She was fucked, basically; two days to
go and not a single inch closer to Newport. She hated that she
thought in inches – the old, archaic measurements of the past had
been long outdated by the metric system and she well knew that and
had grown up favouring decimals – but she couldn't help it.
Something about the inch, an inch, the word itself, sounded poetic
and subtle, as if the simple act of saying she wasn't a single inch
closer made real her predicament, and would somehow inspire
motivation in her to move. She repeated it over to herself again,
“not a single inch closer, not a single inch closer, I'm no closer,
not one single inch... fucked, fucked, absolutely fucked...” She
was muttering.
The road stretched out ahead of her,
and no helpful vehicles were approaching up its long, narrow length,
this final semi was definitely her last chance. Time to wait a
second, maybe two, before approaching, but any hesitation would be
sniffed out immediately so it was imperative – completely and
without question – that she act fast, act now. She picked up her
bag.
“Excuse me!” her voice was sucked
up by the dusty air and soon drowned out by the silence around her,
so she began to walk forwards, but still tentative and careful in her
approach.
“Excuse me! Sir! Excuse me?” no trace of her
anxiety could be allowed to seep into the next sentence or the whole
thing would be finished and she might as well turn around and walk
back to the city that dwindled in the distance behind her. His head
turned, not a pretty head, or even a welcoming one, and two startled
flies flew off his cap and zipped off above the tin roof. Here it
was, “Here it is.” – her internal monologue shoving one last
jolt of encouragement up her spine before finally delivering the five
words she'd been storing up and preparing for this one crucial
moment. The time for backing out had passed, and she welled up all of
the air inside her lungs before measuring out six even syllables in
about two and a half seconds of pure terror:
“Mind if I ride along?”
“Sure love, jump on up there with
me.” He said it, and she stood there for a second while the sound
passed between them as if she'd been struck by a brick. The flies
were about to land down on her bag as she jolted out of her trance
and quickly sealed their official agreement, “uuuuh... thanks.”
And without waiting for his final nod, she started scaling the stairs
and threw her bag at her feet in the cabin of the dirty machine.
She settled down and waited for him to
finish his pit-stop; now she finally had time to calm herself in
silence. Looking around for the first time at her surroundings, she
saw all that there was to see – and it wasn't very much to begin
with – was covered in tiny red particles. The desert sand was
all-encompassing, pervasive, and seemed to swallow any object past
the middle distance except the long, thin road that stretched out in
front. The sky was an angry yellow-white with the sun still setting
in the west and the world was deathly still and silent. Winds were
blowing sand around the floor. The petrol station where she had been
sitting for the last day and a half was already like a foreign world
painted onto the window, rather than the unfortunate outpost of
civilization that served as a refuelling depot to interstate
travellers. She did not recognize a single detail, and hoped soon to
forget even the location of this hopeless little point, with its
lifeless tin roof and its shade bereft of shelter. “Finally, we're
away,” she said, again to herself, and she picked her bag up from
the spot she had put it at first and clutched it to her chest,
drawing it closer and waiting for her driver to join them. A day and
a half – the unhappy stagnation.
She heard a sound like quick rattling
coming from around the back of the cab, the tank was full and he was
shaking the last drops of petrol from the metal hose – the last
drops we all shake out, whenever we are given the opportunity. “Cost
effective,” she mused, “is it cheating the system to milk those
last droplets, or is the system cheating you if you don't?” She
didn't have time to pursue the idle thought any further, because the
driver's side door opened, and the cabin filled momentarily with wind
and chill before once again sealing them off from the world. He
started the engine. The truck roared to life. The ground started to
move and the giant beast lurched forwards. Two days left, and
finally, just an inch closer to Newport.
***
Her eyes opened up sharp as she snapped
out of her dream like a child's hand recoiling from a flame. The
world flooded back.
“What's the time?” the words came
scrambled out of her mouth. She wasn't sure who she was saying them
to.
