A Dirt Road at Night

Orbs

We are in the truck about half a mile up the dark, dirt road. The night is setting in, and she has that smile on, excited and ready for whatever is ahead. I feel nervous, the continual glancing and checking and cautioning, cursing at everyone. I hate driving. The road makes me impatient. We’re on this path together, but nobody can properly communicate and it’s frustrating to be out of control.

I like her, and she seems to like me. We are bouncing along this road with just the headlights leading us. She gives me a confident glance, this assuredness that our adventure has purpose. I point at some object in the distance. The headlights reflect two gleaming orbs halfway up a tree ahead.

“What is it?” I ask.

The orbs are motionless. Squinting, I can see the faint outline of a body.

“Maybe a raccoon?” I say, unsure. “Let’s keep going. I think the road winds this way.”

Sleeping

The truck is old. It was a gift from a friend of mine. The shocks are worn, and we jostle down the sinuous road with loud, echoing grinds, the headlights dimming and sputtering to stay lit. She rubs the dashboard and gives it a pat. She feels lucky. I feel the truck struggling to move. I have to press the gas to the floor to get it over some of the steep grades of the mountain. It seems quiet except for the rumble of the engine. It feels like I haven’t spoken for a long time. The radio is well out of range of any towers. I sense the darkness fighting to creep into the cracks in the window. The headlights flickering every time we bump. She is falling asleep, her eyes half open. I drive for an hour, pressing the gas pedal to the floor until the truck lets go. Everything stopped. I roll the truck as far as it can down the road until we come to a valley, trapped on either side by an incline. The headlights slowly dim into darkness.

Snap

“Hey, could you find my lighter in there?” I point to the glove box. She fishes for my lighter and pulls out a pack of matches.

“Is this okay?” She says, handing them to me.

I light my cigarette and roll the window down slightly. The darkness seems infinite, and the truck won’t start. Smoking distracts me from my anxiety, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I take a deep drag from the cigarette and stamp it out in the ashtray. I open the door and let the darkness in as I step out onto the road. Gravel crunches under my boots. The air is thin and biting. I feel lightheaded. I search for the latch under the hood even though I know it isn’t working, maybe it will work this time. I wrench it and hear a snap of brittle, rusted metal. The hood pops open, but I have completely broken the lock. I take out the light on my phone to inspect the mess of wires and tanks with liquids, the intricacies of it make me frustrated. My knowledge of cars is sparse, only the few things I have learned from my father. I keep looking at the engine, but nothing is happening. Nothing is obvious, it’s all just random. I can’t look deeper than the plastic tubes and the metal containers to find the seriousness of the problem. It requires a little knowledge about puzzles and some searching. I fasten the hood to the grill with an old shoelace I found in the back. I climb back into the truck and light another cigarette.

Light

A few days before, we were in the city. Food was cooking on the stove, and we were smoking pot on the back patio. I remember rain or mist, and I was complaining about my job. Our shitty studio apartment felt damp and smelled like drain cultures. Small flies congregated in the kitchen, taking turns flying around the unwashed dishes in dizzy swoops. The TV was always on. A backdrop of noise came from it like a dull stranger. It made the walls disappear and transported me somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t here. Only daylight from the back door or the television would illuminate the apartment. A vacation would expand our perspective. We decided to head north and just be in the woods. My relatives owned a cabin where we could stay. There was enough money to get us there and enough imagination to make it seem like an adventure and less like an escape.

Look

“What should we do?” I say, blowing smoke from my nose.

“I guess just sleep here.” She replies.

“Are you serious? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s so late.” She says.

From the light of the moon, the road ahead of us was a steep incline that wound up the mountain to the left. On the right was a vast darkness that went on for miles, some outlines of trees, a straight drop into a gully. She peered out into darkness. She says,

“It makes me feel empty.”

“Empty how?” I ask.

“Like, the longer I look out there the harder it is to feel anything.”

“Look over here.” I say, pointing ahead.

