Hit the Road Jack



 

  HIT THE ROAD, JACK

  By Edua Erasmus

  Published by Edua Media

  Copyright 2015 Edua Erasmus

  Front Cover Design by Edua Media

  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction.

  The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or persons. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  The rights of Edua Erasmus to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him under the South African Copyright Act of 1978 (as Amended)

  Nothing makes you feel as free as the long, open road that leads to the unknown – a winding desert byway that disappears into the mirage of the horizon. When there’s nothing except you and the road, you can be yourself without fear of what the world might think of you.

  He always liked the open road, but hardly ever drove anywhere anymore. In the age of online-this and instant-that, people no longer wanted to take the time to absorb nature around them – especially nature in the middle of nowhere.

  It was on a Saturday afternoon after a quick stop at the city bank that he hit the road; peel out towards the horizon leaving behind only tire-tracks and dust in the face of the man who ran everything from money to freedom.

  He tuned through the radio stations hoping to find some music, but radio stations out in this part of the world belonged to DJ’s who loved the sound of their own voices. As he searched for a music station, he stumbled upon a news bulletin about something to do with a shooting, but continued tuning until he found some music.

  He hated listening to the news – it was always bad news. Ever since he heard about the death of Milla Holly the singer the year before he decided to stop listening to the news all together.

  He passed a sign that read, last gas for 100 miles and wondered whether he should stop for gas – though he knew that should he not, he might get stuck on the side of the road.

  About half a mile further on up the road he pulled into the dusty gas station and received a not-so-warm welcome from the hill-billy owner who sat on a rocking chair chewing on a single wheat. The hill-billy adjusted his crotch before getting up and walking over to the car.

  His smile was met by an uninterested “Yeah?” from the hill-billy.

  “I need some gas, please.” Jack said.

  “No shit.” The hill-billy said and took the wheat from his mouth, “We’re the last gas station for a hundred miles.”

  Confused by the lack of customer-orientated service, Jack took out his wallet.

  “I have twenty bucks.” Jack said.

  The hill-billy glanced at the duffle bag on the passenger seat and then gestured with a nudge of his head.

  “You’re going somewhere?” The hill-billy asked, “You’re traveling light…”

  “Yeah.” Jack said a bit uneasy, and pushed the bag to the floor.

  The hill-billy stared at the driver with model-like looks and then walked over to the rusty, old gas pump as Jack glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.

  Jack was having second thoughts about stopping for gas at the rundown station and wondered whether the hill-billy was planning on killing him and wearing his skin like most horror movies would like you to believe happens on cross-country road trips.

  “You mind hurrying up?” Jack asked out the window.

  A baffled hill-billy glanced back at him in the rear-view mirror.

  “What’s the rush?” The Hill-billy asked, “You in a hurry or something?”

  “Something.” Jack said.

  He glanced down at the bag on the floor of the passenger’s side and wondered whether he’d have enough gas to get where he was heading. He had more cash in the bag, but the old geezer working the pump seemed too nosy and Jack hated nosy people who had a thousand questions to ask.

  The sound of the nuzzle being lifted out and being placed back on the pump signalled Jack that it was time to head out again. As the dirty, toothless geezer approached, he rolled his window up more than two thirds of the way and shoved the money out through the opening – he didn’t trust this old goat as far as he could throw him.

  “Keep the change.” Jack said and switched on the ignition.

  “There isn’t any.”

  “Keep it anyway.” Jack said and peeled out.

  The open road stretched out before him again and he felt free again – he felt like he was suffocating at the gas station, but the deserted byway made him feel liberated.

  He tuned the radio again; skipping through another news bulletin broadcast as ‘we interrupt to bring you this breaking news’. Breaking news has always simply been based on the target audience’s perspective – the farther away from the disaster or accident you were, the more people had to die for it to be news-worthy and the closer you were to the incident, the clearer it became how many of the details the news got wrong.

  He finally got to a radio station playing golden oldies and country music from eras gone by and quickly found himself humming along to Johnny Cash’s ‘General Lee’, despite hearing it for the first time.

