I

He sat on the side of the road, on his old familiar bag he had found in a small illegal dump. This bag contained everything he needed to live. Socks, clothes and some money in the pocket of some worn jeans. This was everything he wanted to bring along from his current life. His life up until now was no longer relevant. He had washed his hands of it. He had had his revenge, blood for blood, and now there was nothing else left to do, just to sit here and wait for the end to come to him. Or that somebody on the road would take him and carry him closer to the end.

He looked at the white line passing the tips of his brown boots, stretching into eternity on both his left and right. An endless unbroken white line measuring kilometers, forests and fields, real at some places, imaginary at others.

He was trying to reach the imaginary or at the very least to South far away form here. To a village the name of which had sunken into the mists of history. A place which was more like an old wives’ tale than a real village marked on a map. After which there was nothing else. Only a road to turn around and leave.

He had made the decision to go. To pack his seven by seven items and go sit on the side of the road, to wait and hope for anybody to take him with them. He was willing to ride with anybody, be it a horse-drawn carriage with a tank of human feces, some millionaire or the devil himself. Or some officials in blue uniforms, taking him back to Big Town, to do whatever honorable judge in the North thought prudent to do. Not even trying to understand his actions, that his motivation and action had also been right and just.

The young man with a black knit cap gave a heavy sigh and found the wallet from the pockets of the jeans in his bag. He looked over the bills. Each one had a face on it, each of them was a person who had done something significant for the science, politics or culture of this small Northern nation. Themselves of course never living long enough to learn of their immortality.

There was another face. An old photo in weathered pink shades of a smiling woman with long dark blonde hair. Taken when the sky was red, and the letters CCCP had a meaning. It was visible even on that old photo, red flags flying in a summery weather. At a corner of the image there was an off-white arc, raising like a backbone of some unknown dead monster. He turned the photo around. There were some brown stains on the back, looking like some paint had smeared and dried a long time ago. But this had never been paint, this had been alive.

With a muted clap of the material, he closed the wallet and put it back in his pocket. He then raised his face towards the sky. The dark gray clouds and the rooks flying along the road were almost trying to tell him to expect rain, and to him, this would have been the perfect weather to wait for a black carriage to take him. Only darkness would have been more perfect, something to help him to get sooner on his way. To let the black carriage with ominous red lights pass right through him, leaving behind only a smell of sulfur.

At one point he noticed a bright glare in the distance. As it got closer, it grew so bright that he felt like dozens of spotlights had been focused on him. The light drowned out the whole world from his vision, caused him to loose all sense of time and space, as well as all his fear of leaving this world behind. He continued to sit, frozen by the white light, wishing it to burn away his sight and then his consciousness. So that even for a brief moment, before his mind left the dying body, he could escape to the world depicted on that photo between his wallet. He wished for the light to be the black carriage he had wished for. To hear the hooves of the black blind horses pulling it. He wished for them to run him over and trample him so that the carriage could bring him along.

A deafening noise, a loud screeching and then darkness. Pitch-black darkness, almost like the one he had desired. But just moments later, his eyes started to discern the world once again. He listened to low rumble of an engine not far from him. He slipped off his bag and then pulled his knees under his chin, laying on the side of the road, cursing his fate that had taken away yet another chance to escape this place. Almost as if telling him to do it properly, as chance had much better things to do than bother itself with killing him.

Only now did he notice how dark it was outside. He heard as the low rumbling got closer, as the car reversed. Then the rumble stopped and its doors opened. He sat up once more and then noticed a black square body Volga parked on the side of the road not 30 feet from him. It looked brand new. Better than new, actually. Spotless chrome decorations, paint as perfect as volcanic glass. The plastic lenses of the tail lights perfectly unfaded, giving off blood red incandescent glow, same with the opera light on the rearmost pillar. A perfect modern embodiment of a black carriage. He watched as people climbed out of it, one of them opened the trunk to get some luggage.

With a tinge of repulsion he looked on as the girl driving the car hugged the other passengers. She then waved at the young man. The young man sitting by the side of the road looked around, as if wishing there to be somebody else she was trying to get the attention of. He also knew that there could not really be anybody else to answer that beckoning, and he himself had given a promise to go with anybody who stopped, even the devil himself. He got up, still regretting his decision, also getting mad at himself that his wishes and desires were so divergent from one another. He stretched his legs, still numb from the cold and the rain, and then walked towards the car.

