A note from the author:
A man from a small town wanders into a place that he never knew before, where things seem familiar yet unfamiliar. Where he is known to everyone yet no one knows him. His past, present, and future blend together like a riot.
Lance Aldridge takes a ride through the areas not available to mapmakers, to a place that is made up of all of his best friends that he has never met before. All of the things that he experiences are set forth in his mind as having been there before, yet he feels he has no past here, no future, and decidedly no present. Confusion is the only thing that he is sure he knows, confusion and a sense of being.
Did you every dream something that you did before? Did that dream have different circumstances than you really remembered in reality? Well that’s what happens to Lance, only this is real.
I know that this sounds like a bad Twilight Zone episode, but Lance is convinced that it really happened and I figured I would write it down for him since he’s sure that everyone should know about it. I’m just going to write it down the way Lance tells me. So if it seems a little off base its Lance and not me. Ok?
I left my warm weather home in the southern region of New Mexico to take a load of marijuana to some friends in Canada. It was just into the time of year when the tourists have returned home and the kids have gone back to school. A time of year before the leaves start to change and the air feels warm and full. Not the hot baking summer, not the chill of fall, but that place in between.
I like to make a big pot run that time of year for some reason. You avoid so many of the hap-hazard drivers, the truck traffic seems lighter and the crop has just come over the Mexican border. I have friends all over the country from running marijuana. Most are just old hippies who pay the bills during the winter by selling pot to a select group of friends. But I don’t sell to them, my load all goes to Canada.
The day before I left I had to pack the car for the trip. I just bought this car over the summer so I wasn’t sure how much reefer I could get packed into her. She’s a 1983 Buick Regal Limited Coupe that I bought from a little old lady whose husband died and she gave up driving. The car is nice inside, all plush and velour, like kind of a soft blue plushy feel to everything inside, with a huge smuggler panel on each side next to the back seat.
I started by removing the backseat and the interior panels. Pretty simple really you just unscrew all of the Phillips head screws and tug gently. After the seats are out cut into the plastic behind the panels and you have enough cargo space for about a hundred vacuum sealed individually wrapped pounds on each side.
With this being a little old lady car there were no scrapes and scratches on the panels so if the cops pulled me over they would be hard pressed to find the probable cause to pull out the back seat.
I had gone the day before I left to a friend who cuts hair and cleared off my ponytail and beard. That combined with a shirt, tie, and briefcase on the front seat I was practically police proof.
There are procedures that must be followed closely to keep the cops away. Never drive past dusk, never smoke pot in the car, never tell anyone what you are doing, and never, I mean never pick up hitchhikers! The first thing a hitchhiker wants to do is talk, talk and he will see that you are nervous. If he sees you are nervous he’s going to know that you have cargo, undefined cargo but something to check into is something, a few probing questions and the pattern of lies doesn’t match what you just told him.
The worst is when the police pull you over and you don’t have your cover story well planned. The cover story has to have consistency and be as clear as the truth. Why this? Why that? It all has to match. This trip I’m on my way to a sales convention in International Falls near the Canadian border.
I sell waterbed mattresses as an independent distributor for a company called Slumberwave out of Minnesota, and I’m the best that they have working there. Except I had a string of slow sales in some of stores I sell to. It’s like nobody buys waterbeds anymore. That’s why the old car but she’s in good shape for an old car.
With this cover story I’m hooked up. I printed a sheet of ten business cards that will ring to the phone at the house where I left a message on the voicemail with an indication of Slumberwave on the machine.
All set.
I pack in the dope and then tape over three layers of trash bags to be sure that my vacuum sealed bags are dog proof and before I put the panels back I tape in three vanilla air fresheners to the backside of the panels, more dog proofing. I vacuum out the entire car and hang one vanilla air freshener to the rear view mirror.
With the car packed I go through a light check on the car and go to the auto parts house and buy duplicate lights for every bulb on the car. I buy belts and the upper and lower radiator hoses. I have the oil changed and make sure everything on the car is in perfect order, I am taking no chances. The tires are all new, the wiper blades are fresh. I pack enough tools to rebuild the entire car on the side of the road if necessary. My map is on the front seat with reservations having been made weeks in advance for every stop. I have made this trip every fall for the last five years so I know exactly where my stops are.
I leave nothing to chance, there are no loose ends. Before leaving the house I cut off the water at the main, and shut off the gas, my freezer is cleared out and the electricity shut off.
