Together We Will Go

by J. Michael Straczynski

  MARK ANTONELLI: So what do I do in the meantime?

  SHANELLE: Nothing. From now on you’re just another passenger, on probation, and we can boot your sorry ass off the bus any time we want and go on without you.

  LISA: And if that happens, you won’t report the bus stolen because you’re going to agree on this recording that you’re okay if we take off with it. You asked us to sign a waiver with you, so this recording is your waiver with us.

  MARK ANTONELLI: You good with this, D?

  DYLAN: I signed on to drive the bus. I’ll keep doing that as long as somebody needs me to take them somewhere.

  MARK ANTONELLI: And what if I say no?

  THEO: Then we get off the bus right now and wipe the server. You get nothing, and this all ends right here.

  KAREN: So are you in or out?

  MARK ANTONELLI: Then I guess I’m in, with this, and with you taking the bus if it comes to that. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this went down the way it did. You’re right. I should have told you the truth from day one. To try and explain what I did and why in more detail, when I first had the idea I thought I could—

  LISA: Okay, great, listen, I’m about to pass out from lack of food, so I’m going back inside to get something to eat. Anybody wants to come with me, let’s go.

  THEO: I think they’re still serving breakfast for another half hour.

  VAUGHN: I have to be honest, Mark, I’m very disappointed in you. It really didn’t have to be like this.

  MARK ANTONELLI: I know, and I’m sorry, I just—

  END RECORDING

  * * *

  Karen_Ortiz

  I don’t think Mark really understood how close he came to getting kicked off the bus, but that seems to have gradually sunk in as everybody froze him out the rest of the day. He’d come up to one of us and start talking, like he was trying to make amends, as if none of it had happened, and we’d walk away while he was still talking. I’ve never been a big believer in shunning people, but it’ll be worth it if he learns something from this. It’s certainly better than getting his ass dumped by the side of the road while we drive off, and honestly, some of us still want to do that. As someone who grew up watching old episodes of Lost in Space, I don’t see how we can justify keeping our own personal Dr. Smith aboard the Jupiter 2 on our journey through the stars. They should have pushed him out the airlock by episode two. And so should we.

  * * *

  Mark

  This is the third time I’ve tried to write this, and frankly, after that ambush on the bus, I don’t know if I should even try. I don’t know where I fit in. It’s not my story anymore, I have no control over it, they’re in charge now, I can’t even access the files. I considered saying the hell with it and getting off the bus, but technically I still own this crate and I’m not sure I want to let it out of my sight until absolutely necessary.

  Besides, there’s a part of me that still wants to see this through to the end, whatever that end happens to be. So I guess I’ll stick around for now.

  Did I screw up? Yeah, probably, but it’s easy for them to sit in judgment after the fact and say, You could’ve done this better. I didn’t have the benefit of foresight when I put this whole thing together. I did the best I could. They can say Most of us would’ve shown up anyway even if you’d told the truth from the beginning all they want, but they don’t actually know that’s true any more than I do, so I don’t think it’s right to blame me for hedging my bets, or for them to say this whole thing was a lie. It’s not. I showed up, I had the bus, I stocked it with water and drinks and chips, I took in everyone as promised, and until everything went sideways we were still on course for San Francisco. The only difference was in what would have happened after we got there.

  So yeah, I think they’re overreacting, but since nobody’s interested in my point of view, I’m going to stop defending myself. The situation is what it is. I’m just going to sit quietly in the back until we get at least as far as Denver and see where this goes.

  And from here on out, everybody can buy their own goddamned chips.

  * * *

  SunnyShanelle

  “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  I was about to get on the bus but when I turned and saw Vaughn’s face looking ten kinds of serious I stepped back. “Sure, what’s up?”

  For a man who seemed ready to say something important a second earlier, he took a long time to find the first set of words that’d get him there. “I like you, Shanelle,” he said. “I like you a lot.”

  “I like you too, Vaughn.”

  “I know, and that’s…” He didn’t say, That’s the problem, but I could see that’s where he was going, so I waited for the rest of it. I decided it didn’t mean anything when I took your hand, so let’s forget that ever happened, okay?

  “The other day, you said I was a good man. But I’m not a good man. I’ve done… well, I’ve done some pretty bad things.”

  “You were listening when I talked about all the stuff I did, right?”

  “I was, and it made me think that it’s only fair to let you know what I’ve done, and who I am, in case you change your mind about—”

  “About holding hands?”

  “About anything,” he said. “So I’m going to give you access to all my journal entries. Easiest that way.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Vaughn.”

  “I know. But I want to.”

  “So what parts should I be looking for?”

  He hesitated, then said, “You’ll know it when you get there.”

  “Okay, but if it turns out this is about you peeking up somebody’s skirt when you were nine, I’m gonna be real disappointed.”

  He smiled back at me, but there was no humor in it. “You’ll know it when you get there,” he repeated.

