The Cold After Everything

The next part after "Another Crash"

As time passed, She would lean back and forth—against the car door, then upright. I wasn’t sure if She was passing in and out of consciousness or just spaced out. I could only catch glimpses of her in my side mirror when she leaned her head against the window, eyes glazed over. The car rattled with the texture of the road, yet she remained unfazed. My curiosity boiled over. I turned my neck to see her. “What were you doing taking that exit?”

“Same as you,” She replied. “Trying to get home.”

“I thought you had already tried it.”

“I was guessing about its dangerousness. Problem is, I guessed right.”

“Here’s a question,” I said, turning slightly to Cecil, “why are we not taking that exit right now?”

She stayed silent for a moment. Cecil eyed me. She spoke up.

“Have you ever felt the wind push against you when you’re going that speed?”

“Actually, yes,” I replied. “You wouldn’t believe that night I’ve had.”

“Then you know the feeling.”

She went back to staring out the window. “It’s cold out tonight,” She said. “It was raining earlier, before you. Cold, freezing rain.”

“I suppose that’s the worst kind,” I replied.

“It is at first. You really feel it on your skin. But, then… then it doesn’t feel like anything. That is, if you’re out for long enough.”

I turned back to Cecil. He was still unfazed, driving normally. I moved back to look at Her.

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Why are we not taking exit eight? Isn’t it also your exit?”

“Do you care?”

“Yeah, actually,” I snapped back. “This might surprise you, but I don’t want to be here tonight, but people keep getting sad, shot, or badly hurt. This little excursion isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she snapped back with equal vigor. “I’ll try to stay on my bike next time.”

She kept staring at the window. There was nothing to look at outside. The car rolled along solemnly, treading over cracked and broken earth.

I began to feel like we were being watched. Like someone was staring at me from across the room, boring holes into my skull. It became uncomfortable as I started to snap my head all around the car, looking for anything. There was no spirit this time. No phantom or memory comes back to bite.

A loud bang of an engine brought my attention back to the present. Headlights flashed in the side and rearview mirrors. The sound grew louder as a black silhouette made its way to the driver’s side of the car. A familiar helmet appeared in Cecil’s window. The Front-rider waved. Her eyes lit up. Cecil flipped him off. I couldn’t see his mouth, but, by the way his neck moved, I could tell that the Front-rider was laughing. A couple of his lackeys pulled up around him. They sped a ways up the road and moved in front of the car. Then, as suddenly as they sped up, they stopped. Cecil hit the brakes. He swerved onto the shoulder, just missing the riders in front of him.

Before She or I could react, Cecil was already unbuckled and opening the car door. Jeers from the goons behind him forced themselves onto the car.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a bunch of dumb sons-a-bitches!” Cecil hurled from where he stood. The jeers and laughs grew stronger.

“Do you want to die painfully?!”

Someone yelled from the back, “It’s better than living here!”

The roars crescendoed. I heard Her click out of her seat. The door slammed behind me as she marched forward toward the Front-rider. I followed behind her. Cecil put out his hand to stop Her, but she was already breathing down the Front-rider’s neck.

“You’re doing this now?” She said firmly.

“Well, yeah,” the Front-rider replied, “and it seems to be going pretty well.”

Cecil piped up, “Get back in the car!” She silenced him with a hand movement.

“Hey, I told you I’d come get you, didn’t I?” The Front-rider whispered.

“Yeah, you did, but that doesn’t mean you have to harass these people,” She replied.

“That’s just a bonus.” The Front-rider moved closer to Her, grabbing her shoulders. She stood firm, subtly playing with her hair.

“I’ll tell you what, old man,” the Front-rider turned and called to Cecil, “we will leave if she comes with us.”

Cecil moved to get between Her and the Front-rider. She stopped him, again, with a hand.

“It’s fine,” She said. “I was going this way anyway.” She glanced back at me. I’m not sure how I looked to her. I was worried I looked pathetic, lost in the night. I could see her eyes soften as they turned away from me. She moved past the Front-rider, pausing behind his bike before taking a seat. Without a word, the Front-rider made eye contact with me. I couldn’t see anything beyond his eyes, just the fog in the night sky. He reached out his hand toward me, slowly, carefully, and beckoned. I felt something dull in the night air. Something needing medication. The Front-rider kissed Her, mouth and hands involved.

Cecil pushed me back into the car. In an instant, I heard those same familiar roars explode around us as the Front-rider pulled away with his posse, and Her, trailing behind. In the rearview mirror, I saw a small figure, just big enough to recognize, in a robe, looking directly at me.

My dear reader, I nearly puked. That pain I had felt with Maggy was back. However, now I understood it for what it was: The strongest version of the burning feeling. It had moved up and pressed on my spinal cord yet again. I doubled over in Cecil’s car. Flashes of the evening moved through my head. In that moment, I was compelled to stay, if only to make this pain leave for good. I was sick to my stomach with something I can only call love.