Disappearance

by Wiley, Ryan

  Twenty minutes pass and I look down again at the whiskey bottle that's calling my name. Screw it; nobody is here to judge me. I'll just have one sip.

  I pull over to the side of the road and fix my favorite concoction. I make it with only a quarter whiskey and the rest Coke - it is morning after all.

  I drink half of the cup before putting it down, and immediately I feel better. I ask myself why I don't drink more; I'm so happy when I'm intoxicated. Being drunk is also when I get my best ideas. My streamlined payment processor idea came when I was hammered one Friday night. The idea, I think, was slowly forming in the back of my mind, but the alcohol brought it to the forefront and gave me the courage to take action on it. Perhaps drinking now can help me think up a better idea of where to go next.

  After I finish my first glass, I decide it's OK to make another. It seems silly to pull the car over again so I untwist the cap with one hand and start pouring, making sure to keep the car on the road.

  I look at the bottle and see I've drank a lot over the past twenty-four hours. I don't know if I should be proud of this or ashamed. If Abby were watching me she'd be furious at what I was doing. She's the ultimate rule follower and would have no tolerance for this reckless behavior. It's a good thing she isn't here then, because this is fun! I would never do something like this if there were a chance of being pulled over and arrested, but since that ship has sailed I have no problem bending an old rule or two.

  The second glass goes down smoother than the first -- it always does. I know I should stop but I'm reminded of my long drive ahead and figure I might as well keep the party going. I don't even feel tipsy yet.

  Again, it doesn't feel necessary to pull the car over. After all, I'm the world's greatest driving bartender right now. Nobody else in the world can compete. I start pouring my third cup of Jack Daniels. I still don't want to get too drunk, so I make sure I only fill it up about a quarter of the way. When I look to see how I did, I feel the rumble strips from my car veering off the road. This startles me enough to put the bottle down and keep both hands on the wheel.

  No damage done, but it's a nice warning to be more careful. I see no reason to stop drinking, but it might be a good idea to pull over when I make my next drink. I might do that for the next one, but for now I take the Coke and start pouring while making sure my eyes are up and one hand is on the wheel.

  Nobody believes me when I say it, but I believe my thinking and decision-making improves when I'm a little intoxicated. Sure, if I drink eight beers I become a bumbling idiot, but there's a sweet spot in the range of two to four beers where I become a total genius (or so I think).

  If I had three wishes now, the first would be to have things back to the way they were –- except for clowns. They can be gone forever.

  Second, I would ask for a billion dollars, tax-free. I could have a lot of fun with that kind of money, and I'd never have to see my bosses again.

  Finally, I'd wish to have this slight beer buzz feeling all of the time, without any negative side effects.

  Actually, if it weren't the genie from Aladdin I was working with, I'd wish for more wishes -- you always have to try that loophole when given wishes. Then I'd wish for infinite life, striking good looks, and I may even throw in world peace if I'm feeling generous.

  As I drink my third cup, I finally start feeling tipsy and slow down the drinking. This is my smart buzz at work.

  All this alcohol turns my mind to Abby again. If she were here now I'd be putting on my geeky charm. Abby and I have been together a long time, but we've never had a problem in the lovemaking area. I think back to the last time we did it –- the weekend before all this happened. We went out and had a few drinks. When we got home, well, you can figure out the rest.

  Since that option isn't available to me I look for something else to focus my attention on. The only thing I can find is my cup of Jack and Coke, so I start drinking some more. Thinking about Abby makes me depressed. I would give anything to kiss her and hold her. Scratch my previous genie list; my first wish is to have her here by my side.

  I'm a man, and like most men I never cry. I can count on one hand the total number of times I've cried in my entire life. Two close family members, a tragic death of a friend, and the death of the dog I grew up with had me crying in my pillow. I also cried the first time I watched Rudy, but let's not count that one.

  When I look over to the seat next to me -- the empty seat that always has Abby in it during long trips -- I can't help but start crying. I've never felt this sad and lonely before. I miss her. Thinking of her and knowing I can't see her makes me so frustrated I cry even more.

  My eyes are filled with water and I start making weird crying noises -- it's obvious I'm not an experienced crier. I do my best to compose myself as I wipe the tears from my eyes. With this cry I'm letting out all the stress of the past few days. I'm one to keep everything bottled up inside, but I have to admit letting everything out feels good. I should do this more often.

  I look over to the seat next to me, as if looking over would somehow make her magically appear. I can picture her looking at me with those beautiful eyes and a big smile on her face. The picture is so vivid it actually makes me smile.

  I see her singing whatever song is on the radio and holding an imaginary microphone in her hand, which always makes me laugh.

  Abby is the only girl I've ever known who can make me laugh on a daily basis. I guess her wonderful personality is why I married her.

  That seat next to me brings back so many great memories. If only she were here, things would be so much easier.

  When I look back up at the road, I don't like what I see. I've veered off to the left and am headed down a steep hill.

  I grab the steering wheel with both hands and slam on the breaks, but this just makes matters worse. The speed I'm going is too fast, and the hill is too steep.

  My car starts flipping over.