A figure, motionless at the bend in the road. Two glowing orbs stare at us from a distance. Nothing else exists except for the small form in the road. The air in my nose turns cold and sharp, entering my nostrils in rapid jolts. My heart is beating in my ears. I want to throw up.

“What is it?” I say in one gasping breath.

The figure, paralyzed, stands there on two legs, short and hunched. I have to look away. I look for her face in the dimness of the stars. She turns her head, but the darkness is in the car now. I can only see two glowing orbs where her eyes should be.

“I don’t see anything.” She says.

Dirt

For a long time, the road was straight. The highway took us out of the city and up the mountain. Four lanes turned to two and then at some point, the road became dirt, winding up around through the hills. The daylight made the roads easier to anticipate. We drove and sang and smoked pot as the day slowly turned to twilight. It felt like we were headed in the right direction, but as we kept moving forward my anxiety and doubts swelled as a tiny storm in my stomach. The road signs were so clear until the forest became dense with thick, overgrown vines, tall bushy trees, sagging and curling in every direction. The air became stale with a mossy stench, almost hard to breathe. Unlike any forest I had been to as a child. I was confused that this may be the wrong path. Still, our hearts were full of risk and the eagerness of mystery.

Fire

I hear crunching of tiny feet on rocks as the two glowing spheres sway and dance in the empty black background. A strange figure shifting in place, stout and hunched.

“You don’t see those eyes out there?” I ask, fixated.

“Where? I don’t see anything.” She said.

Both of us are silent for a minute.

“What is happening?” She asks.

The figure grows, taller than the truck, towering above the roof. I have to twist my neck to see the tiny lights flickering in its eyes. A faint ringing starts from far away. It’s as if all the darkness and all my fear and focus were being absorbed into this figure as it sways in the wind. I smell ash and fire, and a nervous storm swells. It feels like nothing exists, like nothing can ever exist like darkness is the only thing left. I feel tired, I feel far away from her, alone and unable to be frightened, unable to speak or to call out to her. I can only see these small eyes, orbs beaming in darkness. It rocks back and forth in a drunken sway and then falls backward, headfirst down the sheer mountainside. And all the light from the moon and the stars comes rushing back, the road and the trees and the night strike back to reality.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Are you joking right now?”

I open the door and throw up onto the gravel.

Maps

I pulled the truck off the side of the road and dug through the back for a map. The sun was just setting, and I felt nervous about driving at night. I had to be sure, to get every detail memorized so I knew where we were going.

“Where is the map?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, don’t we usually keep that bag of maps in the back?”

“Yeah, I’m looking but it’s not here.”

“Well, then it’s not there.”

“Will you check the map on your phone?”

“There’s no service out here. I have one bar.” She waved her phone in my face. I became annoyed.

I asked, “Alright, then do you remember how to get there?”

“Well, we either turn around or continue on this road. What are you gonna do?”

“I guess this is the road then,” I said slapping my hands down on the wheel and starting the car.

“It’s alright,” she reassured me, “We’ll get there.”

I felt lost. The road was not what I remembered from my childhood. We drove along, smelling the pine trees and listening to the gravel grinding under the tires. The sun turned the sky orange and purple as it continued down over the mountain.

Choked

“Are...Are you okay?!” She asks, holding my shoulder.

“Yeah, that was weird. What was that?”

“You keep asking me that. You freaked out and then threw up.” She says, almost laughing.

“Well, I saw something, in the road. Some animal, or something.” I wipe the slime from my lips with my jacket sleeve.

“Weird, what did it look like?”

“Like...nothing. Just eyes in the dark.”

“That’s scary. Now I’m scared.” She leans back in her chair and averts her eyes from the windows.

I turn the key in the ignition. There is a chunk, chunk, chunk, chunk, of the engine trying to turn over. I can feel its tiny spark trying to burn. I give it my hope and turn it again. A fire starts but quickly burns out.

