Cyclops Road

by Jeff Strand

  Before I say anything, Harriett closes her umbrella, takes off her backpack, and gets inside. She's absolutely drenched. "Thank you," she says, closing the door. "I thought my umbrella would do a better job of serving its purpose."

  "I couldn't just leave you out there like that. I guess I should've grabbed a towel from home."

  "It's fine," she says. She takes an orange towel out of her backpack and dries off her face. "I apologize for dampening your vehicle."

  "My vehicle will be okay."

  She puts on her seatbelt and I resume driving.

  "I swear I'm not making fun of you," I say, "but I've got a lot more questions about the Cyclops thing. If you truly don't want to talk about it, I'll respect your wishes, but I feel like there's a ton of stuff left for me to learn."

  "You can ask whatever you want. If it's not appropriate for me to answer, I won't."

  "Where's the Cyclops?"

  "Arizona."

  "Right, you told me that, but specifically where? Which city?"

  "I don't know," says Harriett, rubbing the towel through her hair.

  "You don't know?"

  "Correct."

  "So, uh, is somebody going to tell you when you get closer?"

  "I'm guiding myself."

  "And how does that work?"

  "It's simply a feeling. I thought I had to walk the whole way or lose the path and have to start over, but that doesn't seem to be the case."

  "So it's like an internal GPS?"

  "You know perfectly well that I don't know what you mean by GPS."

  "An internal compass?"

  "To avoid making this too convoluted I'll say yes."

  "Okay," I say. "You're traveling based on a gut feeling of the right direction. I'll go with that. Next question: how do you know there's a Cyclops?"

  "It's written."

  "Where?"

  Harriett sighs. "It's a prophecy, all right? I'm doing this based on a prophecy. Are you happy now?"

  "I'm neither happier nor less happy."

  "It's on a scroll. A papyrus scroll with ink that may or may not be blood. Not an ancient scroll, but my parents had it before I was born."

  "And you're the Chosen One?"

  "I would never display such ego as to call myself the Chosen One. I have a destiny. That doesn't mean I require a pretentious name."

  "At least you've got a career path. I changed majors three times in college."

  "You swore you wouldn't make fun of me."

  "That wasn't making fun of you," I say. "It was a joke. They're not the same thing. I apologize anyway."

  "Apology accepted."

  "So, a prophecy on a scroll told your parents to train you to kill a Cyclops?"

  "Basically, yes."

  "How hard is it to kill one of those things? I watched you beat up a few muggers. Is a Cyclops more of a challenge?"

  "Significantly. You can't slay a Cyclops on your own. Along the way, I'll be gathering a band of three heroes and acquiring a crucial weapon from the bottom of a well."

  "Where along the way?"

  "I'm not certain."

  "Do they know you're coming?"

  "I don't know."

  "Okay, well, again, I promise that I'm not making fun of you, but in this century we've got something called social media. You could gather your band of heroes there, and let them know you were on your way. It would be a lot easier for everybody."

  "This is not supposed to be easy. We're off to slay a monster that has overtaken an entire town."

  "Right, right." I'm not sure if I should let the whole thing drop, or continue to discuss her madness. I decide to discuss her madness. Maybe if she realizes the gaps in logic of this venture, she'll become saner. "Wouldn't a Cyclops overtaking a town be a time-sensitive issue?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, I'd think a Cyclops could devour a lot of people while you were walking across the United States. Maybe he's been eating people since before you were born. Why spend so much time training you? I'm not trying to be obnoxious and poke holes in your story, but if there's a legitimate Cyclops threat I don't get why there isn't more urgency."

  Harriett nods. "Trust me, I have thought about that for most of my life. If it were up to me, I would have started on this journey when I was eight years old. But the truth is, I will arrive when the time is right."

  "It feels like the right time would be before people start getting eaten."

  "And hopefully the prophecy agrees with you."

  "Am I offending you with all of this nitpicking?"

  "Not yet. I'll knock you unconscious with my pole when you do."

  My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

  "That was humor," Harriett informs me.

  "I sort of knew that."

  "It's not my most well-honed skill. I've always focused on other areas."

  "We can't all be funny."

  "Are you funny?"

  "It depends on who you ask."

  "What if I asked your late wife?"

  "She would say yes, but she would sort of roll her eyes while she was saying it. At least if I were in the room."

  "How did she die?"

  "Cancer."

  "Was it quick? I mean, by the standards of the disease?"

  "Not really."

  "Does that make it better, because you had time to say goodbye? Or would it have been better if she was taken away completely without warning?"

  "That's one ghoulish question."

  "Was it inappropriate?"

  I shake my head. "Nah, it's okay. From a purely selfish perspective, I wanted every minute I could spend with her. For her sake, I wish it had been quicker. A middle ground between 'no warning' and 'extended suffering' would have been nice."

  "I can relate to that."

  "Can we go back to talking about the Cyclops?"

  Harriett shrugs. "You're the one providing transportation."

  "I know that you've been pretty isolated from the rest of the world, but these days there are satellites everywhere. They can read a license plate from outer space. How could a creature take over an entire town and you're the only one who knows about it?"