  * * *

  Karen_Ortiz

  Once we got back on the bus, I asked the others where we should go next, but everyone seems to have figured out that Dylan and I are Dylan-and-I, so they’re okay with letting us make that call. So we took off down a road that runs west parallel to the freeway that’s straight enough to keep us on course but will let us do a little sightseeing. No one’s in a hurry to get to the Utah border knowing the decision that’s waiting for us. We know it’s there, the same way you know gravity’s there, gently but constantly pulling you toward it, and we’ll deal with that when the time comes.

  For a long while there was nothing but the road. Nobody spoke much, emotionally exhausted by the confrontation earlier. Then we started seeing one seriously small town after another, most with less than a hundred people, that had grown up around a single business, like a post office, a train station, or a fertilizer company. The number of people who live there are equal to however many are needed to run that business, along with the churches, schools, bars, shops, and hair stylists needed to look after them, little self-contained islands of people surrounded by miles of small lakes and open land stretching clear to the horizon.

  When I was a girl, I loved to lie on the grass in our backyard and stare up at the sky, digging my fingers into the grass and pretending the sky was the ground, and that if I let go, I’d fall toward it. That’s what it’s like to stand out in the open between these little towns. The sky is so ridiculously big and blue, and the land so wide and flat, that a few times I got dizzy and started laughing because it felt like I was going to fall up into the sky and keep on going forever. Dylan probably thinks I’m a little nuts, but really, would I be here otherwise?

  In the past I kept my crazy thoughts to myself because other people didn’t know how to handle them, but everybody on the bus has something broken sticking out of our skin, so they don’t turn away. I like that they trust me and Dylan enough to leave the pre-Utah decisions to us. After so much drama, they’re happy to not make any decisions for a while, and I don’t mind doing it.

  Falling into the sky is fun!

  * * *

  PeterWilliamRouth

 
This afternoon we rolled into Sterling, the first decent-sized town we’d come across since entering Colorado. It was right out of the 1950s, lots of square office buildings, generic stores, Brady Bunch suburban housing tracts, and a few historic buildings scattered around here and there. We’d just parked at the Wonderful House restaurant (yes, that’s the name), one of those anonymous, boxy, strip-mall Chinese restaurants you always see near freeway exits, when we heard a police siren right behind us. Everybody froze. Okay, I thought, here we go. Typical Routh bad luck. Then the car made a U-turn and took off after somebody who’d just run a stop sign.

  It worked out in the end, but I didn’t like that feeling of helplessness. So after dinner, while everybody else took a walk to scope out the area, I headed across the street to do some shopping. We’d picked this part of town because it’s two blocks from Northeastern Junior College, where most of us will blend in, except Vaughn, so I told him to just scowl at any students he came across. That should convince them he’s a teacher and leave him alone.

  There aren’t a lot of things that scare me, but getting arrested is right at the top of the list because I’m a control freak and the law can take that control away and stick you inside a box where they can do whatever they want and you can’t do shit about it. I don’t care what Dylan’s lawyer friend says, the idea that we’re only walking around free because the person in charge of deciding who gets arrested doesn’t feel like doing it right now isn’t exactly reassuring. That could change in a second, because there’s always somebody with a badge looking to hit their quota for the day, and we could help them with that really fast.

  When I gave Tyler the wakizashi, I lost my ticket out if things go wrong. I had to find a replacement, but apparently there aren’t many stores in Sterling that sell katanas. The most interesting thing I’ve seen so far is the husk of a carefully preserved F.W. Woolworth’s next to a vape shop, and how’s that for your latest update from the culture wars?

  I found a hardware store and searched the tools department until I found the biggest X-Acto knife they had, the #11 Classic Fine Point, which had the longest blade and could cut really deep. I also liked that it’s technically labeled the X-Life. Who doesn’t appreciate dramatic irony?

  No, it’s not a katana or a wakizashi. It’s not even a tanto, the little-girl sword Gogo Yubari used in Kill Bill. But it’s big enough and sharp enough to get the job done fast in case any cops try to storm the bus.

  After that, I went by the college and grabbed a coffee and an ice cream at the student cafeteria and walked around for a while. I’d intended to check out the rest of the town, but I was feeling a bit down, so I went back to the bus, grabbed my bag, and checked into the Sterling Motor Lodge. Usually all of us stay at the same hotel, but this time everybody went their own way. We definitely need a break from each other, even if it’s just for the night.

  The bathroom was one of those fluorescent let’s-overlight-everything-until-it-hurts-your-eyes situations that make your face look pale and washed out. I stared at myself for a long time without really thinking about anything, just looking past my eyes at whatever was on the other side, when my brain said, What are you waiting for?

  If the cops show up, maybe you’ll have time to X-Life your ex-life, and maybe you won’t. Maybe they’ll grab you outside the bus or come to your room or who the hell knows, and you won’t have time to take care of things, and you’ll end up in jail and they’ll put you on suicide watch so you won’t be able to do what you have to do and everything after that is just suffering and embarrassment and judges and sanity hearings and hospitals and what the fuck are you waiting for when you can avoid all of that by just taking care of business right now?