  About a mile further he had the pressing urge to pee and pulled off on the side of the road to drain the lizard in the only bush for as far as the eye could see. As he whipped out junior – who wasn’t small at all – he kept a close eye on the horizon on both sides for any approaching cars. He wasn’t much of an exhibitionist, but the thought of a car driving by and seeing him take a leak thrilled him just a bit – but also stressed him a little bit.

  He shook off the last few drops of urine, popped the lizard back into its denim prison and zipped himself up as he walked back to the car.

  He spotted something in the distance, but it was difficult to tell what exactly it was as the image fluttered like a mirage on the heat waves that flowed across the horizon. He stood and stared at the vague image a moment longer and then it was gone – confirming his suspicions that it might’ve been a mirage after all.

  He glanced down at the car’s broken air-conditioning and remembered a documentary once stating that heat exhaustion could cause delusions and wondered how Alex was doing.

  Jack and Alex was the only same-sex couple in their little town of 500 people and loved by all - who wouldn’t love two life-loving guys who always smiled at the world even when the life they greeted handed them lemons?

  And they always got lemons in abundance as if Murphy’s Law singled them out as its target every chance it got, but somehow they always got by – unwilling to give up on life or each other.

  When Alex got sick Jack refused to give up on him – even when the chemo didn’t work – so when he heard about an experimental treatment in the city that promised 98% recovery he knew he had to try and get Alex into the program, but the trials were expensive as shit.

  That’s why he drove the 120 miles to the city to see whether he could get a loan from the bank, but as luck would have it he was met by Murphy at the bank with a basket of lemons.

  With no credit record and an unsteady income, the loan officer at First National Bank said that he was a risk the bank wasn’t willing to take. Promises to pay back the loan finally led to begging and pleading, but the loan officer wasn’t willing to budge, but in the end Jack walked out with the money he needed.

  His phoned beeped – it was a message from Alex; I’m here.

  He texted back; A few more minutes and I’ll be there.

  He couldn’t wait to meet up with Alex – it had been a long day at the bank and the drive back was agonising, but the thought of Alex’s smile gave him the strength he needed to continue.

  About fifteen miles further on up the road he turned left ont
o a dirt road which led him to a ravine where a 1978 Chevy waited for him in the shade of the only tree there. As he pulled up, Alex got out of the Chevy and rubbed the back of his bald head and smiled at the man he loved.

  “You had me worried there for a moment.” Alex said as Jack got out of the car.

  “You always worry about nothing.” Jack said and gave Alex a kiss.

  “Did things go our way at the bank?” Alex asked.

  “Not exactly.” Jack said, “Plan B didn’t go as smoothly as I planned – I shot the guard, but don’t worry; he’s still alive. It’s all over the news...”

  “…So we’ll just have to lie low for a while.”

  “But –”

  “I’m fine.” Alex said with a tender smile, “Promise. I can still hang on for a week or two – promise. I’m not going anywhere yet.”

  He had his doubts about Plan B back at the bank when he went back to the car for the gun, but seeing the intense love in Alex’s eyes made it all worth it. He did what he had to in order for Alex to live and he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

  “We should get rid of the getaway car.” Alex said, “The police will be looking for it.”

  Jack nodded in agreement, walked over to the car he drove up in and lowered the handbrake. The two of them watched as the car slowly rolled forward and disappeared over the edge of the ravine. Alex picked up the bag of money and slipped his other hand in Jack’s as they walked back to the Chevy.

  “We could go to that lakeside cabin up at Silver Creek until things die down?” Alex suggested.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Jack got in on the driver’s side and lay his hand on Alex’s thigh as he flashed him a smile. Despite being handed lemons all their lives, it somehow felt like things might work out for them and that they’d be okay. A week from now Alex would join the cancer trials and a few months from now they’d be sipping Pina Colada’s on white sandy bay somewhere.

  “Hit the road, Jack.” Alex said.

  The End