I leave nothing to chance. I live alone and have no pets to feed.
My grass is cut; my mailbox is bigger than average size so as to accommodate the extra mail. The neighbors have no idea that I’m there when I’m home so they won’t know when I’m gone.
With two hundred pounds of pot bought at Mexican rate and sold at Canadian prices I stand to make a thousand dollars a pound minimum that is two hundred thousand dollars for driving two thousand miles. This takes me only six days to leisurely drive there and three days to drive back at any rate of speed I choose on the way back. My money is e-transferred so I don’t have to worry about being stopped on the way back and the cops finding the cash.
I hit Interstate 25 in about an hour after leaving the house the car feels fantastic, no wobbles or shimmies and I am dead on the speed limit with still almost a full tank of gas and a whole lot of day light left before I stop in Colorado Springs for the night. The weather is great, beautiful sunshine and just a few clouds here and there to keep the blue sky from getting lonely on such a perfect day.
As I approach I-40 the traffic picks up a little but all in all it moves along nicely as I transition to the northbound lanes. There are quite a few trucks going north so it will be easy to blend in as we go purring along and I start thinking about how grand this day is, how perfect the mountains on both sides. In the distance the heart of the Rockies rising up out of the earth, how glorious in their form a mass of granite reaching skyward and whoa there’s a cop behind me!
Ok stay cool.
Here he comes, man where did he come from? I didn’t even see him!
Ok here it goes he’s getting in the other lane, he’s going right by me, he’s going, don’t wave at him. Kinda look but not really, man, where did he come from?
Land of Enchantment… Wow! He’s going, going, man he’s kind of slow. Boy I was right on that speed limit though. That was good he hardly even looked at this car. Wow what a great cover car. It is perfect, wow, I still have over a half a tank this thing is great on gas. He’s long gone in front of me now though.
Oh, Rest Area 1 mile, pee or not? Yeah, stretch the legs, check under the hood, yeah, pull in. Oops no, no, no the cop’s going into the rest area.
Maybe I should stop and just let him get ahead of me again. No, go on by then it will put distance between you and him. Just keep going… No, stop and pee walk around a little bit and make sure he leaves first.
Ok stop this, man, that was a quick mile.
Ok here we go now don’t park too close but don’t park to far from him.
Oh, wow there he goes right through the rest area he didn’t even stop. Think he was waiting for me to go by him so he could get behind me?
No, for sure, No! He was just making sure there were no stranded motorists in the rest area. Now I really have to take that piss. God, it’s the little things that freak you out.
Ok. He’s gone nothing to worry about now. I lock the doors as I get out, rest areas have a tendency of being the place where stuff can happen that you don’t expect and I leave nothing to chance. This is a pretty nice rest area, New Mexico has really nice rest areas. The bathroom is clean that’s nice that they keep it up like this.
I’m glad that my lack of tax dollar contributions hasn’t hurt their ability to keep them well maintained. Shake twice and wash your hands, I’m so glad that there aren’t any freaky perverts hanging out in the Men’s room. I really hate that.
A quick check on the big map and I’m right on schedule to be hungry when it’s time for gas. I’m going to be in good shape.
Keys, where are the keys? Ok, front pocket. Wow,could you imagine if I locked the keys in the car, god that would suck.
I’m cool, it’s cool. Check the fluids and stuff and then away I go. Everything is good, clean oil and the green bottle is green. Ok, belts look good no leaks, ready to go.
She fires right up and sounds nice and quite, what a great car. God what a beautiful day, this is nice. Half a tank of gas and I’m just a little hungry, ok. I’m back to the interstate and looking good here. A couple more hours and its Colorado, I am good. Boy this car sure was taken care of by that old man, it sure feels good and it handles nice, no shimmies.
Wow, big truck in a hurry, sorry pal I’m doing the speed limit. I leave nothing to chance. Rolling on down the road here, you’re gonna have to go around me. The mile markers keep on counting, I wonder how many miles to Colorado Springs? This road sure is in nice shape hardly feel a thing in this car. It sure is just wonderful. I can’t wait to get to Canada it’s just really nice this time of year.
Next sign here says Colorado and I still have a quarter of a tank, can that be right?
All the trucks have to stop for the weigh station, sure do like the way this car is miserly on the gas though, I’m looking for the next gas station and some food.
Oh, yeah this exit has a big truck stop. I like the idea of food and gas at the same place it’s just easier. Wow that gas price is high but, oh well, I’m going to make two hundred thousand dollars, I really don’t care about the gas price. I’m getting great mileage anyway.
