in Douglas,” she said. “Everything else is in my backpack. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to put it in the trunk.”

Blake popped the trunk open and placed the backpack on top of his suitcase. He then walked around the side of the car and opened the door for Dana.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can get it.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Blake said. “This door sticks, so, you know …”

Blake was nervous – it was hard to tell who to trust anymore – but he had a gut feeling that Dana was a kindred spirit. As they settled into the vehicle, he gripped the steering wheel and pulled off onto a side road … acutely aware that his palms were sweaty.

And while he made a point not to stare at Dana – which would’ve been a bad idea anyway because of that whole driving thing – she had beautiful brown eyes that seemed capable of actually smiling.

Her skin was eggshell white and she smelled of patchouli, which he thought of as something of a “comfort scent” since it reminded him of his home in Clearlake.

With miles and miles of talking ahead of them, that seemed to be as good a conversation starter as any.

“Is that patchouli you’re wearing?” Blake asked. “I’m not trying to be pervy or anything, it’s just back home there was a guy who made patchouli soap and used to sell it downtown during weekends. It reminds me of fall.”

“Thanks,” she said. “A lot of people don’t like it … it makes them think I’m a hippie or something. Which maybe I am now, I don’t really know. Probably doesn’t even matter at this point.”

“I secretly always wanted to be a hippie,” Blake said. “I could just never commit to the lifestyle, I suppose. Still, there’s a lot to be said for getting high and hugging trees and kissing bunnies. I wish those things were still an option.”

It wasn’t long before Blake realized talking to Dana was like talking to an old friend he had just reconnected with after years apart. And she seemed to enjoy the banter as well. With some of his friends already captured and killed, it was comforting to find an adventurous spirit.

In the first 100 miles of their journey, the vast majority of the country’s problems had already been cussed and discussed. When the topics turned less serious, Blake shared the origin story of all of his pets, and Dana had confessed that – while in her mid-20s – she was the lead singer for a retro punk band called Spurious George.

What had started as a solo road trip to a new life was solo no more, but Blake had no complaints. He could barely remember the last time he’d had a conversation with a woman. Hell, he could barely remember the last time he had a conversation with anything that wasn’t covered in fur and had four legs.

“So, what was it like where you were,” Blake asked. “Had they taken over your entire town?”

“Pretty much,” Dana said. “They’d come in waves. I usually stayed inside during the day, snuck out when I could at night to get food. Then – like you, I guess – I just figured I’d take a chance. If I went north, maybe I could get away from them. That’s what I kept hearing.”

“Same,” Blake said. “Where I was, a lot of the people decided to go along to get along and sometimes you might go a whole day without seeing one of those bastards. But I’m not gonna live like that. I realize I don’t have all that many sunrises left, anyway, but I have no desire to be controlled by monsters the rest of my life.”

The pair drove in silence for the next hour, until Dana pointed to a road sign that read, “Douglas. 30 Miles.”

“Well,” Dana said. “If you stay at this speed, we should be at my friend’s apartment  in half an hour. And it really looks like clear sailing, doesn’t it? It’s just like everyone was saying … the further north we drive, the further away from danger we get.”

Blake was apprehensive, but hopeful. While information was spotty and not always reliable, there was a good chance that once they reached Douglas, they’d be out of harm’s way and have easy access to the hundreds of rescue crafts that were situated there.

At that point, it would all be up to the aliens – and how many humans they’d be willing to liberate from the occupying army.

One thought on “Road trip”

  1. I don’t read much but I got ahold of a Spider Robinson short sci-fi stories book several years ago which I enjoyed. Some of your stories remind me of his.

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