The passengers were still busy getting their luggage from the trunk, as well as cleaning the interior from anything the had dropped in there. Several big plastic bags, from the faint noises their contents seemed to be empty glass bottles, were thrown over the railing on the side of the road. The people talked among themselves in quiet voices. He did not even attempt to pay attention to their discussion, even though the language was familiar. The young woman who had waved at him was now approaching him. She was of slim build, taller than average, maybe even 6 feet tall, with long loose dark brown hair reaching her mid-back. Black jeans, black tee.

She kept looking at him. He kept looking at her, all the while wishing to turn away from the irradiating glare in her eyes. To escape from her, even into the woods if necessary, if necessary to even give up any chances of reaching the South.

"Are you Marco?" She finally asked, flipping open a small wallet.

"Yes, I am," the young man replied with a faint voice.

"You know how to drive?" there was a note of shortness in her voice.

"Yes, I do." he replied, deciding to speak as little as possible.

She then stretched a folded piece of green paper towards him.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Title for the car. Are you going to take it or not?"

Still hesitating, he took the piece of paper, paying attention to not touch her fingers. He unfolded it and then stared at the document dumbfounded.

"It has my name in it."

"Yes, it does." She replied. "Keys are in the ignition, don't let it wait for you."

After those final words, the young woman turned around and caught up with the people who had been traveling with her.

The young man was left alone at the side of the road, a ruck sack in one hand, a green piece of paper in the other, and in front of him stood a black Volga in impeccable condition. This was not a scenario he could have foreseen. He had not expected this to happen when leaving home, neither could he figure out what to do with the vehicle which now, seemingly by a strange mix-up, had ended up in his possession.

He looked about him, just to make sure, that there was nobody around to later blame him for stealing the car. Also, the people who had came here with the car were now gone, either they had disappeared into the darkness or the forest beside the road. He started walking towards the old four door vehicle.

In and of itself, this car was nothing special to him. Other than its excellent condition, it seemed to be a regular GAZ-24 from the mid-seventies. His uncle had once had a similar one, and at one time these were used as taxis, giving even a common man a chance to ride around in one.

He walked around the car and opened the trunk. This was also the end of the excellent condition. The inside of the trunk looked very much like a car several decades old. The bottom of the shallow trunk was also covered with a dark red blanket. He threw his backpack onto the blanket and was just about to close the trunk when he noticed something weird. The red blanket was covering something. Cool stone surface under his fingers. Bricks. Indeed, the whole trunk of the car was lined with red bricks packed neatly beside one another and in two layers. Too tired to offer any explanation why one would make a slow car even slower, he pulled the blanket back onto the bricks and shut the trunk lid.

He then got behind the wheel and grabbed the keys still in the steering column. However he then noticed a large note taped to the steering wheel. It said 'automatic transmission.' Black letters drawn on a yellowing sheet of paper. He then glanced into the foot well. There were three pedals. He looked at the gear stick. Also looked like a regular gear stick extending from the floor. There was even a glass knob with a small scorpion poured into the glass. He took the note and pushed it under the wind screen.

Still feeling suspicious, he pushed down the clutch pedal, it offered little to no resistance. He then tried to move the transmission lever, but it only seemed to move forwards and back, no side to side movement whatsoever, even when he applied some force. He then moved the gear stick back into the forwardmost position and turned the key.

He immediately noticed that the was something wrong. There was something different. The sound, the vibration violently shaking every piece of interior trim the vehicle had. This was nothing like a regular Volga. He released the parking brake, pulled the gear stick three steps towards himself and then released the brake pedal. The car started to move under idle engine power and pick up speed. He then noticed a small compass standing on top of the dashboard. The needle was pointing towards South.

II

A girl in blue jeans was walking on the side of the road. Back and forth, over and over again. The center for her rounds was her bag, from which she never strayed further than 30 meters away. As if she was wary of somebody with an unhealthy interest in her luggage suddenly appearing from the forest here or the field on the other side of the road. For a moment, she raised her face towards the sky, to sense how everything around her gradually got darker, as the sky was growing blacker and the crows on the foreground became harder and harder to notice.

Could anybody even tell what they were doing here? They certainly weren’t here to wait until she kicked the bucket. Things did not work like that in this kind of desert. A desert without sand, a human desert. She lowered her gaze and setting one foot in front of the other walked the side marker back to her things. She then noticed beams of light behind the turn ahead. They were coming closer, becoming brighter and instead of keeping to the road shoulder, she kept advancing towards the lights. There wasn’t even any reflectors on her clothing to help make her visible to the driver. At the last moment, she stepped half a meter to her side and let the vehicle disappear into gray darkness behind her.

She felt something wet fall on her head. She could not tell if this was something she did not expect or were the crows sufficiently startled by the noise of the car. She raised her face and a few more drops hit her, this time on her face. Yep, it was the thing she had not been expecting – rain. It also felt prudent somehow, as if there was a small rain cloud secretly following her everywhere just about to pour everything down her neck as soon as she dared to think of the person accompanying her on this trip, at least in her thoughts.