I fill up the tank and pull up by the door of the truck stop. The place is a little dumpy but not too bad, at least it looks clean and I have to remember to get a receipt for the gas so it looks like I’m expensing the trip. The menu is kind of pricy but who cares, I’ve got to eat so I order a burger, fries, and coke. Keep it simple, don’t draw attention.
The food is not bad, the waitress is kind of Flo-like, but nice, I tip her three bucks and I’m out to the interstate in a flash, only a couple of hours to Colorado Springs.
The flat part right before you get from Pueblo to Colorado Springs just kind of boring but nice when you look out the window and see big beautiful mountains on your left. It’s almost sunset when I pull into my first night stop. The sun disappears quickly here because the mountains swallow all of the purple and leave a red glow of a sunset, it’s breathtaking.
I stay here every time. It is a good place with a pool, room service, and they have a nice breakfast buffet. I really want to take a dive in the pool so I change and head on in. There are two really cute girls hanging out in the lounge on my way by but there is no time for drinks or girls.
My cover story doesn’t hold well with the ladies. I leave nothing to chance.
It’s HBO and order up the special from room service. Sure I could go out and get something in town but I have learned that Barney Fife even arrested somebody in Mayberry every once in a while.
I slept pretty good and took a long shower before the breakfast buffet. I’m ready to hit the road after a quick check under the hood. It all looks good, boy this old man really took great care of this car. When I get through Denver I want to go see some friends in Estes Park. There’s a guy I know in a furniture store who still has a market for waterbeds.
The clouds are gathering over the mountains and the rain starts just as I leave Golden. What a beautiful city. I’ve got my headlights and wipers on as I start the huge climb up the mountains. Holy crap The rain and these huge mountains made me forget about the gas gauge.
This car really sucks down the gas on the mountains. I’m staring at empty pretty quick and there’s not a town in sight. My view is seriously hindered by the rain. Is there any gas left in this thing?
Holy crap, I need a gas station now!
So much for leaving nothing to chance! The fuel gauge has my heart racing as I climb from mountain to mountain in hopes of finding a gas station. I wonder how long I can go on fumes.
Oh thank God, there’s an intersection. No signs, but a road that leads downhill. I can’t believe I got so distracted from the rain. I really shouldn’t worry so much about the rain because it makes the car run cooler and I have brand new tires on the car.
How could I get so far off my game that I didn’t watch the gas gauge?
This whole intermountain region looks the same at everyone of these intersections. I have no choice but to go for the downhill. Hopefully there is a town at the bottom. There are no signs that say there’s a town but logically there should be a roadside gas station somewhere.
I don’t want to take a chance on running out of gas on the main road. A cop will come along too quick and want to ask questions and that will be it for this trip. My map doesn’t even show this road, there are no route number signs, but it has to lead somewhere. As long as it stays a downhill I should be ok. I hope the fumes hold out. There can’t be anything more than a gallon in the tank. There are huge mountains on both sides I can’t see the tops through the hard rain and mist. They look like they go straight up forever in the limited visibility.
I can’t believe that I was so stupid as to not fuel up in Denver, I was distracted by trying to keep a close eye on the traffic and the speedometer. With the rain I guess my circuits went on overload and I neglected the gas. Wow, the road makers must have followed a drunk snake to make this road the bends are just crazy. I just need to stay slow and not hit the gas pedal. With all this rain I need to keep a close eye for falling rocks, You never know when there is going to be a rockslide up here.
Wow, a tunnel blasted right through the mountain, that’s pretty cool. Oh, there’s a car in front of me, too. I wonder if they know the area, they are going pretty slow so I guess they are as clueless as I am. The drop -off on the right just turned nasty and got really deep.
I can’t really see anything down there but mist and that looks like a long way down. I can’t see anything but treetops at eye level and they look like mighty huge trees.
Why is this guy hitting his brakes? Holy cow! Is that an elk?
I would have plowed right into it if it weren’t for the slowpoke in front of me. I really need to be careful out here I imagine that the wildlife doesn’t see a lot of traffic.
Where did that guy go?
The rain has slowed down and it looks like some lights over in the valley at the bottom of the hill.
I hope it’s a gas station, my fumes have got to be pretty limited. That town looks like it is way down there, I wonder what the elevation is up here.
I wonder where that car went that was in front of me, he was driving pretty slow and I know we didn’t pass another road.