  It was a valid point. This trip wasn’t turning out the way I’d imagined, and while it’s still possible for us to make the journey into what it was supposed to be in the first place, that didn’t change the fact that this whole thing could go sideways in a minute.

  Screw it, I decided. Let’s get this over with.

  I stripped down, put the X-Life on the edge of the tub, and ran the water until it was almost too hot to touch. Funny how I’m okay with dying but don’t want the bathwater to be uncomfortable. It has to be hot enough to make the veins and arteries expand so the blood can evacuate fast; cold water makes the veins shrink and everything takes longer.

  I climbed into the tub and settled down. The water sloshed and rose right to the top but didn’t spill. I’m tidy that way. Then I thought, shit, right now my blood’s still inside my body, so the volume in the tub is stable. But once the blood starts to come out, won’t that add to the volume and make the water overflow? I imagined the maid coming in to clean and stepping in pools of blood before running out screaming like a scene from The Shining.

  Can’t have that, I thought, and grabbed my iPhone on the sink and Googled what is the volume of blood entering a heated tub, but it’s a pretty specific request and I guess nobody ever asked it before because the nearest data I could find only listed the speed at which blood leaves the heart. (Three feet per second. You’re welcome.) To be on the safe side, I let two inches of water out of the tub.

  With that done, I reached behind my shoulder, picked up the X-Life, and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth until I was good and relaxed.

  Okay, I thought. Here we go.

  I didn’t move.

  My thoughts kept drifting back to the others on the bus. We promised to stay together until we reached the Utah border. They’d already been lied to once by Mark; did I really want to add a second broken promise to the list? There was no one to stop me from jumping the line, but the more I thought about it, the more it just felt rude, you know?

  We’ve only known each other for a little while, but in that time we’ve been through a lot together. We’re friends now, and I’ll be honest, I haven’t had a lot of those the last few years. This may surprise you, but I can be kind of a prick sometimes. And though it’s pretty clear that most of the others felt that way about me when I first showed up, eventually we got past it. Kind of like The Breakfast Club with death, y’know? So like I said, we’re friends, and that means something.

  Fine, I thought, and put the X-Life on the floor, let’s ride it out a little longer. But just to be safe I’ll keep the blade in my jacket pocket, close enough to be grabbed fast if needed. I can still make it work, even if the cops force their way in. Easy-peasy.

  As I settled into the tub, the little voice in the back of my head said, That’s a very convenient, very tidy justification for not doing what you know you should be doing, what you said you were going to do. Maybe you’re worried about letting your friends down, and maybe you’re not as committed to following through as you think you are. Maybe you’re looking for a way out of looking for a way out.

  By now the water was starting to get cold, so I pushed the thought away, ran the hot water again until I gained back those two inches, grabbed a bath bomb from a tray on the side, held it high, and dropped it into the water like a grenade about to go off.

  Boom!

  Oooh… lavender…

  * * *

  SunnyShanelle

  I read what Vaughn wanted me to read. Now I just need to figure out what to say to him, and how to say it. Because obviously he’s waiting for me to say something, and the longer he waits the more he’s going to worry. But I can’t think about that right now, I can’t think about anything, not after this—

  * * *

  IamTheo

  From: Theo THX1129@mich.edu

  To: S stillhere2125@gmail.com

  Subject: Hello, Love

  I was thinking about you tonight, a not uncommon event, and wanted to reach out, literally as well as figuratively, but since the distance is greater than the length of my arm, I will have to settle for the latter.

  After some false starts, or more accurately a false middle, the journey I talked to you about seems to be going as hoped for. I have met some fascinating people. We have laughed and cried and b
roken bread and sent two of our group ahead of us to scout the way.

  I’m surprised by how flat the road has been. I’ve never been in Colorado before, so I imagined we would immediately be among mountains and rivers and peaks, because those are the images on all the posters they send out into the rest of the world as bait for the tourists. But so far there’s nary a mountain or even a decent self-respecting hill to be seen.

  After leaving Sterling this afternoon we planned to do some sightseeing, but so far there have been few sights to see, just clumps of houses, empty railroad cars awaiting cargo, industrial buildings, farms, and the occasional trailer park. Our impromptu tour guides, D and K, say we should be in Denver tomorrow, so perhaps then things will pick up a little. But none of that has any bearing on why I thought of you and what I wanted to tell you about.

  As night fell, without a hotel or motel in sight, we pulled over to crash for the night. As usual, my mind was whirring with one thing or another and I couldn’t sleep (a situation you know far too well), so I pulled on the jacket you gave me for my birthday and stepped outside to take a walk. In other parts of the world saying I’m going to take a walk through an area I don’t know all by myself in the middle of the night is an invitation to homicide, but for some reason, such thoughts do not occur around here. There are no passing cars of strangers (well, except for us) and very few clubs or bars, just scatterings of houses and narrow roads that empty after sunset and the world goes to sleep. When there are only a hundred or so people to be found for miles in any direction, the odds of one of them being a serial killer unknown by the rest seem quite small, John Wayne Gacy and Charles Manson being the obvious exceptions, so I wasn’t terribly worried.