A Quarter Life

Rattlesnake

'Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong'

Denver did sing it to feel everyone like him, more depressed, more sad. Eventually? Melancholic and alcoholic. Who knew?

Mike was driving, smoothly on the road. The roadside trees were feeling the breeze, more like in a hot summer day.

To the place where he belonged? Where did he belong to? Earth? Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? There was nothing. He belonged to a void, a simple void, filled with nothingness.

He was driving in a slow speed. The song was on his head. His head was hurting, not because of the song, because of the pain rambling around his head.

The day was very hectic, very rough. He needed a break. Permanent one? He didn’t know. What was permanent, anyway? His scars around the nose? The sun? Nothing. Nothing lasted forever, unless they named it a myth. Myths lasted forever. The kids never saved a coin in their piggy banks, but surely put their broken teeth under the pillow.

He laughed. For myths? He didn’t know. Maybe, it was for the myths.

He could see the sunflower field aside. The yellow curtain was overwhelming, he could see them. He could see them all day long, all year long.

On the other side, there was a barren field, nothing on the ground. Nothingness again. Country roads had nothing on them. He had nothing.

The car stopped, slowly. He didn’t know why. He checked the fuel indicator. It was showing empty. It was strange to him. He clearly remembered he filled up plenty of gas last night, plenty.

He got out of the car, alone. The roads were empty. He knew, country roads had nothingness.

He checked the fuel duct. It had a quite enormous hole. He saw it, he couldn’t find the reason. Why was everything full of nothingness?

He pushed the car to the roadside. The roads could see him, struggling with the bandage on head, pain removal cream being sweaty on the jaw.

The car was useless, like the bandage, like the cream. He could smell the dense odor of sunflower. Sunflower never had any odor. He just felt that, by his own. The sunflower, it also had nothing.

Why did sunflower have to look at the sun? Why couldn’t they look at each other, feel each other? Why was nature so cruel?

He waited, waited for a car to pass by. He had no other choice. Choice had nothingness.

He could see a red truck, coming towards him. He waved to the truck. The truck stopped there.

The driver said, 'Ya boy, whatcha doing in the middle?'

He looked at the driver. He was old, he had a grumpiness in his face. The grumpiness surely showed much, much things about him. Mike learned one thing, never to get on his truck.

He said, 'Sir, my fuel duct is broken. I wonder if you have anything to fix that?'

The driver looked confused, 'I don’t know lad. Maybe no, but I can give you a lift.'

He said, 'No thanks, I'll find a way out.'

The driver saluted, 'Then no luck mate, so long.'

The truck went away. He again was all alone, close to melancholy. The roads were straight, the fuel duct was broken, like his jaw.

That was when he saw the Cadillac. A blue Cadillac, moving slowly, coming towards him. He could see the driver, it was a lady. Not a girl, a lady. She was smoking like the rich man's wife. Which rich man? He didn’t know.

He was beside his broken car. He looked at the window. There was the manuscript. Would he hide it?

“The death was in front of me. Not like with trident, or something like the fictional character to scare us in childhood, but with a rifle, a f*****g rifle on my back head. I could see nothing.

No, not exactly, I could see Sergeant, a fearless Sergeant, fearing to be dead like a coward. I saw Ruth, a death chooser, regretting the choice, regretting the goddamn sweat.

My regrets? I regretted not seeing Reeve. I regretted not loving Emily the way she deserved. I regretted....myself.

And then, all regrets, collided.

They heard a rambling sound, a giant rambling sound. They couldn’t understand.

We ourselves were very much confused. The sound wasn’t usual, but I felt it familiar.

Suddenly, an immense level of firing started at us, at the enemy army to be exact. They were helpless to this immense fire rain. They were truly helpless. They tried to run indiscriminately. Some tried to fire back, but failed to make an impact.

Then we saw it. It was the tank, the tank Noah quite destroyed, curiously.

I looked at the head. Then I could hear the voice, 'So, whassup, you drunk motherfucking faggots?'

Reeve, the guy with hot metal rod scratches, the slave who outsmarted everything, was on the tank.

Sergeant stood still, surprisingly, 'This motherfucker, repaired the tank, without me knowing. This motherfucker.'

Reeve shouted, 'Ya know, you are alive today for this motherfucker. Be a little grateful, you farming soldier.'

Reeve got out of the tank. The enemies were dead, mostly, on the ground.

Reeve saw one, moving to reach the borderline, last hope to survive.

Reeve caught him by the hair, pulled him up, 'You like breaching, ha? Let's breach you from the death for a moment.'

Reeve spat in his mouth, he could feel the disgust.

The guy was taken to the garage. Unfortunately, he died, after several minutes.

We all were sitting in the garage.

Sergeant started, 'How the hell did they enter here?’

Ruth said, 'They breached without any pain, any sound.'

I asked, 'Does that mean anything now?'

Ruth said loudly, 'A lot. It could mean they had the map. Some informer, some snake in us rattled and gave the map.'

Reeve was silent.

Sergeant was in distress, 'How could that be?'

Reeve said, 'It’s half true.'

I said, 'Which half?'

He lit a cigarette, 'About the snake. Somebody sure rattled here, being their man.'

Ruth shouted, 'I knew it.'

Reeve continued, 'But he never gave a map.'

Ruth was in rage, 'And how're you so sure?'

Reeve explained, 'If you see the map, you can see the borderline behind the kitchen and all that. The side is highly fenced, and guards ran around them last few days. It wasn’t breached.'

Sergeant said, 'So, what's the truth about the other half?'

Reeve was silent.

Ruth was angry, 'Serge, I think we can clearly see the culprit. This guy, this motherfucking thief, for some money, sold out the camp. Why do you think he ran to the tank? To be a hero. He brought the Japanese, he killed them to be hero. He didn’t even say about the repair.'

Reeve said nothing. He got up and went up to the door.

Ruth was blabbering in rage. Sergeant was confused and depressed. And me? I was crying, crying to see Reeve being accused.

I went out. I saw him finishing his cigarette, in one corner of the ground.

I went up to him. He kept his silence.

I said, 'Don't take Ruth seriously. He says anything while angry. Let's go to sleep.'

He exhaled a puff, 'Wanna know the truth?'

I was s**t scared. Was it he, the whole time?

He said, 'Follow me' and started to walk. I went to follow him. He was going to the kitchen. I had no clue why.

When I got inside, I got the clue. There was a big hole, big enough for a man to move and climb, on the floor, it was a getaway.

He said, 'The traitor didn’t give the map. He gave a safer pathway, to get the job done.'

I was still in confusion.

He turned off the light of the kitchen, and started walking away.

He said, 'Let's sleep, we'll see the culprit tomorrow.'

I was even more confused.

Who could be the heinous culprit, and was still breathing around?”