|
|
|
ParapraxisThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Nathan Weaver | |
| Tuesday, 10 June 2008 | |
Lilly pulled off into the parking lot of Jack's Diner. She looked over her road map and eventually decided that Rand McNally was an idiot; she then entered the diner. It was about lunch time after all so she figured she could eat some greasy burger and fries, throw it all up and get directions all in one sitting.
The place was packed with dirty looking people, the kind who think "must of" is one word. Several men looked her up and down, fantasizing something in their minds most likely, but then they turned back to their skanks or pals and frowned. Lilly approached the old man behind the counter,
"Excuse me, Sir," she started, "I wonder if I could get some directions."
"Sure, Miss," he replied, "Where's about you headed?"
"Drumright."
A man sitting at a table in the corner, turned and spoke to her from across the restaurant in a thick Midwestern accent, "Just get on 33 and stick it out. Thirty-three takes you straight through downtown Drumright."
"Where is 33?"
"Just get back on the road out here, head back to Tulsa and get on 44. Follow 44 to the Westside of Tulsa and you can get on 33 just outside Tulsa's Westside. You'll need two quarters for the exit."
"Oh, is that it?" she frowned, "Not sure how I missed that."
"It happens."
The old man spoke up again, looking a smidge on the agitated side, "You gonna eat something, Miss?"
"Yeah, you got a menu?" she looked around, "And a seat?"
"Nope, Miss, no menu," the old man responded, "We make burgers and fries, we got soda and water and coffee. You want a burger and fries, just a burger or just fries? Watchya want to drink?"
"I guess I'll take the burger and fries," she said, "And a water for some sort of balance-I don't see any open tables."
"There ain't none."
"Well, then where-"
The man in the corner spoke up, "You can sit at mine, if ya want."
Lilly sighed to herself, "Okay."
"I'll get that burger and fries whipped up for ya."
Lilly walked across the restaurant to the man in the corner, she sat across him. Thankfully, he was less freaky than the others. He was probably only about five or ten years her senior, whereas most of the others were probably fifteen to twenty years her senior. She felt more at home at this table, though watched.
"The name's Rob," he introduced himself, "And I ain't from around here neither."
"How come you knew the directions, so well?"
"I ramble about the country a lot," he smiled, "And I like maps."
"I hate maps," Lilly remarked.
"I don't see how you could. I love reading ‘em."
"Reading? Even Edger Allen Poe makes more sense than maps."
Rob was finishing the last of the greasy fries on his plate; he drenched each one with ketchup and overused the double-dip. Rob was in sodium heaven. He sucked from his straw the last of his pop, he sat back in his chair and belched a little with his mouth closed, "I do a lot of thinking. That's why I like moving around a lot. I like to meet new people and talk about my theories, get some new input. I hate going in circles with the same crowd-you know what I mean?"
"Sure."
"Good," he leaned forward crossing his arms and placing them on the edge of the table, pushing his plate to the center of the table, "I gotta theory about people. Inherently, people are relatively decent creatures but we're still just animals. I think all of us, if placed in the perfect scenario, would kill someone. What do you think?"
Lilly shook her head, "I disagree."
"But everybody has someone they hate or despise or who annoys them, and if the situation was perfect they'd go for it."
"I don't hate anybody," Lilly started, "Or despise and no one annoys me that much."
"But," Rob began again, getting excited, "In the heat of the moment, if someone irritated you and you had the conditions you'd kill."
"No," Lilly was starting to get annoyed.
Rob looked annoyed now, too, "Yes, you would."
"No."
"It's human instinct to hurt what hurts us."
"No, it's not," she started, "Human instinct is just something we've made up to make ourselves feel better about poor choices we make. We are voluntary creatures, nothing is involuntary."
"Bull!" Rob raised his voice now, he looked around and then calmed himself, he whispered in an irritated voice now, "If someone walked through that door naked, our reaction would be to stare. That's instinct."
"It's a choice, I don't have to look."
"Yes, you do, curiosity and instinct demands it," Rob explained, "If I stabbed your hand with my fork right now, your reaction would be to say or do something harmful to me."
Lilly noticed Rob was gripping his fork as he spoke these words, he had a tense grip on it and she could see sweat in his palms, she chose her words wisely, "Let me give you an example that is the opposite of your current example of the fork... my mom beat my dad and he never raised his voice or a hand, he always remained calm and he never retaliated. His choice was to combat irrationality with rationality, anger with peace and tranquility."
Rob smiled, released his grip of the fork and sat back in his chair, "Good. Nice defense. Hadn't heard that one. So did it work for you dad? His method?"
"Unfortunately, no."
Rob leaned back towards the table, "Well, there you have it. It didn't work, and why? Because it ain't normal, it ain't human nature."
"So, you would have killed my mom?" Lilly inquired.
"Sure!" Rob exclaimed and sat back, "I'd giver her a taste of her own medicine."
"But she didn't kill my dad; she just beat him up," Lilly further explained, "So, how is killer her giving her a taste of her own medicine?"
Rob frowned, "Good point. I suppose the right thing to do would be to smack her around a bit."
"So, an eye for an eye and all that?"
"Yeah, it's human nature. And we must not deny our natural impulses."
