The Retort

Waking Dreams

Wed November 11th, 2009 by Kyla Mollett Of The Retort Staff

An unidentifiable vehicle sped down a quiet highway. The road curved with the geography of the land; the car drifted around the corners with ease. The earth was, for the most part, flat, being that it was Montana territory. The occasional rocky structure rolled by where shrubbery tried to grow and tumble weeds accumulated. The sun was bright on the horizon and illuminated every physical attribute of this dry, barren country. The rubber of the tires grabbed the asphalt and hurled the vehicle forward toward the setting sun.

There was a middle-aged man, around his late thirties, in the passenger seat, and a young woman behind the wheel, possible teens, or very young twenties. The man was in a sickening condition of filth: his skin sunken in around his bones, a slight tint of greenish-gray, with his eyes bulged out behind the dark circles on his ghostly white face, clothing torn, dulled with dirt and grime. He had what seemed like years of grimy buildup under his fingernails, and his teeth, what he had left of them, were slowly decaying, chipping away, turning multitudes of unnatural colors, creating a stench from his mouth that was something like death. His features were very rough, and if he would have been a healthy man, perhaps stocky. His hair was about shoulder-length and full of lice and knots; a dirty blonde color. His face was covered in craters in which he had been digging in, and he had dried streams of blood that had trickled down his features.

The woman had deep blackened holes around her bloodshot eyes, suggesting she hadn’t slept for many months. She was nude and her chest revealed large infected gashes in between her visible rib cage. Her skin was pulled very tight over every bone; her body was fragile, her collar bone protruding out of a thin layer of ghostly skin. Her face had a few pockmarks scattered here and there, and she had scratches that began at her forehead and passed over her eyelashes down to her cheeks until they ended at the base of her neck. She was missing a few front teeth, and had bruises around her mouth, suggesting that she had been beaten. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and she had a large crack down the middle of her bottom lip, which was dry and beginning to crust. Her fingernails were long and jagged, broken, with chipped blue fingernail polish. Her stringy, thinning hair was gray with dirt and sweat; perhaps it was once light blonde.

The nutrients seemed to have dissolved from their bodies long before this trip. They seemed to be using all of their energy to breathe and stay awake, so they stayed silent. The car had no radio, so the only thing audible was the wind whistling through the cracks in the windshield. The sun sank below the horizon of corn and hay, and the air immediately began to chill. The car headlights were very dim, only bright enough to see a few feet ahead, yet the woman seemed to speed up.

Who is this man sitting next to me? I can smell him rotting. Is he dead? No, I think I can hear him breathing. How long has he been there next to me? I don’t remember picking him up.

“Why are you in my car?”

The man was silent. Can he hear me? Oh my God, maybe he is dead. What if I killed him? Is that why I am driving out into the country? Am I going to bury this man? I don’t remember doing it. Why would I kill a man I do not even know? Now I must run for the rest of my life in fear! In exile! Oh God, what if he had a family? Children! Oh Lord what I have done, please forgive me I know not what I do! Oh Lord, please don’t be dead. Please.

“Why are you in my car?”

The woman’s voice was shrill. Her chest swelled, and her eyes began to pour with tears.

“Why are you in my car?”

Her voice was now a low, sobbing whisper, muffled by the tears. No response. The anxiety spilled out onto every inch of her body, she began to shake.

No this can’t be true! He can’t be a dead man! I would never kill another man, it’s not true. He’s lying to me. I know it. He probably has a gun and held me up, forcing his way inside my car. The fucker probably gave me this black eye! He is probably going to rape me when he wakes up and kill me and try and bury my lifeless corpse in this wasteland. What nerve this man had to fall asleep in my car. She strapped on her seatbelt.

“Why are you in my car!”

The woman slammed on the brakes, and the man’s body was hurled forward. His face cracked on the dashboard, and in a sudden fit of panic he had lurched his arms outwards, resulting in one of his fists through the cracked windshield of the car. The vehicle made something like a three hundred and sixty degree rotation in the middle of the highway, startled the young woman, causing her to panic and try to redirect. She took them over the edge of the road, ending their high speed carnival ride act at the roots of a large oak tree. Her headlights flickered, and then died out.

She came to immediately. It was so dark, and quiet. Her heartbeat faltered as panic pulsed throughout her body. Her face felt numb on the left side, and she could feel a cold liquid dripping down her neck. Her head suddenly pulsed, she felt pressure on her retinas and her body went cold and stiff. There was a rustling in the tall grass on the passenger side of the vehicle. Then the man’s face became bright as day, with a huge grin upon his bloody and mangled features. She awoke screaming, blood trickling down her chin. There was still a sharp pain, now slowly moving to the back of her skull. She opened her eyes and saw the man’s face looming above her, howling with laughter, in her eternal slumber.