  Chapter 14

  I open my eyes and realize I must have been knocked unconscious. I don't know for sure how many times the car flipped over, but I remember feeling three of them. Now I'm upside-down and still strapped in my seat belt.

  I touch the left side of my head and panic when I feel it's covered in blood. Blood has always made me queasy and this is no exception.

  I work to get myself out of the seat belt, which feels like I'm on a roller coaster. Both of my arms appear to be unbroken but it hurts when I move my left shoulder.

  Fortunately, the roof was smashed down during the crash, so when I unbuckle myself I don't have as far to fall. I make a pretty good thud when I hit the bottom and, despite bracing my fall, I land face first. The impact reveals how much pain my back and legs are in.

  I reach for the door, which feels weird to open upside down. It seems stuck but then I realize it's brushing across the ground and just requires more effort. I don't have much strength but after a couple minutes I get the door open enough to crawl through.

  Once I'm out I lay down on the grass, which is still wet from what must have been an earlier rain. The hill must have been slippery; otherwise I may have been able to regain control.

  It's unpleasant lying here. I turn over to see what kind of damage has been done to the car but feel a sharp pain in my side. I've never had a broken bone in my life so I don't know what it feels like, but the intense pain makes me think I may have broken –- or at least cracked –- a rib. I lift up my shirt, afraid to see what it looks like. It's bruised, but I can't tell if it's broken.

  I attempt to stand up, but the pain is too great and brings me to my knees. I try to remain calm but it's hard. My head is throbbing; the blood seems a good indicator of why. I try to get up again, and this time I'm able to do so. As long as I keep my torso straight the pain is bearable. Now that I get a good look at the car, I'm not pleased with what I see.

  "DAMN IT!" I shout.

  The sight of my demolished car hits me like a punch in the gut. What remains of the car is totaled. I turn to the hil
l I slid down and see there are chunks and pieces scattered everywhere. The remains of several bottles of water and other random items have escaped the car during the wreck. Even if I could somehow get the car right side up, it would be no use; Abby's car will never be driven again.

  I look inside the car and don't think I could create a bigger mess of objects if I had a week. Clothes, water bottles, and cereal boxes are weaved together like the aftermath of a violent tornado.

  Only moments ago, everything was fine and I was headed for Mobile. Now, I'm standing near the highway in the middle of nowhere with a car flipped upside-down and my remaining food and water supplies scarce and depleted.

  What can I possibly do now? On the long list of things people in developed nations take for granted, 911 is one of them. If I could make one quick call to 911, an ambulance would be here to take me to the hospital. Sure, it might cost a small fortune, but at least I'd be safe.

  Instead, I weigh my two options: First, I could rot here and die, pouting about how miserable my situation is. The second option – which isn't much better – is to grab what I can and start making my way to the nearest town.

  During normal circumstances the latter option is a no-brainer, but at this point I'm strongly considering lying here and dying. There's a small chance – somewhere very near zero percent - that someone might come along to rescue me. I'm sure I have enough food and water to last me a few days until then.

  The thought of leaving the car and walking for miles and miles is something I have no interest in doing; I've never had less desire to live. If I had a real gun, I could end it all with one pull of the trigger -- a very tempting proposition. I only have a pellet gun though, and I'm not sure what would happen if I held it up to my head and pulled the trigger. Would it be powerful enough to kill me? The only thing worse than dying is dying a slow and miserable death with a few pellets lodged in your head.

  I don't know what makes me think about it, but I pull out my wallet. Inside one of the credit card slots is a picture Abby gave me of herself back when we were first dating. After all these years, I've never had a reason to take it out. I rarely look at it – only when I'm changing or re-organizing my wallet. Now, though, I've never had a more useful reason to keep the picture. It looks like it's been through hell. The edges are worn out and it's wrinkled from being sat on for ten years, but I can still see her perfect face in the middle, virtually undamaged.

  She was so beautiful back then, and even more beautiful today. I turn it over and am surprised to see a message written on the back. Has this always been here?

  Andrew, Wow how can I begin? These past 6 months have been the best of my life. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. Sure, we've had some down moments, but it's been totally worth it. I have so much fun when I'm with you. I've had some crazy boyfriends in the past, and it's nice to finally have a kind, sweet and funny guy like you. I hope the next six months are even better than the first. Love, Abby

  Seeing her handwriting, I can't help but get emotional. Knowing that Abby's small, soft hand wrote this many years ago makes me cry.

  I re-read the note again, paying particular attention to "we've had some down moments, but it's been totally worth it." I try to remember what those might have been. As young kids in college, petty problems seemed so much more important than they really were. I know we had our arguments and we did have some tough times, but it's been so many years since then I can't remember what any of those fights were even about. All I know is, before all this happened, Abby and I have never been better. I've never loved her more and I believe she would say the same.

  Seeing this note rejuvenates my will to live. I have to see Abby at least one more time so I can tell her how passionately in love I am with her.

  Looking at my car, I don't know where to begin. There's an intense smell of gas from the twenty or more gallons that likely poured out everywhere in the trunk. I think it's a miracle the car didn't blow up, but it seems like a ticking time bomb with the engine still hot. I better get everything out while I can.