“Just past four in the morning”,
he said – the truckdriver. He didn't turn his head from the wheel,
but every now and then his eyes were glancing up at the rear-view
mirror which was tilted in her direction. It struck her that the
centre mirror in a truck is superfluous, as the trailer would always
obscure the view from behind, even if there was a good-sized window
in the back. The thought struck her from side on, and it seemed
somehow important, so she held on to it as a piece of trivia for the
future. She remembered her conversation with the driver before she
had fallen asleep, although she was unsure at what point she had
trailed off.
His name was D... or 'Dee'? That was
all he had said; she was definitely not mistaken in the pronunciation
as she had made sure to memorise it the first time it had been told
to her, mostly out of politeness.
“Dee”, she muttered to herself.
“It's Dee.” She was always muttering.
“That's the one.” He replied, eyes
darting up to the mirror for a second.
She began to recall their
conversation in detail, the six or seven minutes of it before she had
fallen away into sleep, and she remembered that he had made a good
impression on her. He was gruff and brisk with his words, but not
angry or reserved, just efficient. The truck had been like a cradle,
slowly rocking her back and forth as it shuddered with the bumpy road
and churned under its own weight and momentum. Back and forth. Back
and forth. One way with the wind. The other way with the slope of the
road. She had realized so suddenly that she was unbearably tired, and
while it would have been nicer to stay awake and keep this man
company while he drove – and truly, he was her saving grace – she
could not bear it. Sleep.
The truck had ploughed on, past the
sunset, and on into the night. She had told him she was going to
Newport and he didn't ask why, he didn't need to, she needn't have
even told him that much – he could have guessed. She was asleep by
the time the sun was down, and the time in the cabin had passed
quicker without the sun beating on the road in front of them. Dee had
been silent with his hands on the wheel and allowed her all the rest
she needed. Now she was awake, and she spoke, not to herself this
time, but directly to him;
“Did I sleep for long?”
“Around eight hours”, he replied
briskly, his voice was immediately clear and crisp and stood out
amongst the other noises coming from the engine and the mass of metal
behind them.
“Eight hours...” she repeated to
herself, “I'm sorry for not staying awake to keep you company”,
she looked over to him as she apologised, and waited for him to say
something back. He just smiled, and flashed his eyes up to the mirror
while she looked at him directly. They were looking at eachother,
although because of this triangular arrangement, their eyes never
actually met.
“How long were you waiting at that
petrol station?” he asked her later.
“A day and a night or thereabouts, I
caught the bus out from town.”
“And which town would that
be?” Dee asked this fair enough question abruptly but it seemed odd
to her that as she ventured out of Hampstead her safe, cosy identity
could be left at home with her old life behind her.
“I came from Hampstead”, she
answered, smiling to herself as she realised her potential for
anonymity.
“Me too,” Dee replied, “stayed there 'till I was
old enough to read a map.” His eyes stayed steady on the road as he
said this, the cab was quiet for a second – was that a joke? She
thought quickly to herself that if he had meant what he'd said to be
funny, then he might have laughed at it himself to indicate so... but
then again he had a way of talking that seemed as if he might be one
to let something like that slip by as if it were an accident that he
had ever said it at all. A wry smile appeared at the corner of his
lips as he saw her mind ticking over; “laugh if you want, it's only
the truth.” He had seen through her uneasiness instantly, and that
set her back in her seat and made her comfortable.
“Do you pick up many travellers on
the road?” she asked him after another break.
“Every now and then – if a person
asks, I'll take them as far as I can.”
“Not many people I've met would have
the heart to pick up a traveller off the road like this. Someone
they've never met before, never even laid eyes on – most people I
know would be pretty afraid of that.”
“Maybe you just haven't met many
people yet.” he offered back to her, his eyes lazily drifting back
up to the mirror to look at her, it definitely wasn't a question, he
was telling her plainly. “The way I see it, if someone's asking for
a lift, then they're always gonna give someone who comes to them
asking something the same courtesy they asked for.”
