Mystery Lake

[20] NOT OKAY

However, they still had problems and concerns, especially the fact that their fuel was getting lower and lower the further they drove. The estimate counter on the central tablet was doing the frustrating, spinning circle thing that all computers seemed to do when they had no idea what else to do.

Everyone was on the lookout for a gas station, or the faintest sign that one might be tucked away on a side road. Rationally, Roxie knew there had to be one eventually. However, rationality felt like a distant concept from their experiences today. Happiness still sailed through the sea of her soul, but it had a glassy trepidation, with clouds threatening on the horizon. The irrepressible urge to laugh might still emerge if she coaxed it out, but it had become sadly easy to just let that lifeblood drip off the vine.

Chiara hawkishly scrutinized everything on the dash, hunting for some fuel savings she hadn't considered. Keeping Miranda's phone charged was important, but she searched for something else that could be safely shut off.

The A/C wasn't necessary, with the occasional waft from a cracked window to circulate the air. While the tablet control was on, it regularly went into sleep mode during cruising. Chiara used slopes to ease off the accelerator and didn't push it past the 50s. She even gingerly shifted her weight to give the car that little extra help. They still had a quarter tank, but the numbers were dropping faster than the percentage on Jess's old phone, even though it felt like they were doing practically nothing to drain the battery that fast.

They were past the point where they could just turn around and head back to the truck stop, where they knew there would be gas. But there had to be gas here. Drivers passed them from time to time. The signs were awash with towns that totally existed. Yet there was so much forest that never seemed to end. Surely even Ross wanted the little lumber company they passed a while ago to keep all this crazy nature in line.

At least it was still decently light out, though the fearsome fingers of dusk were starting to hint through the branches that grew thickly out of sight. The road ahead returned to a long and twisting silver string, with the same turns, slopes, and hills picking them up and dipping them down. All of it didn't feel like it was leading anywhere, but they had no choice but to continue ever onward. Neverwink... more like never get there.

In the back, she checked on Ross and thought for a second that he had transcended into his sparkly vampire phase, but it was just a slight gloss of sweat that the whistling of the balmy weather through the window crack refused to clear away. Layla's serious face set awkwardly on her features as she slowly rocked back and forth, like a metronome. Ah, yes, restroom. The vague, distantly pressing possibility of another potty trip lingered, but at the back of a long list of other worries and fears to filter through first.

Jake also seemed concerned about the state of their friends in the back. A shame that Layla didn't seem to have more control over her girl/boy transitions; then she could simplify at least half of her restroom needs, assuming it wasn't the pizza family deciding to take a vacation on the log flume. Roxy somehow held her giggles in.

Up front, it looked like Miranda might be fading, but Chiara was practically carved from painted marble with the sole purpose in her life to guide this godforsaken car as far as humanly possible with every iota of her strength. She wanted to reach out and touch her gently to let her know that everything was going to be fine.

Mercifully, over the next hill, the world decided to finally cut them a break, as the distant glittering of a new blue sign signaled that not only was there a fully featured rest stop half a mile away, but that half a mile beyond that had gas refueling along with a ranger station and a bunch of other stuff they couldn't care less about right now. Chiara almost started to cry as she breathed and flopped down in her chair like spaghetti returning from human form, but she didn't lose focus and held on to the wheel.

Despite the blessed beacon, a certain amount of anxiety remained until the road leading to the rest stop appeared. It soon widened into a large loop containing the typical state restroom buildings made of mottled tan brick with hat-like, jutting, dull orange roofs that looked like lost and faded versions of old Pizza Huts. So many tall trees flanked the forward-slanting empty parking spots. Flowers and fresh blossoms abounded throughout the swath that stretched with a slight hill in a glorious display of bright spring. Roxy knew it would be even better in the fall with the sharp explosion of shifting colors.

They pulled into a spot not too far from the central buildings with a long walkway and metal railings, with a brick fence separating a small area with plaques and the restrooms from the woods. The dark, broad trees seemed to be probing the air with their slim tendrils poking through the fresh leaves. Everyone took a moment to ooze their way out of the doors, except for Layla, who hustled ahead with urgent matters to attend to. Chiara quickly followed her precious snuggle shark to the ladies' room. Roxy was the last to head towards the buildings.

She turned to glance at the meager mound hill that rose on the other side of the lot. She squinted and thought she saw something shifting through the branches, but it could have been anything from a deer to a normal human wanderer. Nothing was clear. She turned away and walked forward with a long, careful yawn, carrying slivers of her carefree mood. Picnic tables and a few barbecue areas were set up along the long path and around the looming brick wall. The main section contained a plaque honoring the American Legion, with the facilities sponsored by a local charity.

Roxy entered the women's restroom building and didn't expect much. The entrance jogged around an area with a green door that looked like it had been here since the 1960s and had only been painted a handful of times since. The floor was the same resilient, hard tile that all of these places used, and the stalls were a glittering, warped metal, with most of the doors creaking with the fair breeze through the narrow, yellowing windows above. The doors, which wiggled and shifted, were all bent or badly creased, as if someone had tried to kick them to pieces with every ounce of strength they had.

