Short Story Saturday: Not You

Not You

Seth ran into the room. Panic etched his facial features as he grabbed a few things here and there.

“Come on! We have to go!” he said in a rush.

Willow took in his appearance. His dirty-blond hair jutted in every which direction. His cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were so expanded, the green of his eyes was near-impossible to see.

“Go? What the hell are you on about, Seth? You look like you’ve been chased by a rabid animal. I’m not moving until you give me a good reason to. It’s my day off.” Willow sighed, and then she patted the cushion beside her.

“There’s no time. We have to go! I want to pick up Gena on our way. I hate to think she’ll be sitting there alone when it happens.” He ran his left hand through his hair, taming it a bit.

“When what happens?” Willow asked.

“It’s World War Three, Willow! There are nuclear missiles being launched as we waste time,” he all but shouted before grabbing her wrists and pulling her to her feet.

“Wouldn’t they let us know that on the T.V.? I haven’t seen anything about it.” She wriggled from his grasp.

“Really? Do you really think the government would tell us that? And if I’m wrong, what’ll it hurt? But if I’m right . . .” He wrapped his hands around her left. “Please, Willow. I’m trying to get us to a place that may very well be the safest place we can get.”

Willow sighed, giving up. “Okay, but if you’re wrong and you ruin my only day off, well, you’ll pay for it later.” A moment passed. “Wait, do we really have to pick up your sister?”

***

“What’s the big-g-g ruthsh?” Gena had been hiccupping and slurring her way through everything she said since she opened the door.

“For shit’s sake, woman! Just get in the ever-loving truck,” Willow said, her patience had dwindled to near-nothing.

Willow had already held up and guided the woman to the open door of the dark red ’78 Ford F-150. She just needed to get in and slide to the middle of the bench seat.

Gena put her left foot up on the floorboard and gripped the back of the seat—her five-foot-two inches made the step-up difficult, even if she wasn’t drunk. Willow saw Gena falling back toward her, and she was quick to brace Gena’s back to steady the woman. It wasn’t Willow’s first rodeo with Gena and her drinking. The woman strained again to get up on the seat. The exertion ended with Willow getting a cloud of methane to the face.

“A power-boost. Fantastic!” The sarcasm oozed from Willow’s words. “At least you finally got in. Now scooch! I have to get in too.”

“Willow, be nice, please,” Seth pleaded, and then he walked around to the driver’s side door.

“Fine.”

***

Three hours later, Gena had been passed out, snoring and farting, with a strand of drool connecting her mouth and her leg. Willow noticed those facts the last time she’d looked over at Seth. His face strained with a look of concern, and he was mumbling something she couldn’t hear, so she turned her attention out the window.

If there were nukes, they sure were taking a long time to hit, she thought. She hated when he started getting into that conspiracy theory stuff, but she couldn’t just tell him to stop. Even though it stressed him out, it also made him happier than she’d seen him in a while.

It soon became obvious that they had been picking up speed, and a lot of it. She could barely make out the trees through the blur of everything as they passed.

“Seth, slow down. We’ll never make it to your supposed safe spot if we die in a fiery crash because we were going too damn fast,” Willow said.

Gena groaned in the middle, but Seth gave no response, and the truck continued to pick up speed.

“Goddammit, Seth! I said, slow the fuck down not give it more gas.”

“Who are you talking too?” Gena asked.

Willow turned to look at her. “Who the hell do you think?” She gasped when she saw the seat empty beside Gena. “Seth!”

The door was closed. She hadn’t heard it open. Yet, Seth was gone, and the truck continued to barrel at speeds that should’ve been beyond its capabilities.

“Shit! Gena, slide over and hit the brakes,” Willow screeched.

“Oh, no, I can’t. I’ve been drinking and can’t afford another DUI,” Gena responded. “You do it.”

“How do you expect I do that?”

“Climb over,” Gena said, putting her head between her knees.

Willow wanted to pummel Gena with her fists. Instead, she unbuckled her seatbelt and brought her legs up to put her in a crouched position in the seat. With no one steering the truck, it miraculously stayed on the road while Willow wriggled over the top of Gena to get to the driver’s side of the truck.

Immediately after her butt hit the seat, Willow gripped the steering wheel and placed her right foot on the brake pedal. It didn’t respond, so she grabbed the steering wheel more firmly and slammed both feet on the brake pedal. Nothing.

“Fucking stop, truck,” she yelled.

“Where’s Seth? You don’t know how to drive,” Gena griped.

“Don’t start with me, woman!” Willow said, removing her feet from the brake pedal and placing her left foot on the clutch. She grabbed the shifter and downshifted.

The truck protested but eventually went into third gear and slowed ever so slightly. She tried the brake again. Nothing. She popped the shifter into neutral and tried the brake. Still, it wouldn’t work. So, she downshifted to second, then first. The transmission grinded and protested with each shift, but the truck still wouldn’t come to a stop. It even climbed a hill, picking up lost speed on the way down the other side.

Willow reached the point of giving up and was about to tell Gena they’d have to jump and hope for the best when the truck came to an abrupt halt at the very bottom of the hill and shut off. Willow sat trying to catch her breath and make sense of what had happened.

“It’s about time you learned how to use the break. Probably burned the damn transmission up,” Gena said.

“Oh, shut up, you damned good-for-nothing drunk. Where the fuck is Seth?” Willow asked, but in place of a response was the blaring of a semi truck’s horn.

“You could’ve at least pulled off the road, dummy. Come on, get out of the guy’s way.”

Willow turned the key off and then back to the on position. Not even a click. “Yeah, go figure. As if this situation couldn’t get more strange.” She put the shifter in neutral, blowing out a long, steadying breath. “Come on, get your short ass out and help me push it off the road. Then we’ll try to figure out what’s going on.”

With a bit of grumbling from Gena, they managed to push the truck off the road, and the cars that had gathered behind them drove by like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Willow kicked the back passenger’s side tire. “What the fuck is going on?” she screamed up at the sky.

A trill noise sounded from the cab of the truck. Willow looked to Gena who had sat down on the grass, and then she looked back to the truck.

“Was that your phone?” she asked.

“Nope, mine’s here,” Gena said, holding up her cell.

Willow felt her front pocket where her phone was. It had to have been Seth’s. He usually put it on the dash. She opened the passenger’s side door and reached across, grabbing the phone. She put in his pin, and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. She tapped the message, opening it.

Seth is safe. He is somewhere that he will continue to be so.

She didn’t understand. He had been driving, and then he was just gone. How could he possibly be safe? She typed a response.

Where is he? Bring him back! How do I know he’s safe?

She waited until the phone dinged again.

He was chosen. He is safe.

She started to get angrier with the cryptic messages.

If he’s safe, take me to him!

The phone dinged a minute later. The wait increased her anger, and she could feel the blood pulsing in her head. She checked the message.

He was chosen. Not you!

She turned to let Gena know about the texts. “Gena . . .” But Gena was gone. Her phone lay on the ground next to where she’d been sitting.

Willow heard the rushing sound of something through the air and then there was a huge explosion. Everything went black.