This road is pretty amazing it goes straight down the mountain to that little town. I see a sign that looks like it may be a gas station sign, and it’s lit. I’m saved! Man, I’ll bet there’s no climbing this mountain with snow on the roads.
Here’s the town…Unity…612. Huge metropolitan area!
I think that there were more people than that in the Wal-Mart parking lot back in Denver.
This intersection is encouraging but still no gas station, there’s a nice little diner and it looks pretty busy. Of course it’s busy, it’s twelve thirty. I imagine the entire population is there having lunch. Maybe I should stop in and ask about a gas station. So where can I park? Oops, sputter, stall. I’m out of gas now, I drift to a stop next to an old pickup, a perfect park job. It’s time to go ask these folks in the diner about a gas station. The diner is packed.
Since I’m here I should grab a bite then work on my gas problem. Everything smells so good, I have to eat here. You have to love a place called ‘Mom’s Home Cooking’.
The sign says “Please wait to be seated” since there are no empty chairs at the lunch counter I’m waiting. This place looks really familiar like I was in this diner before. Since I’ve never been here before I know that it’s impossible, but I feel like I’ve been here. Though I know that once I get some food in me and a tank of gas I’ll just have Unity as a memory. I know that once I leave here I’ll never come back. I can’t believe how dumb I was in running out of gas in the most remote spot on the planet.
A pudgy little waitress walks up and says “Just you today?” I nod and she grabs a menu and leads me to a little booth in the corner. ” Today’s special is Mom’s meatloaf with choice of potato and a veggie for 3.99″ She says.
“Sold!” I blurt out. She looks me up and down and says, ” You’re usually pickier than that, Lance what kind of veggies?”
I am stunned, but I don’t want to show it. So I tell her, “Green beans and mashed potatoes.” She smiles and folds up the menu and walks away, only to return fifteen seconds later with a huge mug of root beer. I love root beer but how did she know that? How did this girl know my name? I glance down at my shirt, nope no name tag.
I ask her about a gas station and she says ” You know, Lance that the only gas station in town is at Dan’s garage and he is out of gas until you help him fix the rear end in his old tanker truck. Folks in this town have been waiting for gas for weeks now and you are the one that Dan’s been waiting for to help him fix that old truck Lance. Remember?”
Ok, freaky place, I’ve gotta get out of here! “I’m sorry,” I said, “You must have mistaken me for someone else.” Everybody in earshot cracks up laughing like I just told the funniest joke ever. The waitress smiles and says, “Yeah Lance, you must be somebody else today. When Mom finds out that you are in here instead of being on the road you are gonna wish you were somebody else!”
Weird small town, really weird conversation, I’ve got to get out of here…Gas or no gas, I’ve gotta go! “How’s the waterbed business going anyway Lance?” ,she asks as she shakes a hip at me. “Ok,” I said thinking quickly, “A little slow right now.” The entire restaurant breaks into laughter and they all look at me in disbelief.
The waitress walks away chuckling and the funny thing is that she looks familiar in an odd way. She reminds me of a girl I knew in high school fifteen years ago, but it couldn’t be her because she died senior year in a car crash on the way to a ski trip near Taos. The thing is that she looks older than she would be if she had lived and moved to Unity.
Then I start to look around the place and all the folks look vaguely familiar. There’s nothing I can put a finger on but they all look like people that I’ve known in my life. The waitress looks just like that girl, what was her name? Lisa, Elizabeth, Lauren, no it was Laura, Laura Simpson.
Her brother and sister still live down the road from me. Her brother Dave has an old Charger that I wanted to buy from him, but he wouldn’t sell it. As a matter of fact the reason he said he wouldn’t sell it is because it belonged to his sister who passed away. I remembered that.
The waitress brought me my special and a bottle of ketchup, that’s not so weird because plenty of people use ketchup on their meatloaf, what creeps me out is her nametag with LAURA in huge letters. She leaves my check tucked under the edge of the plate and walks away. I look down at the plate and I’m getting that feeling again, the meatloaf is exactly like my mom used to make, even the stringy grilled onions draped over the top are just like mom used to serve it, you just don’t see that anymore.
I know that my mom doesn’t work there because she died in a car crash with my dad when I was thirteen.