This restroom seemed generally cleaner than the men's rooms at these stops, but stray, foul aromas wafted heavily along with dark and bloody masses she didn't want to look at packed into the oil drum trash cans. Graffiti, as always, was inescapable, disgustingly racist one-liners scrawled in jagged, black permanent marker.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Roxy didn't have to go urgently, but she also knew if she passed up this opportunity, her entire digestive system would start throwing the wildest parties as soon as the door shut. She gripped her enthusiasm and happiness tightly like a protective cloak as she waddled around and endeavored to shift her dress away from any potential contact with the minefield of stray damp patches on the tile. A little of her blood and a decent portion of her cheer drained away when she realized that the first toilet she selected had no paper. Fortunately, the second one had some massive rolls of less than tissue paper thickness and quality.

Regardless of the warmth and comfort of the outdoors, the restroom felt blisteringly cold, and the most frigid focal point was the seat she placed herself upon, even after making absolutely sure there was a cover for it. Her legs were not happy, her delicate parts were not happy, and she was not happy, even though her spirit desperately wanted to be. Fortunately, her stomach did its job, and the log flume was well attended. The now-buried fountain put on a brief display, and she was glad to creep out of there.

The faucet shot a superheated stream that wanted to strip the flesh from her fingers. She finessed her way out of being scalded numb. Layla soon popped out too, scampering like she was playing an especially acrobatic form of hopscotch to avoid the worst spots. Roxy wanted to say something, but she finished, breezed past like a fierce wind, and was out the door without speaking.

Roxy could understand; she didn't want to spend any more time in this space than she absolutely had to. But it was peculiar that Layla didn't speak to Chiara while she was finishing up. Perhaps she had and Roxy just didn't catch it, they texted, or Layla just had something urgent she needed to deal with back at the car. Still, peculiar.

She poked around at the other stalls and felt thoroughly disconcerted by the fact that they were all empty. She had been right behind Chiara. Miranda had to have been just behind her. They were walking together. Did the other girls accidentally go in the wrong one? If so, they should have realized it by now and made the correction. Something was off.

After checking the bathroom once more to make sure she hadn't just been dense and missed the obvious, she confirmed that she was absolutely alone in here. And wanted to get the hell out as soon as possible.

Striding through the door of the bathroom, she once again realized that there was no one around. No men, no women, no children, no pets, and no sense of any sounds nearby that would indicate where they might be hiding. She tapped into her spare supply of enthusiasm and happiness, but it was faint nourishment, like a rebreather on scuba gear that refused to position itself properly.

Rushing away from the buildings and back to the parking lot, with the railing still where it should be but everything else out of sorts, Roxy... Roxanne did her best to remind herself to be calm. The most rational explanation was that she'd nodded off in the middle of something, and the others had decided to leave her in the car to rest. And this was a dream. When did it happen? How much of her recent memory could she actually trust if this was an illusion?

Roxanne's legs were reverting to their previous jelly state, but not because of bliss.

She clutched the railing and shuffled slowly forward, trying to find her way back to the parking lot. She hoped and even prayed. Her heart raced with the image—the certainty in her soul that the car would be there and the others would be there too.

The doors would be open, some of them stretched out along the side or cozily positioned, enjoying the decent weather while looking forward to the gas station fill-up ahead and the clear, short span that would get them to that strangely named store and all the answers they could ask for.

The car wasn't there, her friends weren't there, and not a single vehicle was in the parking lot. It was impossible. It was soul-crushing. It made no goddamn sense. Not even the railing in the middle was enough to hold her up as she slumped to the lukewarm ground, her legs twitching and trembling uselessly beneath her. Tears didn't fall from her eyes, but not for lack of trying to push them through the bulkhead of happiness and hope that wanted to burn brightly inside her again.

The trees all around loomed and swayed, like their creeping touch would soon descend and envelop her in a thousand cruel hands. In the quiet that swarmed like a ringing tidal wave about to crush her and everything she knew, an artificial rumble sounded from somewhere far away. A machine, a vehicle, or perhaps a gardener using a leaf blower. But it was something—something to cling to and something to hope for in the midst of all that made no sense. She looked around, turned to check as far behind her as she could, and raised her head even though she couldn't lift herself off the ground.

The world looked so desolate, so quietly peaceful. A place after all the humans had left but her, maybe a place that had never known the touch of any person until she arrived. But maybe she wasn't alone.

Patiently waiting for the rumble to resolve, she soon discerned that it had to be an engine—a car for sure. No, something bigger and diesel-driven. Around the tree-shrouded start of the loop, she witnessed an eighteen-wheeler amble along the cement and come to a stop on an unmarked parking lot patch with all the little squeaks, shutters, hisses, and rumbles as the engine slowly settled down. She shed a few tears of gratitude, happy to at least see someone in this strange version of reality. A cab door opened, and feet met pavement as a figure made their way around the truck.

It was him. The trucker in blue with a dark cap and a broad beard. The pervert they fled from. He slowly doffed his cap to her and wore an insidious grin that traced through his facial hair. His eyes looked different, like glassy, polished stones, less a gray or a blue than a simple, sharp, reflective crystal set in his face.

"I made you an offer. I don't like it when someone refuses my offer, especially a little lady as scintillating and beautiful as you. Don't worry, even though we are alone now, I am the consummate gentleman and will treat you exactly as you should be treated… All night long."