  I go in the backseat, which looks very unusual with the seats on top. As fast as I can and without moving my side too much, I take the jumbled mess and throw it out onto the ground. All of my clothes are soaking wet from the spilled water bottles, and there's also peanut butter and jelly scattered everywhere on my clothes. I can deal with the stains on my shirts, but I'm more concerned with my food supply being so scarce.

  A few of the cereal boxes managed to break themselves open, but most are intact. At least I have enough cereal to last me awhile.

  My biggest concerns are water and how I'm going to travel with it. I have a suitcase in the trunk but there's no way for me to get to it because of how the car's damaged. I think I'm all out of options until I see the ax sitting in the front seat. That's the only way I'll be able to get into the trunk -- brute force.

  Before I start smashing, I get everything out of the front seat. I'm about halfway finished when I see something that makes my heart sink. It's my gun, but only half of it. Somehow, the crash managed to break the gun into at least two pieces. What an amazingly cheap and worthless pellet gun this turned out to be.

  I get my ax and am moments away from striking the trunk when I remember the gas tanks are inside. Any spark could set it off. I'm not sure how big of an explosion that would cause, but my guess is I wouldn't live to tell about it. It's not worth the risk and I probably wouldn't be able to ax my way into the trunk anyway, so I give up before I even start.

  Looking at the huge pile of stuff on the ground, I decide on the essential things to take. My ax is a given. I figure I can put a couple bottles of water in each pocket, so that's four bottles. I also decide I can wear multiple layers of clothing for warmth. I hope I won't have to sleep outside tonight, but I've learned to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. It's warm now but I'm sure nighttime will be chilly. It's better to have too many layers than not enough, so I put a couple warm sweaters over me.

  I don't have a good place to put cereal boxes, so I'm going to have to carry those by hand. I couldn't be sicker of cereal but I have no other choice.

  My setup is complete: a pair of jeans with four bottles of water stuffed in the pockets, four layers of shirts and sweaters, an ax stuffed in my jeans so I don't have to hold it, two boxes of cereal stuffed under each arm, and two more bottles of water in each hand.

  This is the best my engineering mind can come up with.

  I pay my last respects to my car as if it were an open casket at a funeral. I've had some great memories in this car with Abby; it has taken us many great places. I was hoping it would take me to Mobile, but my moment of stupidity prevented that. I touch the car one last time with my hand and set off on my new journey without it.

  As I start walking, the smell of my breath reminds me I've been drinking. Was it the alcohol or taking my eyes off the road that was most at fault for the crash? Probably the combination of both.

  My main concern now is which way I should go. I try to think how far back it is to the last town I saw but can't remember. This answers my question; I'm better off risking unknown territory than backtracking several miles where I know there's nothing.

  I walk to the highway and am amazed by how slow I'm going. I'd be far out of sight now if I was in Abby's car, but I see a bend in the road ahead and calculate it might take an hour before I get there. If only I were a marathoner, but how someone can run 26.2 miles I'll never know.

  I should be conservative with my food and water, but my extreme thirst demands I drink some water now. Maybe it's the alcohol that dehydrated me, or maybe it's because I have four layers of clothes on with the mild sun beaming down on me. Either way, I chug an entire bottle of water leaving me only five bottles total left.

  I may regret this later but for now I'm satisfied. It's also nice to have one hand free.

  It's only twenty minutes later when I start getting hungry. I check my phone and see it's one thirty. No wonder I'm hung
ry, I usually eat two hours before this. Looking at my phone makes me realize I forgot to bring the charger. Once the battery dies, I'll have no way of telling the time. My phone charger only works in the car, so I didn't bother bringing it, but I wish I had it nevertheless.

  When I do find a town, I plan on breaking into cars until I find one with a spare key. Then, I can drive back and pick up my phone charger. There's probably some other stuff I wouldn't mind having too, but I can only carry so much.

  I try sitting down but the pain in my side is too great. If only I could go to a hospital to have someone look at my rib, arm, leg, and head - not to mention countless bruises and aches I'm sure I'll discover in the morning. Instead, I sit on my knees, which doesn't seem to hurt my torso as much, and start eating some cereal.

  Sitting on this highway eating cereal makes me reflect again on the past few days. It's only been four days since I was driving to work thinking everything was perfect and normal in the world. Now I think of all the stupid decisions I've made to get me to this point. If I could do it over again, I would stay home. There I would have been safe and had months and months of food and water stocked up. If I ran out of something, a grocery store would be right around the corner. I could have lived for years until someone came and found me. And I could have slept in my own bed.

  Instead, I've put my life in serious jeopardy. I could have died in that crash, and now I only have a couple days of water left. I'm leaving my fate in the hopes of a town being close. Why was I so stupid getting in that wreck? There weren't even any cars around! If I think about it anymore I'll get angry, so I grab my stuff and hop back on my feet.

  It's going to be a long walk, and I can imagine a bear coming out of the woods at any time. With just my cheap little ax, I wouldn't stand a chance. I hope my death would be quick and painless.