Apparently my dad fell asleep at the wheel in the middle of the night on their way back from a weekend away in Arizona. They both passed away before the car was found the next day. I was just a kid at home alone for the first weekend ever. When they didn’t get home Sunday night I was really worried. I can still remember the State Trooper that came to the door. He was crying right along with me when he told me that they had died, it seemed strange how he hung out with me until my granddad got there, he told me that his parents had died when he was a young teenager and knew how it felt and all. He was a really great guy, I am glad that they sent him.
It helped me to know that I wasn’t alone in my feelings of loss.
The diner was quiet as I ate my lunch thinking about how I would get free of this town with no gas, short of siphoning gas from every car on the street I didn’t have a plan.
The meatloaf was great. It really tasted like my mother’s. I gobbled it down and polished off my mashed potatoes and green beans, it was the best meal that I had eaten in decades.
I unfolded my wallet and went to pickup the check from the edge of my empty plate when a guy came by and snatched it up. “It’s on me old buddy”, he said as he smiled. This fella looked just like my old neighbor Paul who fell through the ice when we were kids. We managed to fish him out of the icy water, however he died of pneumonia a few weeks later, I guess I was about eight. I nearly hit the floor when he turned around and his shirt said ‘Paul’s Plumbing’ in huge three inch letters and ‘Paul’ on the other tag. It couldn’t be him, this guy was an adult.
Freaky weird town, it was astonishing that everybody in this town looked like someone that I used to know that had died. It really creeped me out, but the more pressing issue was gas, I needed to get back on the road if I was going to make it to Estes Park by dark, let alone completing my trek to Canada.
I stopped Paul on the way out and asked if he could run me to the nearest gas station that had gas. He said “You don’t need to go anywhere to get that done, Lance. Just help Dan put a rear end in that old tanker truck and you will bring gas back to our little town.”
“I don’t know Dan.” I said
“Sure you do Lance, we grew up together. You remember Dan used to let us watch his sister Gina in the shower when we were seven, remember?”
The memories of my old friend Dan Reynolds who died last year in a boating accident last year came quickly to mind.
His sister Gina had put on a show for us from the time she had pubic hair. There was a crack in the drywall in Dan’s closet that adjoined the bathroom. She would wait for us to get there before getting in the shower. Gina had legs that went on forever, she was just a few years older than us but could have been a supermodel at twelve. Did I remember Dan?
“Oh yeah, Dan,” I said “Sure, I remember Dan.” Paul walked up to the old pickup parked next to my Regal and pulled out a gas can with about a half a gallon in it and handed it to me. “That should be enough gas to get you to Dan’s shop, it’s down this road a quarter mile on the left, he should be able to help you from there. It’s been really good to see you Lance!” Paul said.
I graciously thanked Paul for the fuel as I put the empty can back into the bed of his old truck. As he drove away I couldn’t help but think that he was my friend who fell through the ice. When it happened we all stood watching on the ice as he nearly drowned. We ran to the hole but the hypothermia had already gripped his body. We got him out of the hole but he was already shaking from the icy water by the time he came out. His face was blue, his lips quivered from the ice now forming allover his body. We knew then that he would never survive that spill. It took weeks for him to actually drown from that water. By the time we went to his funeral Gina didn’t want anything to do with us, in her opinion we let her brother die. I carried the guilt of not getting him out of the water sooner for years.
On a half a gallon of gas I knew there was no way to just leave.
It wouldn’t get me to a gas station even if it were back out at the highway there was no way to make it there, not with that hill in front of me, no way.
I was a little bit freaked out by the fact that I had found a place where everyone I had ever known that had died was still living. Not only still living, but aging beyond how old they were when they died.
Mom’s meatloaf still sat heavily in my stomach as I cruised slowly down Main Street toward Dan’s shop. It was an old-timey garage like I remembered from when I was a kid. The big grey building with the office on one side and two huge garage doors on the other, the non-digital old gas pumps out front with a big sign draped over them that said ‘NO GAS’. I pulled up next to the office and went inside to find Dan in perfect health pulling a transmission out from under an old Chrysler.
I stopped short when I say Dan look at me like he had just seen me yesterday. It was my old buddy Dan all right. He didn’t look like the same guy that I had been a pallbearer at his funeral just nine months before.
“What’s up Lance?” he said. I didn’t want to say ‘The whole friggin’ graveyard is up! They’re all walking around here in Unity!’ Instead I said “I’m all out of gas, Dan. Would it be ok with you if I just siphoned some gas out of the old wrecks you’ve got laying around?”
