Burning Man (Chapter Two)

Everything in the human body has more than one purpose or can be used to accomplish more than one thing. If the physical make up of a person is that versatile why shouldn't the intangible parts be the same way?

-The Burning Man.

That night I dreamed of breakfast, the hot waitress, and Shotgun was there too. The world had been destroyed. Everything was as normal except for the post-apocalyptic scenery and the complete lack of people. Truck stops were normally pretty dead at 3 AM on a Sunday morning, but this was different. All of the semi-trucks in the parking lot had been long abandoned and the streets were completely devoid of people. The nearby interstate was quiet on this dark night. It was just me and the street lights as I parked my car in my usual spot in front of the main door.

Inside, Shotgun was waiting for me and we spoke solemnly during our meal. There he was in his infinite strangeness looking just as normal as ever. It was something like what Tyler Durden would look like with dyed hair. It was a color scheme we called "The Strawberry". Most of his hair was a bright red color except for a circle of green that was off center and a little towards the back. He had the ring through the center of his nose just like when I had first met him and, above that, over-sized, white-framed, 80's sunglasses. He was the type of person that stood out in a crowd, but yet it all seemed to suit him.

And there we sat; two peas in a pod. One wreathed in never-ending flames and the other all bright, bold colors. The waitress, pretty as ever, just kept on with her normal routine as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She treated that night as if it was any other work night. Like in the morning all the truckers would flood in and another waitress would relieve her at seven.

There would be no people though. I know. I waited. Long after Shotgun and I had finished eating and said our goodbyes I sat on a ledge outside and watched the sun come up. No one interrupted the orange, silent morning until the waitress, Alley I believe her name was, pushed open the heavy glass door to exit the restaurant and jangled her car keys out of her pocket.

I watched as she strode across the wide, open parking lot to her car where she got in and it vroomed to life. Then, she drove to the end of the lot and headed south towards the now dark street lights that I passed on my way here. Shotgun had never left the restaurant, but I knew he was no longer inside.

"I think I'll head west today." I said to the open air and walked over to my car.

*               *               *               *               *

The morning air was cool on my arm as I hung it out the window. The debris of the city rushed by on my way out of town; decimated buildings and cracked concrete sidewalks on every block. Occasionally, I had to slow down and weave between cars parked awkwardly in the street, but before the sun was halfway to its peak I was out of town. The destruction gave way to scorched fields and tall, green trees in the distance as I sped out onto the flat, open highway.

As the scenery drifted by so, too, did the time. The first sign of life appeared with the sun far overhead. It was like watching a very skilled magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. One second I was all alone and the next came a blaring siren and flashing red/blue lights from behind.

"Oh, great...” I thought. Then a song slipped into my head and I smiled. How did it go? "They're waiting for me; they're looking for me...” I couldn't quite remember the rest so I sang it to myself a few times while a motorcycle cop trailed behind me.

"Was it Highway Police?" I asked to no one in particular. My mind drifted for a moment. Then, suddenly, I heard the squawk of a megaphone behind me.

"PULL OVER!" It demanded. The sudden noise ripped me out of contemplation about who wrote the song and I almost lost control of the car.

"Dammit! Is he still following me?" Another rhetorical question. Eventually he would run out of gas, a quick glance down at my own fuel gage and I knew I would have to stop first. There was nothing for it but to do as he said so I turned on my blinker, slowed to a stop on the shoulder and watched as he came walking up beside me.

"Afternoon officer, something I can help you with today?" I asked with as much forced sincerity as I could muster.

"Gooood afternoon!" He replied. "I'm sure happy to see you. License and registration, please." If he was faking it I couldn't tell. I've known cheerleaders that aren't this chipper.

"Yeah." I said as I began rifling through papers in my glove box. Looking for something I didn't have. "Did I do something wrong, Officer?"

"Well, when I ran your plates they came back as registered to a 1963 Chevy, not 1964. Have you been drinking today, sir?" He asked with a big, hopeful grin. I stopped looking for the paperwork for a second. There's no way he could've possibly ran my tags; there’s not enough people left in the world to keep a police station running. Hell, I've never even encountered two people with the same occupation before regardless of where I go. There wasn't even anyone at the courthouse or DMV to renew my license and no reason to keep track of registration. He was just fishing for a reason to write a ticket. The term 'Dressed to Repress' came to mind.

"No drinking for me today, but this car is a '63 Chevy." His composure began to slip a bit, but quickly returned.

"Do you have the registration to prove it?"

"No." I replied feeling a bit defeated. I could practically see the sparkle in his eyes as his face lit up.

"Well, you're not under arrest, but I'm gonna need you to go ahead and put these handcuffs on while I call for backup." He said energetically. "Do you have any weapons in your possession?" He asked as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. This was quickly becoming a very bad situation. What would he do when backup never came? What if he handcuffs me to the car and leaves? What if he gets me in the handcuffs and tries to haul me back to jail on his motorcycle? Even if we don't crash somewhere along the lines how would I get back to my car? What if he puts me behind bars and I'm stuck there for the rest of eternity?

"No," I said quite firmly. His smile actually appeared to get wider for a moment. "I'm not putting those on." I finished and the smile left his face entirely. "Look around you!" I gestured towards the brown, open fields in all directions. The sky was suddenly dark with rain clouds and big drops started to dot the windshield. Water was already coming in the driver's side window and soaking my exposed side. I was running out of time. "The towns are no different than these fields. Everyone is gone. There's no one at the courthouse, nobody filing paperwork at the DMV, and there isn't going to be any-"

*CLICK*

I was suddenly interrupted by the cold metal closing around my left wrist as I was motioning out the window into the rain.  I looked over at my arm. The son of a bitch had one cuff on me.

"GIVE ME YOUR OTHER HAND!" He screamed into the car as I tried to jerk my arm inside, but he had a firm grip on the other end of the handcuffs. I yanked hard enough to pull myself partly out the window and he had to put one hand on the roof of the car to keep from being pulled inside. For a brief moment we were face to face and I thought I could see his desperate eyes behind his sunglasses. Then, just as I was beginning to plop back down in my seat I pushed my door open as hard as I could with my right hand, catching him right in the face with the top corner of the door post. It was enough to lay him out flat in the center of the road on the wet asphalt. I pushed in the clutch, turned the key, and quickly knocked the gear shift into reverse.

The rear tires barked, then grabbed the road and the car lurched backwards, smashing into the patrol bike and knocking it down the ditch behind me. "Good luck standing that back up in the mud." I thought to myself. I looked over just in time to see the cop getting back to his feet when I heard an alarm going off...

...and suddenly I was awake. No more cop. No more handcuffs, but my arm had fallen asleep and was currently entangled in the cord for the light that clipped onto my headboard. Also, in the commotion I had managed to squeeze the top off of a water bottle and drench half of myself and my bed. Already the dream was fading, but I knew I had to be late for work. What a start to a Monday.