X
A young man was sitting by the fire. Not alone any more, although for the last few hours he had been. Alone, in the dark of night, sitting by the fire, observing the evening becoming night yet again. How a short break in the rain was too much for the world and water started falling again, most definitely accompanied by strong wings howling outside. Rubbing against the sharp edges of the old bomb shelter. Some of it was stopped by the black Volga, now parked perpendicular to the door, covering the doorway. The other side of the car was probably wet by now. But the wind no longer got in, and if it did, then at least it no longer reached them.
Looking at the other people sitting by the fire, he still had to smile. He remembered the words the Satanic or somebody else had said, that this shelter was like a cave, allowing the fire to warm them better all the while protecting them from the cold, the wind and the rain. In the same way caves had their forebearers.
Carl’s train of thought was stopped by Mariann.
“This is a nice fire. It is good to see you found some decent fuel.”
“I did not have to spend much time looking. It was right here in the corner, buried under the bricks, three or four loads of fir and pine mixed up.” He replied, gazing at the circle of white brick he had built to make the fire pit.
“There was.” Mariann said quietly.
Suddenly the girl sitting left of Carl flinched at those words. The one named Aliis.
“What is is with you?” Carl asked in a low voice, hoping for the others not to hear him.
“Aliis is remembering what she saw.” Marian said again, surprising Carl. “Want to talk about it?”
The girl next to Carl shook her head.
“What went on in there anyway? What were you doing down there for five hours?” he asked.
“We were meeting with the demons of our past.” Mariann said. “That’s the simplest way to put it. We met with the part of our past which in our ideas, in the ideas of each of us took place wrong. It took place in a way we were not expecting to see it. We saw it happening again so we could at least for us to put everything in it’s right place, to fix it. You, Carl, did not come down there, you did not have a chance for it.”
“Was the thing that happened down there, real?” Aliis asked, this earned her the burning gaze of the young man next to her.
“As real as you believe it to be. Was it more real than what happened in your memories?”
“I don’t know, what happened down there and my memories are fusing together into one.”
“That’s good. That’s how it’s supposed to be. The Lake usually has such an effect on human consciousness.”
“The Lake?” Marco asked. “Those were tunnels, weren’t they?”
“Maybe they were for you.” Mariann said. “If it is not a secret, what did you see?”
“My mother.” Marco said. “My dad and stepdad. The fight between mother and stepdad. Because of me, because of what either of them thought to be right for me. And then dad coming and solving the problem, axe-… I mean driving the stepdad from home. And me finally saying goodbye to both of them before leaving home.”
“Very interesting.” Mariann said, trying to force down her smile. “Very interesting indeed.”
“What did you see?” Aliis asked.
“Me?” Mariann asked. “I saw a past mistake of mine from somebody else’s point of view. From the perspective of that one person I wished to warn. And I realized that everything I had known back then was purely by chance. And me acting differently would not have changed the final outcome. And yet I managed to fix a mistake I made after my first mistake of not understanding, of not trying to understand. Back when I was younger and a lot less experienced.”
“I saw Tom.” Maris said. “Down there. I walked in that cavernous hall and there he was standing. Leaning against a pillar, chewing on a toothpick and ringing the short chains on his wrists.”
“I imagine you had a pleasant conversation.” Mariann said.
“We did. I think I’m still feeling that he’s here. He apologized for leaving. And I learned that I was right in some regard. And he had been right too. He was trying to spare me and there was really no reason to spare me. Not with regards to that, not at that time. But he could not trust me. And honestly, I would not have trusted myself as well.”
She gave a small smile and then laid down the dirty blanked that had been in the trunk of the car.
“Are you aware that us being here might not be by chance?” Mariann suddenly asked, breaking the joyful silence Carl had barely started to appreciate.
“You already explained that.” Carl said in a tired voice. “The car picks out people, drives them and brings them here.”
“No, that is a completely separate thing.” Mariann said. “You also explained that.” She then grinned. “And also you did not. Right now it is only on a level of a theory but I think that theory has a significant amount of truth to it. We have all once met each other before this. With me and Carl is was a little more noticeable but meetings with the others have always existed in our minds as half-dreamt memories or familiar feelings. Or fallen into forgetfulness from where it will likely never rise again. You have all met each other before. Was in the kindergarten, daycare, at school or somewhere else, whether by chance or by design. And I have met all of you. You may not have known it, I may not have known it. But the car did.”
“That’s bullshit.” Carl said. “That the same kind of theory pulled from out of thin air that the Southern Forests are the UFO capital of our republic. You and Marco already talked about it, that if enough people keep talking about something then they will believe anything, continue to talk about it, somebody adds something and thus urban legends are born.”