“There is no gas in any of these old cars,” he said “Your best bet would be to help me fix the old tanker truck so I can go get gas outta Denver.” With a few seconds thought I came up with a brilliant plan. “Can we just call a gas supplier in Denver and have them deliver the gas?”
“They won’t come out here because of the hill, Lance.” he said, “The hill is a killer, Lance. There are few who make it in here because of the hill, and fewer still will brave going up that hill to get out of here. There’s no way they can make it in an eighteen wheeler without dying in the process.
The only way is to fix my old single axle tanker and I can run into Denver and get gas. There’s an old school bus out by the road with a good rear end in it out by the diner. That’s our only hope of getting gas into this town. If you help me get the bus over here and help me get the Axle changed out I will give you a tank of gas, and you’ll be on your way.”
“I’ve got to get on the road, Dan,” I said, “I’m going to International Falls for…”
“Let me guess…The waterbed conference?” Dan cut me short and started chuckling.
Was everybody in this town aware of my activities? I didn’t find any humor in it at all. I was more than a little bit curious as to how everyone in town knew what I did for a living. Did all these people know that they were dead, too?
A few minutes later Dan and I were preparing the old school bus for it’s last journey. With a couple of tugs from Dan’s old wrecker we had the bus moving down the street. Most of the old bus had been used for parts over the years. There was no engine or transmission. The sheet metal was missing off of the front of the old bus. Luckily there was a steering wheel and brakes. I steered the old bus while Dan pulled me along on a chain behind his old wrecker. He didn’t have to pull very hard because it was all down hill.
It was a little troublesome stopping the bus with the old brakes grinding as we came to Dan’s shop.
There were just enough brakes left to slow it to a halt before running through the building. The old bus a willing donor, we jacked up the rear and Dan torched the rear end free in a few minutes time. We carried out the same procedure on the tanker and installed the bus’s rear end. We finished the job by the time it was getting dark. Dan suggested the diner for a good meal and I couldn’t disagree. As we walked into the diner everybody cheered for us like we had just won the big game and were carrying in the championship trophy.
My mind went to wondering, how did they all know what we had just done? How did they know that we would go into the diner after we had finished the job? This was truly the strangest place I had ever seen.
In looking around the diner I began to notice more people that were there. My mother and father, although older, were easily recognizable. My aunt who died in a plane crash when I was six was the cashier. My cousin who drowned in a rafting accident on the Colorado River was seated at the next table. My granddad that had passed away last year was right there at the counter drinking coffee. They all looked like themselves but looked older and more content than they were when they were living. Did any of them know that they were dead? Why was there no law enforcement in this little town?
Was it because I didn’t know any dead cops?
Why was the only business in Unity Mom’s Home Cooking aside from Dan’s shop?
t was just too weird. We dined on a feast of mom’s lasagna which was better than I had remembered.
Dan invited me to sleep at his place. I slept soundly on Dan’s couch. I can’t recall a more restful night’s sleep. When I awoke Dan had already left for Denver in the tanker. I hiked up Main Street to Mom’s for French toast, even though I couldn’t explain the dead people walking around everywhere I looked, the food was fantastic.
Dan drove by the diner just as I was leaving. He proudly grinned and waved as he drove by the diner honking his horn. I scampered out the door and gave chase down Main Street. Dan emptied the contents of the tanker into the underground tanks while I primed the pumps by hand. They were so dry that it took a long time to get gas to come out of the nozzle.
Once the precious cargo was delivered into the Regal’s tank I was ready to complete my journey. I wanted to avoid any tearful goodbyes at the diner but stopped in on my way out of town.
Where I had once seen familiar faces they were now the faces of strangers. It was no longer those I knew before.
This was a weird little town, this Unity.
I turned on to the main road and pressed down on the gas pedal to start up the massive hill. In my driver’s mirror I looked back at the Unity sign and the population figure had changed to 611,
I couldn’t help but stare back into that mirror knowing that it had said 612 before.
I watched it disappear in the distance.
As it faded from view the real truth was revealed, the rain was falling, the car in front of me narrowly missing the massive elk.
As it cascaded through my windshield and struck me I knew that my trip to Unity was all in my mind.
The paramedics wheeled me slowly down the long hallway in the basement of the hospital.
As we reached the double doors at the end of the hall I noticed the sign on the doors, it said simply ‘Unit Y Morgue 611-612′.
I know now that the elk had hit my car and that this was all the workings of my mind.
But I have to say that Mom’s French toast was never better!