"Really?" Lilly asked, "My natural impulse was to leave the table once you started getting into your theory, was I wrong to deny it?"
"Absolutely. You should have walked away from me, but you didn't," he leaned in and stared into her eyes, "And now you're here with me. It's your own fault."
"What's my own fault?" Lilly asked.
"What happens next-anything I say, anything I do. It's all your fault. You could have avoided this, but you didn't. Instead, you denied your natural instinct."
It was at this point that Lilly was starting to feel very uncomfortable; she realized she'd just sat down with a psycho and she was not fond of psychos. She decided it was time to behave instinctively, so she stood from her chair, "Look, Rob, I've had enough of your conversation. I don't like the things you say and I don't like your tone. I think you have some serious issues and you need to get them checked out."
Rob laughed, "You don't know me."
"I know enough."
Lilly left Jack's Diner, not having ate, her stomach growling as she drove away. She headed towards Tulsa, following the directions Rob had given her. After a couple of hours of driving, and feeling insanely paranoid she began to relax. She had the radio cranked up nice and loud. She had the options of: country, country, oldies, country, rap, country, classic rock, pop, country and country. She went with oldies.
She hadn't passed a car for about twenty miles or more, and none had passed her. So when she saw movement in her mirror, it caught her eye. The paranoia flooded back through her veins, like a rush of water over the body. The goose bumps bulged from her skin and there was a tinkling in her spine. She squirmed and shuffled her butt around, adjusting for the spine.
The car was fast approaching, getting closer and closer. In her mind, she reprimanded herself for not noting which car may have been his. The grip on her steering wheel was tight and wet from the sweat in her palms; she removed her hands (one after another) and wiped the sweat into her denim. The car came up behind her and quickly, without blinkers, darted into the other lane to pass her. Thoughts flooded her mind,
Don't be him.
It was a 1980s car, the sporty version of luxury car, the kind of make only grandparents drive. The kind that have ashtrays in doors of the backseat, and the grandparents fill those ashtrays with mints or other candies for the grandkiddies. It was a bronzish color. Not quite bronze, not quite brown. The top was definitely brown and sported a sun roof. It planted itself beside her car, steadying itself to her speed. Lilly didn't want to look, so she hesitated for a moment. She finally found the courage and turned her head...
It was Rob.
Rob was looking at her, staring. He had a very straight or serious face, he looked agitated. His left hand held the steering wheel at noon, his right hand sat somewhere in the passenger seat next to him. Rob opened his mouth and lipped a couple of words; she wasn't sure what he was saying. He winked with his right eye and smiled. He raised a sawed-off shotgun with his right hand from the passenger seat and took aim.
Time seemed to slow; Lilly knew this was the end. She watched him as he watched her, as he perfected his aim with the movement of the two cars. It was only a moment and then it ended. An eighteen-wheeler removed the car from her sight and replaced it with fields. She looked into her mirror and saw Rob's car rolling through a barbwire fence and into a field, cows ran. The eighteen-wheeler jackknifed, skidded and flipped over. The tanker it had exploded into flames. Lilly slammed on her breaks and jerked her steering wheel; she skidded off the road and onto the shoulder.
She got out of her car and ran down the middle of the street towards the cab of the truck which was engulfed in flames. When she got to it she looked in from a distance and could see the driver wasn't moving and the flames were finishing the job. She ran through the ditch and followed the path Rob and his car had taken, she stopped as she reached the fence and looked at it. It had been thrown from the car during the rolls, and it seemed almost intact. She reached down and picked it up, holding it in her two arms. She stepped over the barbwire fence that the car had mangled while going through it; she made her way to his car. Some steam was coming from the hood of his car and she could hear the car hissing and popping as she approached it.
At the car, she stood above the passenger door looking through where the window had been. She could see Rob, his head laid in the grass where his window once was. He was coughing up blood; it appeared all his limbs were all broken. He had cuts all over his face, neck and body. He slowly turned his head just a little in her direction; his eyes did most of the movement. When he saw her, he smiled.
Lilly had never fired a gun before, but she had seen enough action flicks and TV shows in her day she figured she could handle it. She took aim, but there was no trigger. It had broken off in the crash, so became the angrier and leaned the gun against the car. Rob was laughing inside the car as Lilly tried to open the door, but it was would not budge. She kicked it and gave up, grabbing the gun and climbing in through the window frame. Inside the car, she climbed down to him; she stepped on his shoulder at one point and he began to cry and moan. She kneeled down on her knees, straddling his body and cutting her knees with the shattered glass in the yellow grass. She gripped the shotgun in her hands, holding firm upon the barrel she began her assault.
Rob wasn't laughing anymore.
He was panting, screaming, crying and moaning. Paralyzed from the crash, Rob could not defend himself as Lilly thrust the butt of his shotgun into his head over and over and over and over. Eventually, Rob made no noise. All that could be heard was Lilly sniffling, panting and the sound of bone and blood. On her final blow, she slipped and the butt landed a hard blow on the frame of the door. Upon impact, the gun went off and several buckshot caught Lilly in the head.
Lilly came to rest across the gun and Rob, she bled out into him and the grass. It would later be ruled a murder-suicide. Copyright 2008 Nathan Weaver |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
via Email