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.