“Well yeah, maybe that's...”
“Maybe they're asking out of
humility, or maybe out of desperation, but either way, if someone's
asking for help, then you can be sure that they'd never turn their
back on someone they found in a similar position.” This time his
words hung on the cabin for a while, she wanted to let him finish his
answer properly and felt sorry for interrupting the first
time.
“...and I guess everyone needs help from somebody at some
point...” she chimed in after she judged that enough time had
passed.
“Exactly,” he nodded. “It'd be a dead, unfeeling
wretch who could accept help with one hand, and refuse it to his
fellow man with the other – I've never met anyone that cold
inside.”
“Maybe you just haven't met many people yet.” she
said with a wry smile creeping across her dry lips. She saw the
corner of Dee's mouth rise a little too, and she smiled more at
seeing this. She liked the way his face looked, and she was proud of
having made him smile for a second. The truck and it's heavy wheels
pulled the road underneath them like a conveyor belt. The sky stood
still and the sun burned overhead while the two companions sat
comfortably in eachother's company.
***
After another long while and
a pit stop and a small flock of birds in the distance they came to
the place where the desert meets the sea. The sun was setting, and
the truck turned North and followed the coast up towards the apex of
the peninsula; Dee would be leaving her there while he headed inland,
Newport lay to the West, just one more day across the desert. She
looked back over to him and cocked her head to the side before asking
him another question.
“When was the last time you picked
someone up in your truck?” She wished she could have phrased it
better after it came out, she thought it had sounded clumsy and
stupid.
“A few weeks ago I had
two boys, a couple brothers, sitting where you are now. They talked
and talked about their plans for Newport, the summer and the women
they were looking for. I set them off by the train station because
they said they wanted to try and jump a freighter going across East.
Funny boys, but stupid, I'd say they made it over alright though.
Then there was another lady a few days before that, heading back East
after losing herself. She'd been over in Newport but she said she'd
grown tired of it all... I can't say whether she was telling the
truth or not, but she wasn't staying gone for good, no way. She was
going back, I could feel it. Everyone goes back. No one can ever stay
away.”
“What's it like?” She
asked him.
“You'll see.” He smiled again, the same smile as
before, and nodded his head to the mirror. “I'll be back there
myself before long no doubt... just for now though I like to live
through the people I meet on the road, out here in the desert. It's
nice to put your life on hold for a second, and appreciate the joy in
someone else's eyes as they head out and search for their own
happiness.”
“I imagine it is, but I
can't say I'm...”
“The part of your story
that you share here with me, you'll carry that with you now, for as
far as your journey takes you I'll be there as a tiny character. I
have no way of knowing where all the people I meet end up, and maybe
some of them don't end up too well, who knows what happens to you as
soon as you get out of this truck... but it's nice to think that out
there in the world there are a few people who can remember the guy
who picked them up when they needed a hand, held them a while and
then set them loose, back into the empty world.”
“I guess that means
you're not so selfless then.” She quipped straight away and eyed
him from the side again. She felt his eyes looking at her in the
mirror like they had been for most of their conversation, and this
time finally brought up the courage to peel her eyes away from the
side of his face and meet his gaze in the reflection. They stared for
a second. Two seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty-five. Someone blinked,
and then the moment was broken.
She retreated back into
herself after this, and although the mood in the cabin was still
good-natured and pleasant, the unsteady suspicion rose within her
that this man was not as calm, as perfect, as simple as he had
initially seemed. 'Why should he get to ride the glory of other
people's accomplishments?' she questioned. 'Why should I
suffer and toil to reach my pinnacle when he can simply offer lifts
and stand there with me for free?'
She felt cheated somehow, she knew she shouldn't be feeling
resentful, but something about his peaceful solitude threatened her.