Within these few hours of standing on the side of the road, she had seen more vehicles pass her than during the whole preceding day. She gave a sorrowful smile and focused on a new pair of lights closing in. As they passed she could see the heavy drops fall on the pavement scattering after impact and creating a momentary layer of wet mist. If this continued then she was destined to spend this night under the thick cover of the fir canopy by the side of the road. Because who’d really want to stop their car in such a downpour and let a soaking wet person into their vehicle? Especially into one of these modern cars which had interiors intolerant of water or even moisture, materials and technology so frail and complicated.

With thoughts like this she again reached the apex on the other side of her baggage, towards any vehicles possibly moving towards her. Sitting down was the last thing to do, Then there was truly no dry place left, never mind the feeling of cold which would only intensify. She rose her eyes from the white line she could only barely see now. There was a sound she felt approaching, as if a car with no lights was coming towards her. At least her mind forced her to think so, according to what her ears heard.

But then the blinding light broke through and she had to over her eyes with her hands. Those damned people in their car! This damned light! The lights on the car had ignited so suddenly that she could see nothing, in addition to her eyes being in pain and full of tears. She listened to the car stop on the side of the road not too far from her. She opened her eyes and turned around, first seeing the bright devilishly red tail lights. She was pretty sure it was a Volga, but seriously modified, because she did not know any old Russian cars with such bright tail lights.

She rushed back to her things, wiped the small puddles off her waterproof bag and lifted it onto her back, wincing as the heavy rucksack pressed the cold wet clothes against her body. It felt something between disgusting and unpleasant. Her health was strong, and if would have been much worse if this rained gave her an inflammation of some part of her body.

Black and presentable old Russian passenger car with restrained chrome decorations. There were not many like it out there. So clean, with all the lights attached intact and burning with devilish brightness. Several more modern cars passed the stopped vehicle, but compared to the old Volga on the side of the road they were but specters in the night. She headed towards the vehicle, opened the rear side door and sat into a cozy twilight there. The only thing illuminating the blood red interior were small incandescent bulbs under clear plastic covers on pillars between the front and rear doors. The vibration inside the vehicle was of a slight surprise to her, but soon that faded from her focus like the ticking of a clock.

She sat the bag beside her and then took a look at the black cap and blue eyes in the rear view mirror.

“That was disturbingly bright.” She said.

“Marco.” The young man said.

“Maris.” The girl replied, the timber of her voice was surprisingly bright. “It was really shitty of you to switch to high beams so close to me.”

“I did nothing.” The young man in the drivers’ seat replied. “I’m certain I did not.”

His voice sounded weak, as if he was ill.

“In any case I did not expect it. Or maybe the engine is so loud that it can be heard far away.”

She fell silent, half expecting for the driver to ask how far she wanted to get. But the eyes in the rear view mirror indicated that this question would never come.

She directed her gaze out of the side window. It really had been the final moment to find herself a driver. That which she had experienced outside, if that was rain, then whatever was now raining on top of the car sounded more like small nails. Also the ceiling of the car had no liner, at least none acting as sound insulation. She looked behind her at the rear glass, to notice the big circles that the drops made as the hit the glass. She then moved to the other side of the rear eat and lifted the bag onto the seat.

She noticed needle pins on the rear pillar and used them to pin some photos onto the liner. She then pulled away from them. All photos were of the same person, made at different times, depicting different memories, some of which would probably have dulled without these photos and gone to where all memories eventually go. In the end she also unfolded a letter written on a yellowing sheet of paper. She sniffed it and pinned it under the photos, the lower half of the letter resting on red faux leather. She then rose her gaze, which them net the pair of eyes in the rear view mirror. The eyes in the mirror then turned away.

The young man driving the car put his hand in his pocket and revealed something. The girl on the rear seat was not too concerned with what it was, but from the sounds she could tell it was a wallet. She then saw as a hand rose to the rear view mirror and pushed a small pinkish photo into the frame of the mirror. The wallet was thrown onto the front passenger seat and the vibration in the vehicle rose for a moment before dying down once more. Again something the girl could not comprehend as correct or even possible, a Russian car making noises as if it had an automatic transmission.

Only silence, road noise and the low rumble of the car engine accompanied their drive. The engine sound was yet another weird thing in the whole matter.

Curious eyes reappeared into the rear view mirror with ever increasing frequency, looking like they wanted to ask something, to learn something. And at this moment the girl wished him to ask, only for her to tell him that it was none of his business. But there was no such luck, at least not now.