  "Perhaps it's not a very large town."

  "Still..."

  "And perhaps I'm not the only one who knows."

  "Still..."

  "And perhaps it hasn't happened yet."

  "That's the most logical answer, which is scary because that's a scenario where we're predicting the future."

  "Correct. That's what prophecies do."

  "What if it's wrong?"

  "If it's wrong, then the town is safe."

  "And you're okay with that?"

  "Are you asking if I want people to be enslaved by a monster?"

  "No, no, I'm just asking if..." I feel like my line of questioning is becoming unintentionally antagonistic, so I don't finish my sentence.

  "If there's no Cyclops, then yes, all of my preparation was for nothing. I've wasted my life. I'll have extreme difficulty coping with that revelation. But it's something for me to deal with at the end of the journey, not the beginning."

  "I can't argue with that."

  Harriett looks out the side window. "We're travelling quickly."

  "Should I slow down?"

  "No. I like this. It's very efficient."

  "You should try a plane."

  "No, thank you."

  "Do you still feel like we're going in the right direction?"

  "Yes. I'm certain that we are." She dabs at her face with the towel. "Did I mention that this seat is very comfortable?"

  "It really isn't, not compared to other cars, but it's better than walking in the rain."

  Harriett closes her eyes.

  A few moments later, I wonder if she's fallen asleep.

  She can't possibly trust me well enough to have fallen asleep in my car, can she?

  Trust is probably irrelevant. She's simply not scared of me. She knows that if I reached over there, she'd snap
awake and shatter my wrist into eight hundred bone fragments.

  Should I wake her up or let her sleep?

  I'll wake her up in half an hour.

  I spend the next half hour thinking about how crazy this is. After Becky died, I knew my life would change, but I didn't think it would change this much. What the hell am I doing?

  Exactly thirty minutes later, I decide not to wake her up. It's still raining, and she looks peaceful.

  After another half hour, we're out of the rain, but she still looks peaceful.

  Screw it, I think. I have nowhere else to be, and I keep driving.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Harriett opens her eyes as I shut off the engine.

  "Where are we?" she asks.

  "Near Tallahassee."

  She looks at her wristwatch, which is one evolutionary step away from a timepiece that she'd keep in her pocket attached to a chain. It's just after 2:00 a.m.

  "Why did you take me so far?"

  "It's not that far. We're still in Florida. I figured you could use the rest."

  We're at a gas station off of I-10 West. If I hadn't needed to refuel, I would've driven even longer. I should be exhausted, but I'm wide-awake, and not in a jittery "too many energy drinks" way.

  Harriett gets out of the car. I can't tell if she's pleased or upset.

  "I thought about waking you up to make sure we were still going the right way, but this is the way to Arizona, so I assumed that we were."

  Now she looks a bit panicked. Damn it. I should have woken her up. What was I thinking?

  "I need to use a public restroom," she says, walking toward the gas station.

  I start to pump gas. I have to say, this drive has really helped me feel better. Not about losing my wife, but about quitting my job. I'm no longer sick to my stomach. I can foresee a future where I'm not consumed by thoughts of what have I done? Oh, God, what have I done?

  When the tank is full, I head inside for my own restroom break. The men's room smells almost too pleasant (strawberries, with a hint of lilac) and when I emerge Harriett is gazing at the row of candy with fascination.

  "Look at all of these," she says. "Can you believe it?"

  "Have you had candy before?"

  "Of course I have. Chocolate is wonderful. But I never imagined that so many varieties existed!"

  I walk over to the next aisle and grab a bag of beef jerky and a bottle of water. When I return, Harriett has her arms full of sugary treats.

  "Need a basket?" I ask.

  "Yes, please."

  I bring her a basket. She dumps her armload of goodies into it, then starts adding more.

  "You know, we're not at Willy Wonka's factory, where it's a once in a lifetime chance. This stuff is available pretty much anywhere."

  "Whose factory?"

  "I'll meet you outside," I say.

  I pay for my jerky and water and walk back to the car. Harriett comes out a few minutes later, holding a bulging plastic bag.

  "In my family, candy was reserved for special occasions. And special occasions were rare. I have no plans to exhibit wild behavior in other areas, but I am going to have as much chocolate as I want."

  "You know it'll make you sick, right?"

  "I'll cease eating before that happens."

  I grin and open the car door. It's not my job to protect her from an upset tummy.

  "When do you need to be back home?" Harriett asks.

  "I don't."

  "You don't have responsibilities?"

  "Not anymore. I quit my job right before I met you."

  Harriett stares at me for a moment. "Then you must be the one written of in the prophecy. The Companion. Your destiny is to accompany me."

  "Ummmm..."

  She smiles. "That, also, was humor."

  "Good one. You got a genuine jolt of panic out of me."

  "I'd like to discuss business with you. I'm extremely pleased by the discovery that I don't need to walk the entire way in order to follow the correct path. That will make things infinitely easier. What would you charge to transport me to my destination?"

  "Oh, uh, I don't think I can..."

  "I understand."