She had steeled herself with tough resolve to be ready for every
trial that she knew her new life would have ready for her, and she
was prepared to face each challenge head on. Greatness only comes
through hardship, and yet this man expected to share in others'
greatness, without also bearing a share of their pain. The idea
repulsed her and seemed parasitic, but she resolved to put it out of
her mind. She softened, and then, after realising her harshness,
almost pitied him. He would never know the glory of truly achieving a
goal, of suffering through the greatest ordeals only to come out the
other side and beat them. To be crowned lord of everything, and rise
above impossibility. To live. In her mind it was inevitable – the
sky was where she was headed.
***
When
they pulled in to the train station she slowly stirred from where she
had been, propped up against the door half sleeping. Grabbing her bag
from between her legs where it had lay in the shade, away from the
burning sun, she checked it once to make sure nothing had fallen out.
It hadn't, she was ready to go.
“Thankyou again.” she smiled,
and looked up at the mirror to meet his gaze, only this time he had
ventured to look directly at her as the need to keep his eyes on the
road had vanished. She looked at his eyes in the mirror, and he saw
the side of her face in profile, once again their gazes never met,
and only after she turned away did he return her farewell.
“Good
luck.” the last words he offered her. By the time they reached her
ears she was already halfway out the door and jumping down the
ladder, the train she wanted to jump onto was getting ready to leave.
She had to make it, she refused to be caught waiting.
He
looked through the glass as she gathered speed and jogged, then ran
towards the depot, jumping the fence between the parking lot and the
track. She was impatient, but impatience was good, useful, he started
the engine again and turned the big hunk of metal around and back out
onto the road. Another story he could hold on to, he was part of
another victory. Or maybe another defeat, but either way, he had
played his part.
She ran
fast for the train, panting, pressing on. The weight of her bag was
not significant, but it swayed from side to side with her movement as
she swung her shoulders to steady herself while running. She held
onto the straps and tried to keep the swinging mass still. Full pelt,
maximum speed. The train shuddered first from the front way up ahead
but she saw it even as far as she was, as she ran she tried to pick
out a carriage to jump on to. Something covered but open where she
would be sheltered but not cramped. She couldn't sit on an exposed
flatbed, she would freeze to death – she needed an open container.
She could hear the clicking of the connectors between each carriage
get closer and closer together as the front end of the train edged
forward and each successive section was picked up. Clang, Clang,
Clang. They sounded out across the yards like a row of steel
dominoes. She spotted an open door and knew that this was her chance.
It was a little towards the back of the train, but if she kept on her
current trajectory, even if it was some way behind her when she
reached the tracks, she would easily be able to jump on.
She
reached the tracks, the open door drew up close until it was almost
level with her. She slowed her pace to draw even. Unhooked her bag
from around her shoulders and whipped over with her left arm, it
landed with a thud inside the dark, empty space. Something inside
there smelled and she winced internally, this was going to be a long
night devoid of sleep. She would reek of fertilizer on her first
night in Newport. Her right hand stretched out to grab onto
something, the edge of the train, her fingers reached around quickly
for a steady hold but none was there to grab on to. She stopped
looking at the ground, she couldn't, she had to watch her hand, to
look for something. Something to grab on to. She looked, but there
was nothing. Her left foot slipped on a loose rock, 'why
are train tracks always built on mounds of rocks?'
she thought, infuriated, muttering it to herself. She slipped again,
but her hand grabbed something. Yes! She could feel it! And the train
was going faster now, faster than she could run, and her feet were
completely away from the ground. Off the ground. Moving! Her left
hand struggled to join her right and her feet swung around to the
inside, in towards the spinning wheels and slowly accelerating
machinery. She clung on as the train kept speeding up, speeding up.
Much faster and faster and faster. Her legs lurched inwards again and
caught something. She swung her hand, another time, wildly,
frantically, desperately. Too late. Too slow. Too much ambition.
As she
was pulled under, her feet first before her body, the train kept
accelerating. It chewed her up indifferently and left her on the
tracks, remorseless. She never made it to Newport.