This kind of forced silence lasted for some time, until finally the girl, Maris, asked a question which had been on her mind for quite some time, even before she had sat into the car.

“Don’t you have any music?”

“There is a bunch of wires, but no radio.”

“Too bad. If we had a radio then even if it wasn’t connected, I could do something about it. If have disconnected plenty of head units from cars in the past.”

Right away she started to regret that she had said anything at all. Something felt inappropriate. Clearly the other person wanted to stay silent and she should have considered that. In her mind she cursed her own stupidity.

“You could have thrown your bag in the back.”

“I could have.” The girl replied, looking at the rear view mirror. The young man focused on the road once more.

She opened up her bag and revealed a tied up stack of letters. Without envelopes to make the stack thinner. Slowly and still hesitating whether to do it at all, she untied the stack and set it on the seat next to herself. She picked the first letter on the stack and switched on the interior light just above her on the headliner. Again finding herself thinking that this was yet another thing that an original Volga would not have at that place. The letter had been written onto a thin piece of paper using a pen. Even before unfolding, she could see the pattern of the handwriting on the other side of the sheet.

“We’re gonna have to make a stop.” The girl rose her eyes from the letter ash she head those words. “There’s an illegal landfill not far from here.”

“What are you expecting to find there?”

“A radio.”

“Okay.”

Both of the voices were barely above a whisper.

She lowered her gaze back onto the letter in her hands. Her eyes moved across the lines of text. She had read the letter dozens of times already, but still went over it again and again. To again recall his touch on her skin, his love, that unfathomable connection they had had and neither of them could offer any explanation.

She set the letter aside and took the next one into her hands. She felt the car slow down and turn somewhere. There was also something news that reached her senses: the rain was nowhere near as intense as it had been before. There was none of that sound of dried peas or steel nuts hitting the metal, only quiet impacts of lone drops now rolling down the glass. Also, the noise emanating from under the wheels clearly indicated that the car was riding on something else than smooth pavement.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“How did you even know of the illegal landfill here?” Maris asked.

“I just did.” Marco said. “There were certain signs.”

They reached further down the dirt road, which finally turned into an overgrown forest road with tall grass between the wheel tracks. On the side of the road, they could soon see white home appliances and water heaters partially obscured by tall grass, of course there were probably piles and piles of garbage still hidden in the dark.

Maris looked out the window and understood that the refuse here was indeed really varied and from how everything was scattered, it would seem that most of the garbage was brought here not by civilians with their small trailers but instead big dump trucks.

The Volga was stopped on the road, but the engine was left running and the lights still on. Marco opened the door and stepped out, shutting the door with such force that the car shook a little. Maris waited for a little and then also got out, deciding not to be to far behind the young man. She was also really familiar with dumps like these. Together with her lover she had combed through many such locations looking for parts for customizing his bike.

“Tom was familiar with garbage dumps.” She said quietly. “I could often find him from such a place, looking either spare parts or decorations for his rat rod.”

“Rat rod?” Marcos voice replied from the distance. Then something heavy tumbled over.

“Yes, a rat rod.” Maris said. “a motorcycle partially repaired and modified with stuff other people have thrown away.”

“Have you seen anything looking like a car radio?” Marco asked. “or anything else useful?”

“A mattress and waterlogged pillows perhaps?” the girl asked.

“No.”

Still bathing in the powerful headlights of the vehicle, they kept walking around between small piles of garbage. Their shadows were pitch black, the darkness obscured anything within the umbra. The shadows moving around also created a feeling that there were many more people silently moving around in the light. As if this powerful light was also shining through the fabric of this world onto fabrics of other worlds beside it.

Maris sighed, as she finished contemplating and imagining this. There were too many nights she had spent with Tom, watching science-fiction and mystery programming as well as documentaries about unexplainable phenomena. She walked towards the next heap of garbage with an intent to take a look into the shadow side of it. Despite the dark night and the powerful headlights of the car, the garbage dump was not like lunar terrain with perfect illumination and areas with perfectly black shadows. The shadow side of the heap was also easily visible.

Another step forward and suddenly dozens of pairs of wings started flapping and rose from the indiscernible shadows in the ground, into similarly indiscernible darkness in the air. From the noises, these seemed to be rooks or crows, who had made this their place of congregation. Souls of dead people whom she had now driven away.

“Is this your rig?” An unfamiliar male voice asked.

Maris turned around, looking at a man-shaped dark figure standing right before the lights of the vehicle.

“Yes, it’s ours.” She replied, noticing how Marco appeared from between the heaps not far.

He too was now heading back towards the car.