“That’s a good sign,” she says. I can see those eyes in my mind. I don’t dare look up at the road again, not in the dark. I can feel them looking right at me from all directions, looking through me. I feel exposed, naked in the woods. Fear starts wrapping around from the back of my neck. Every cell in my body is vibrating. I want to run and to cry. I want to peel off my skin. I take a deep breath and choke a bit. I exhale and look up. The night seems infinite.

Forward

I had driven this road a thousand times when I was younger. I didn’t understand why it would seem different now. A road with no indication of our direction, no signs, no guides. We didn’t see any other cars or houses. There were no other people on the road except for us. Almost as if we were the only ones who had been here in a long time. The last bit of sun was being swallowed by the nighttime. A couple stars were appearing. We had been driving for too long. I could feel the pit of my stomach growling in disapproval. I ignored it. I smoked cigarettes and focused my anxiety on moving the truck forward. She was talking a bit, about small things, about what she wanted to do when we got there. Swimming and sunbathing mostly. Sleeping, fucking, nothing. It was uplifting, a distraction from the gnawing thought that we were heading somewhere we weren’t meant to be.

Rhythm

“Fuck!” I slam my fist on the wheel.

“It’s okay,” She says, “take a deep breath and we’ll figure this out.”

I take in another soupy, arduous inhale. It fills my lungs halfway.

“It almost started, right? We can get it going again.” She stares at me, searching for validation. I feel angry with her. She’s so calm, rational. She doesn’t see those eyes peering back.

“I don’t know. I don’t know!” My thoughts are spinning.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not though! We’re stuck here! We don’t know where the fuck we are! And I saw some weird shit out there!”

“I don’t think anything was really out there.”

“Okay, fuck! I saw something. I saw something weird!” I take another breath. “Let me check it out.”

I unlock the door and pull the handle. A cool rush of air swathes my face. I step out, crunching gravel. I stand for a moment next to the open door, staring ahead at the spot where the orbs had been. I search, almost hoping to see them again. I step around to the hood and untie the shoelace holding it down. I look again at the engine, knowing I know nothing. I feel like a lamb with my back to the dark road. My legs feel numb, soft, shaking. I’m thinking about slipping, headfirst, through the dark, empty canyon floating with the wind, away toward the trees, toward nothingness. I can feel my heart in my chest. I feel it in my head and in my ears. I can hear every beat as its own rhythm and sound. I take a hard swallow and beat the engine with my fist. Nothing happens except a pain in my hand. The cold wind is like tiny breaths lapping at the back of my neck. I stare into the truck and beg it to start. Looking at its guts exposed, I’m helpless. I try to think of something, anything I can do, but my mind is clouded with a confounding dread that something terrible is about to happen. If I move, I’ll be met with those sinister eyes again. I feel a small touch on my elbow. I flinch and step away.

Surge

She says, “Whoa, you’re tense.”

“Sorry, sorry, I was just distracted.”

“I can tell. I came to see if I could help.”

“I dunno. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay. You wanna sit in the car again?”

We get back in the car, and I have another cigarette. We remain quiet for a while. I’m tired and trying to think of ways to get out of this situation. She doesn’t seem to be worrying at all, content with the circumstances, knowing that we’ll make it out eventually. I don’t understand, why can’t she see the figure? I can’t stand it. I want to run and scream. The cigarette is making me sick. I put it out. She is dozing off when another wave of panic crashes in. I try to breathe but quickly choke. In the dim haze of the moon, I can see the tiny figure in the distance creeping closer. The light of its eyes glowing brighter. Slowly, with small steps, it moves as if encumbered by a heavy weight. All I can see are two burning eyes against a black mass.

“The…re…” The words are obstructed.

It slithers, slowly on two legs, its body undulating in a slinking pattern, coming closer. I grip the steering wheel. I close my eyes and ask for the car to start. Energy swells in my chest as I summon every last sliver of optimism into the turn of the ignition. A surge of light floods the canyon, the engine echoes. The headlights illuminate the dirt road ahead. I open my eyes, searching for the figure. There is nothing but a vacant road and endless trees. She wakes up with the start of the engine and smiles. “It’s alive!”

The truck continues down the winding dirt path.