  But maybe I should. Harriett may be crazy, but at this point I feel safe in saying that she's not "steal your eyeballs while you sleep" crazy. And she was raised crazy—she's not mentally unstable herself. Maybe this trip would be good for me. Maybe a few days to clear my head is exactly what I need before I start worrying about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life.

  "I wouldn't charge you anything," I say. "I'd ask you to pay for expenses. Food, gas, and hotel."

  Harriett nods. "That's more than fair."

  "But I have to be completely honest with you. I don't believe that there's a Cyclops. I'm sorry; I just don't."

  "That's entirely understandable. You barely know me. If you immediately believed my story with no evidence, I'd have to assume that you were delusional, and I wouldn't want to be locked in a moving vehicle with you."

  "Well, good."

  She extends her hand. "It's an agreement, then."

  "I reserve the right to drop you off at any time."

  "Understood."

  I shake her hand. "It's an agreement."

  * * *

  "So delicious," says Harriett, licking traces of chocolate off her upper lip. "So, so delicious."

  "You should really pace yourself."

  She tears open another package. "This one has chocolate and peanut butter," she announces. "What kind of mad genius would think of such a thing?"

  "And that's not even the highest quality chocolate," I inform her. "We'll have to stop by a real candy shop on the way, if you can still squeeze out of the car door by then."

  "I understand why so much of the population is overweight." She takes a bite, and then makes a noise that I'm positive she doesn't realize sounds like sexual ecstasy.

  She finishes it up, then dabs at the corners of her eyes.

  "Are you crying?" I ask.

  "Certainly not."

  "Seriously, are you crying over the chocolate?"

  "I never imagined that something so delicious could exist," she says with a sniffle. "I've been deprived for so long. I don't think that what my parents gave me on special occasions was even real chocolate. I want to melt this down and bathe in it."

  "We're kind of getting into weird territory now."

  "Why?" she asks. "Why wouldn't you bathe in chocolate if it's so readily available?"

  "Just don't start smearing it on yourself. What you do outside of my car is your business."

  "Don't worry. I have decorum."

  * * *

  Harriett is hunched over by the side of the interstate, wiping her mouth post-vomit. I'm a horrible, terrible, evil person for being amused by this.

  "Are you done?" I ask.

  "I'm not certain. I don't believe so."

  "Take your time."

  She vomits again. I hope she's not getting any in her hair.

  "I've got some napkins whenever you're ready," I say.

  "I'm ready."

  I walk over and hand her the napkins. She spits a couple of times, then wipes her mouth.

  "Have we learned a little lesson?" I ask.

  She raises an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that it wasn't worth it?"

  "I guess not."

  "The stomach pain and regurgitation were a small price to pay," says Harriett, returning to the car. "I'll let some time pass to give my body an opportunity to recover, but chocolate bars and I are far from through."

  * * *

  Harriett sleeps until sunrise. Now we have a bit of a problem, because I'm finally feeling the impact of staying up all night, and it's not as if Harriett can take over the driving. We should have planned this better.

  "New Orleans," she says, without opening her eyes.

  "What?"

  "Our first hero lives in New Orleans. It's a city in Louisiana. It just came to me. Is that on the way?"

>   "Yeah, actually, it is. We can stay on I-10. It's a little over an hour away."

  "Perfect."

  "How did that come to you? Did you hear a voice in your head that said 'New Orleans'?"

  "Nothing that blatant. It's a feeling. I'm not sure if I can describe it accurately."

  "When will you know who the person is?"

  "I'm not certain."

  "So, I mean, could we end up driving around for weeks trying to find him or her?"

  "I hope not."

  "Do you have a Plan B?"

  "No."

  "Should we brainstorm one? We've got an hour."

  Harriett shakes her head. "For now, I'm going to consider this a one-path journey."

  "New Orleans is fun. I wouldn't mind spending a couple of days there, if it takes you a while to find the person. In the meantime, I hate to say this, but I'm going to need to rest for a bit. I'm fine with sleep deprivation. I just need a couple of hours to recharge."

  "Of course. I'll watch over you during your slumber."

  "You don't actually need to watch over me. We'll pull into a rest area and I'll be fine."

  "I feel like I should."

  "Why?"

  "It's just a feeling."

  "What kind of feeling?"

  "A feeling as if I should watch over you during your slumber."

  "I'm not comfortable with that feeling."

  "You don't trust me to protect you?"

  "I totally trust you to protect me. I don't like the idea that you think you need to."

  "Nobody is pursuing us, if that's what you're worried about."

  "I never thought anybody was," I say. "Although now you've kind of implanted the idea."

  "I shouldn't have said anything. I won't actually watch over you. I'll merely sit in the car while you sleep."

  "I can make it to New Orleans without falling asleep at the wheel, no problem. Maybe we should do that, to get you closer to the, uh, feeling of where the hero is."

  "I'd rather you be as well-rested as possible while operating this vehicle."

  Nine miles later, we pull into a rest area.

  "I'm going to walk around and be one with nature for a while," says Harriett. "Sleep well."

  She gets out of the car, taking her backpack and mugger-whacking stick with her. I recline back the seat, close my eyes, and am asleep within seconds.