“You should not leave such a valuable vehicle standing unlocked and running. Somebody might take it and park it in a tree or something.”

“Valuable how?” Marco asked. “It’s just a Volga.”

“Did you take a look at the title? This is a special model for the KGB. Also these dual HID headlamps are most definitely not a factory equipment. Where’re you headed anyway?”

“To the South.” Marco said. “I am heading to South, I don’t know about her.”

Maris now felt the burning gazes of two people on her.

“Suits me.” The unknown young man said. “South is a good place to go to. If I am think about the same place I think you’re thinking about. I’m Carl.”

“Marco.”

“I’m Maris.” The girl said, stepping closer. “Do you not perhaps have a car radio on you?”

“As a matter of fact...”

Carl turned, now facing the headlights and dropped his rucksack. He opened the zippers on it and produced an unopened package.

“Would this fit?”

“Don’t know yet.” She said. “in the car.”

The three of them walked around the car. Marco was left at the front door while the young man with several days worth of beard, who had introduced himself as Carl continued and then opened the trunk, throwing his olive drab backpack into it. He then produced the packaged car radio and seeing that the girl was about to move her bag as well, left it open.

“This is brand new.” Maris said. “Where did you get it?”

She was leaning on the rear quarter panel of the car, looking at Carl in action. The water still on the metal did not bother her the least.

“A long story.” Carl said as he smiled.

He looked at the girl tearing the package open and then got into the rear seat of the car. Soon, Maris got onto the front seat with the radio unit.

“Who’s that?” Carl asked, noticing the letters and the photos pinned on the rear pillar.

“That’s Tom.” Maris said, as she tried to find a place for the radio.

Saying his named out loud made her memories flood in once again. All those moments together, moments apart, all these painful yet happy events. Life was strange. Love was even stranger. And yet it the same time it was not too strange for somebody to turn it into yet another YA novel or TV series.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of rain once again playing on the roof of the car. Through the open door behind her she now heard it from everywhere else as well, and some of it fell onto her jeans which had barely managed to stop dripping. The thought “fuck” floated atop all other considerations.

“What is a KGB Volga?” Marco asked.

“You don’t know?” The newcomer asked and grinned.

Marco shook his head. He removed his cap and revealed an extremely short buzzcut.

“KGB Volgas were hand-built. Of this body style they made about 600 units. These were equipped with the three-speed automatic and the five and a half liter 200 horsepower V8 from the Chaika limousine. Externally it was made indistinguishable from the standard model. By the way, did you find a lead or concrete slab in the trunk?”

“A bunch of bricks.”

“Well, you see then, throw those out and this car will easily go beyond 200kph. Since I am pretty sure this has been modified even beyond the KGB specs, it should go far beyond 200 and quickly.”

“What do you mean?” Maris asked.

“Did you see the two chrome-tipped exhaust pipes at the rear? The KGB model had one thin pipe to look like a standard model with the 2.4. I would bet this one has been straight-piped, and the factory carbs have also been replaced with a modern four-barrel. Never mind the bi-xenon headlights.”

“Turn it back on, I’m about to start with the wiring.” Maris said.

Marco had turned off the lights and the engine, as they sat in the car and talked.

“Wouldn’t you rather do it with the power off?” Carl asked.

“Nope. I don’t know gazelles that well. This is going to be a trial and error installation. I also need the light.”

The Volga started to rumble and vibrate once more. The girl turned herself on her back and started disconnecting the wires behind the transmission lever. A place for a modern DIN radio was already dug out into the dash board by some previous owner.

“And she?” Carl asked, noticing the rear view mirror. “Is she also yours, Maris?”

“Mine are all in the back.” She replied.

She had no intention to twist herself out if where she was until she had managed to connect the radio or give herself a shock.

“That’s my mom.” Marco said quietly. “She’s dead.” This was the only relevant information he could give about her.

“Too bad.” Carl said. “And why are you here?”

Marco stayed silent and looked out of the window. He looked at the rain which had restarted.

“Why is he here?” Carl asked Maris.

“How would I know? Only when you appeared did I learn he was heading towards the South. Don’t ask me stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Carl said.

Suddenly a small beep and a tri-tone rang out. Basic and electronic.

“What the hell is that?” Carl asked, annoyed.

“My cell phone.” Marco said.

“Give it. Who is it anyway?”

“I don’t know. The police probably.”

“Give it to me, now!” Carl shouted.

Without knowing even why, he handed his ringing cell phone to Carl who stepped out into the rain. A few moments later he got back into the car.

“Your problems are solved.” He said.

“What did you do?” Marco asked, his voice was stable and full of disinterest.

Maris climbed out from under the dashboard. She was not yet finished but she wanted to focus on the discussion, as it seemed important, or at the very least entertaining.

“I threw your phone away.” Carl said without a hint of guilt.

“Why?”

“Did you want to speak to them?” Maris asked.

“Maris.” Marco said.

She turned towards the young man on the driver’s seat and from his gaze she understood that she may have gone too far.

“Fine.” She mouthed.

“Exactly right, my dear.”

Maris gave an involuntary smile, as she heard Carl continue.

“Did you want to talk to them?”

“No.”

“Exactly.” Carl pointed at Marco. “Also, did you know that one can triangulate your position using the signal your cell phone emits? It is much better for all of us that it lies on the forest floor in several pieces.”

“It is not about that.” Marco said.

“No, it is exactly about that.” Carl continued. “I think you haven’t fully realized why you’re here. Why we’re here. I don’t know why fate picked you, and frankly I also don’t care. But you are one of us. Like all of us, you too sat on the side of the road and waited for somebody to come and take you away. To a world better and more secure. In a sense, somebody did come. But what you were not expecting was that you yourself would have to be the one to decide where to.”

“I already decided, I’m going to South.”

Carl smiled.

“You think, that you are going to South. You can’t believe anything you see in this car. Maybe you haven’t realized this, but this is not an ordinary car and not an ordinary trip. You have some obligation before those you collect onto your car.”

“And if I do not want these obligations? If I pass the car to you?”

“I cannot, even if I wanted to.” Carl said. “Th title still has your name on it, does it not? Which means this is your car, at least for now.”

“Done!” Maris said in a loud voice.

She fiddled with the knobs and first found some white noise and then some terrible pop music started emanating from the speakers all around the car.

“Somebody has touched this car before.” She said. “All the audio has been redone. It only needed a head unit to be wired in.”

“What’s next?” Marco asked.

“You’re the driver, you have the car, you decide. In the end, you can only go where the road takes you and nowhere else.”

“You’re pretty smart for a thief.” Maris said as she made it back to the rear seat.

“For a thief?”

“This was a brand new radio with all the security tags intact, I’m not stupid.”

“Then we’re going to South. Does either of you have a watch?”

“I do. It is in my bag.” Maris said.

“Very good. Take it out and throw it away.” Marco said.

“Why the hell for?”

“Because where we’re going, the correct time is no longer relevant.”

“You’re learning fast.” Carl said. “Okay, we’ll go where you think the South is. But be advised that in reality you might never get there. Not with this car.”

“What are you saying?” Maris asked.

“The black coach runs it’s own path, we are merely passengers on it. The black coach will not go where the coachman wants, instead, it goes where it wants to go.”

III

The black Volga sped towards the morning Sun slowly rising above the horizon. Shaking with the vibrations of the drivetrain. The black body shining without a single water spot or speck of dust. It reflected the morning light towards the trees on the sides of the road and all the creatures that moved around in the cover of darkness who could now use a rare chance to glimpse the beginning of the world they could never be a part of.

Carl sat on the front passenger seat and with a strange smile observed the car eating up the kilometers and the road markings. He had been correct and that was enough. What he had spoken of was also enough for the other two. People really did believe everything, one only had to present it convincingly enough. For some reason it was also more pleasant to sit shotgun in a speeding car, especially if one wanted to keep a low profile. And there was nothing better than retelling an obscure urban legend and see how believing it affect them.

He glanced at the young man beside him who seemed to avoid making any conversation. Very suspicious. Before the driver reciprocated his glance, Carl turned his gaze towards the girl sitting behind the driver, observing how she was trying to pin the photos back onto the pillar next to the seat, but the vibration kept shaking them loose.

Carl turned back and then while rubbing his face, decided to put on his seatbelt.

“Five and a half liters,” he said, in thought, “make a Russian car move obscenely fast.”

“Yes, too fast.” Maris said. “The photos are detaching. Slow down please.”

“You better worry about yourself, rather than your photos.” Carl said, turning again towards the girl in the back. “Otherwise at first push of the brake pedal, you’re gonna fly out through the windscreen.”

“If you think so.”

Carl turned back, still looking at the sun rising up from behind the end of the road on the horizon. This decreased visibility quite a bit. However the compass on the dashboard was still pointing towards the South. This made him smile, a non-functioning compass was yet another thing reinforcing the urban legend he had retold.

Suddenly he noticed something that obscured the sun and thus increased visibility down the road. There was a dark figure on the side of the road, only visible because it covered the very center of the rising sun, while seemingly there was a halo around it.

The car started to slow down.

“You’re gonna pick up another one?” Carl asked.

“Yep, she is the right one.”

The car got closer to the figure and the featureless black shape turned into a young woman of average height in black. She walked slowly towards the sunrise, often pushing her long loose hair away from her face and over her shoulders.

“A satanic? Are you sure?” Carl asked. “She might sacrifice you to the devil, you know.” He gave a smile.

Volga slowed down even further and finally rolled forwards at walking speed purely on idle power, right beside the girl in black. She did not react. Did not even turn her head to see who was following her. As if she knew without looking.

Carl rolled down the front window and put his head outside. Marco touched the accelerator petal with his toe and the vehicle started to move a bit faster.

“Where’re you going?” Carl asked.

“Somewhere.” The girl in black replied in a dull voice. She still did not look at the people, only pushed her messy hair away from her face.

“You seem familiar. At least from afar. Have we met before?”

“Not in this life.” The girl replied Carl.

“We have the same direction.”

“It would seem so.”

“Wanna get a ride?”

“I could.”

“We only have three rules.”

“What kind?” the girl stopped and the car also jolted to a stop, perhaps too suddenly for Carl.

“First, the driver makes the rules. Secondly, watches and thirdly the phones should be left behind.”

The girl in black said nothing. However she took the watch off her wrist and dropped it in the ditch by side of the road. She then pulled her back pack to her side, produced a cellphone and dropped that too.

“Very good.” Carl said. “Throw your backpack into the trunk, Volga’s a small car as it is.”

The girl in black still said nothing. She walked to the rear of the car, popped the trunk and dropped her rucksack into the trunk, then slamming it shut. She got into the back of the car and soon Carl could hear a snap of the lap belt.

“Good idea.” He said. “With a bomb like this, you can never know what could happen. By any chance do you have a name?”

“Mariann.” The girl said a voice full of apathy, as if her desire to converse with people was even lower than the person driving the car.

“I’m Carl, by your side is Maris and the guy keeping the car on the road is Marco.”

The girl said nothing.

“You’re not much of a talker now’re you?” Carl asked.

“Not much.” The girl in black replied, observing the marker lines painted on the road run past, as the car moved.

“We’re out of fuel.” A quiet voice emanated from the driver’s seat, barely reaching above the engine noise.

“Yeah, a hundred liters drain really fast if you run the engine at full tilt. How out are we?”

“A millimeter from the lower mark.”

“That’s about twenty kilometers.” Carl said without a slightest worry. “The V8 on Chaika eats gas but not that much.”

“Yes.” The quiet voice replied.

To Carl this voice sounded more and more annoying with each exchange they had. This meant he had to get his thoughts off it.

“Hey Maris, what’s the deal with this Tom? Why stick photos of him everywhere?”

“Tom was my lover.” Maris said after sighing. “He died.”

“When?” Carl asked.

“Not long ago, maybe a few months. Terminal cancer at 22. And that asshole refused to tell me about it! His parents knew, his friends knew, the local mailman knew! But not me!” Tears started running down her face. “Any other questions?!”

“No. I didn’t know, you see.” Carl said.

“Yes, you did not know. I am pinning photos and letters here, you could have assumed!”

“I could have.” Carl agreed and turned back to look out the side window to see the road markings run past them.”

“There’s a gas station nearby here.” Mariann said.

“A chain store or a pump attached to a tank next to a shop in a TEU?” Carl asked.

“A chain.” Marco said. “I don’t have enough for a full tank, I only have three hundred.”

“I guess collection then.” Carl said, as he looked around in the car. “start airing our your wallets, girls. Fuel is expensive and we need like fifteen hundred for a full tank. This means about 370 per snout. Maybe slightly less as the tank is not completely dry and this can also run the cheap stuff.”

He produced a wallet and from there 4 bills, each had an image of a famous poetess who died in 1886

“Here’s my 370.” Carl said.

A pale hand with black fingernails in a long loose sleeve crawled over the seat, holding a purple bill with the image of another cultural icon who died in 1882.

“I only have 350.” Maris said, handing her bills to to Carl as well. “Also, I hope to get to eat something for this as well.”

“We’ll see.” Carl muttered.

Slowly, the car turned into the gas station which had no other customers in this early morning hour. The black Volga crawled slowly across the stone pavement and stopped bu the first pump. This forced a rook who had been sitting on the pump into air, who moved to the roof edge of the gas station store. If there had not been an illuminated ‘24h’ sign above the door, then it would have been pretty hard to tell that the place was open. The interior of the store visible through the window made it look as if it had been closed a long time ago.

Carl got out of the car, walked around it with long steps and stopped to observe Marco who started putting fuel into it. He took the money and set it under the windshield wiper of the Volga. She then took a last look at the girl in black who was now was absentmindedly staring at a large warehouse with gray steel walls, while she produced and lit a cigarette. He then headed towards the store.

He was not alone though. Maris followed him.

“Did you want anything?” Carl asked.

“Cover for my money and your promise. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning.”

“Did you spend the whole day walking on the side of the empty highway?” The young man asked. “I saw you before.”

“When?”

“Driving by. There was a large truck. The driver dropped me off before the garbage dump.”

“How can I help you?” the salesboy at the gas station asked.

He was a young man, with short blonde hair, slightly taller than Carl.

“What do you have for food anyway?” Maris asked, looking around.

“Well, it’s like this.” The young man in a dark blue apron and baseball cap started. “The truck that was supposed to bring the goods to the store has not been yet. The police have set a road block on the highway. They say they’re looking for some violent axe murderer.”

“So what do you have for food anyway?” Carl repeated the question.

“Well, we have pies and hot dogs and non-alcoholic stuff. Alcohol is all gone, A group of friends came in the night and bought up everything. Even paid in cash. They drove some black suped up Volga.”

“Well, let’s have something then,” Carl said, trying to swallow a strange feeling he had.

Soon, they exited the gas station convenience store. The young man a little ahead, with a can of energy drink. The girl behind him, eating her first hot dog, with the other one in her other hand. Carl looked behind him and gave a small smile, such a small girl yet such a big appetite. He quickened his pace, seeing Marco and that girl in black leaning against the other side of the car, each on either side of the fuel nozzle pumping fuel into the car.

He watched Mariann put a cigarette on her lips and ignite it without much hesitation.

“Mariann, or whoever you were.” Carl said. “could you remove your cigarette from this cloud of gasoline vapors and put it out? You believing that after we die we get reborn with help from the Dark Lord does not mean that we believe it too, or for it to be true.”

“A lit cigarette does not produce enough temperature to ignite gasoline or the vapors. It’s been proven before.” He voice was monotonous and without any emotion to be discerned.

“How can you be so sure?” Maris asked from a distance.

“Because we are still alive.”

She put the cigarette back in her mouth and knelt down, getting really close to the gas nozzle of the pump. She then took a deep and strong drag and blew it out through her nose.

“See? Nothing. But should I produce a lighter...”

She revealed a black plastic butane lighter.

“Then Maris should stand even further away to feel safe in any way.”

While she said that, there was something on her face that could have been mistaken for a smile, but it was more likely a content grin.

To everybody’s surprise, even Mariann’s, the fuel nozzle clicked, breaking the tense silence. Marco, who had been counting money several times over, took the fuel nozzle and put it back on the pump. He then headed towards the store to pay.

Mariann got up, screwed the fuel cap back on and closed the fuel door. She then raised her eyes towards the clouds slowly moving across the morning sky. Carl leaned against the car right next to her. But his eyes were not transfixed on the sky but instead on the knee length skirt of the girl next to him. Instead of belt, it had a thick steel chain keeping it on her hips. She also had laced up knee-high leather combat boots. Seemingly she was not disturbed by the least by his gaze.

His attentions was then grabbed by Marco, who had been stopped by a girl in a long dark skirt which reach the ground. She also had a black velvet blouse with long sleeves. For a few minutes he observed them talking, although he could not hear their conversation. But their silent coachman was obviously not as silent as he made out to look. Both of them started walking towards the car.

“It seems we have yet another passenger for our car.” Maris said.

“It would seem.” The young man next to Mariann said.

“She’s coming with.” Marco said, before getting back into the driver’s seat.

“Who is she anyway?” Maris asked.

“Aliis.” The new girl said.

She stopped next to Maris, giving Carl the opportunity to see that the two girls were not that different in height. Of course the girl in black on his side towered over both of them. He watched Mariann open the front door, which meant that he had to get in the back with the new girl and Maris.

“I want the center!” He said quickly.

“That’s fine. I’m not moving my pictures.” Maris replied.

The new girl with short red hair said nothing. She also waited until everybody else was in and then finally sat in the rear next to Carl, as he observed her. Soon he was sitting between two short girls. Of course that suit him just fine. Somebody had put three lap belts on the rear of the Volga, however no headrests.

Marco sat in the driver’s seat and then his gaze fell on the girl in black sitting next to him. She had turned the sun visor down and had tacked a photo of a smiling little girl onto it. Seeing Marco’s eyes, she threw the end of the cigarette out of the window.

Marco started the engine, and soon after Carl could enjoy the sound of the large V8 while being pushed back into the rear seat of the Volga.