“But urban legends always have some truth to them, do they not?” Mariann asked. “No matter how small it is, there is always a basis. Some idea, that generated another idea from which a modern folk tale could arise. However this is not our current topic. We’re not talking about urban legends in general but of the legend we are currently in. Of this car standing right here behind us, which in it’s design is already so mysterious that should we try to penetrate that mystery we would only find lots of questions and even more mystery. It is a mystery that requires no explanation, people have long since ensured that it never would, long since the car became what it currently is.”
“That’s still bullshit. This car has been modified a lot, true. But that’s all. There are no other secrets, it is all just tricks and imagination.”
“Maybe.” To the chagrin of Carl it seemed she again had lots to say. “You can believe it if it makes you feel better. It certainly would not make me feel better. I cannot see the world in such a simple way. For me there are always hidden designs and systems. Everything that the people are not consciously aware of or cannot notice with their senses or their mind. Or which they don’t want to notice. Everything can be sensed, if one would only make an attempt, even indirectly. I’m of a solid belief that we have met before, whether you also believe it is up to you.”
“There is one other urban legend related to the black car.” Maris suddenly said. “Tom once told me. And he reminded he with this visit. He said that every time the car arrives, there is an attendant accompanying the car. Somebody who knows more than the others. Who knows how the car works, what the purpose of it is. How it drives people and there are traditions connected to it. They usually wear black and their knowledge in that area scare or at least disturb all other passengers.”
Carl and all the others directed their gazes towards Mariann who seemed to be profoundly amused by this story.
“Also, usually the coachman is not aware of his importance or position in the group.”
Still, the gazes were focused on Mariann, observing the fire with a strange grin.
“What’s so funny?” Carl asked. “You’re that coach boy, as Maris is claiming.”
“What is really funny, is that this is claimed by you, somebody who also claims to not believe in supernatural BS, who claims that it is all trickery. You, who refused to come down into the tunnels to waste your time. You are now saying that a relatively incredible and yet in some way logical shard of an urban legend is suddenly as true as that the fire here is hot and burns the wood. Honestly I would not have believed it, not from you. Of course I cannot claim that it untrue. I may not know, likewise Marco might not be able to sense that the car is driving him and none of us may be able to foresee what consequence one or other action may bring.”
“You want to know what I saw?” Aliis asked.
Her voice was quiet but it was very effective at breaking the tension and the argument heating up between Carl and Mariann.
People fell silent again, now focused on the face of the girl with the long dark dress, illuminated by burning fire. Tears were rolling down her face.
“I saw that I was back to that gas station where we met. I saw myself be Mariann. I was convinced that I was her. I looked like her, my voice was hers. And I was there a year ago. I saw myself with Dani. I saw myself ride, I saw the accident. I knew in advance that something would happen, yet I did not know that exactly that would happen. I also could do nothing to avoid it happening.”
“Very interesting.” Mariann said, she noticed Carl again looking at her. “Do you remember if I was there?”
“No.” The sorrowful voice replied. “It keeps repeating in my head but I remember no particulars, only the accident. I can’t remember whether you were there. I cannot remember even whether I was you. But when it ended I had a feeling that I was either you or me or the girl in black. Or part of all three. Also, when it ended, I saw that the car was driven by a slim young man in black.”
“Aren’t Mariann and the girl in black the same thing?” Maris asked, her voice drowned out the sorrow of Aliis.
“Not necessarily.” The girl in black replied. “There is a clear distinction. You yourself said that the coachman changes on every trip. And the person in the position may not be aware of it at all. Maybe right now it is me, maybe it is not. With the girl in black it has the common aspect that I am me, Mariann, as a person I am concrete. But a girl or a young man in black is an idea, a role anybody can play. It is also a sign one can apply to anybody, just like Carl demonstrated just a short while ago. But not all people in black necessarily wear black.
“As an explanation to you, Aliis. You said you were unsure if you were one of the three or part of each? But what if at the moment you were down there, in the dark hallway, you were all three? At the same time? That is possible. It s a strange and disgusting feeling, but a possible one. Especially on the Lake. The Girl in Black is an idea that is not limited to this car. The whole world is filled with mysterious figures like that. And one of them is connected with the phenomenon we are part of at the moment.
“And at the same time, Carl.” She raised her voice as she mentioned his name. “This is one other piece of evidence in support of my theory that all of us have met in some way before, even if we are not aware of it. Carl sold my best friend powdered cement, that is my connection with him. Aliis saw me in the gas station...”
“Were you there?” Maris asked.
Mariann fell silent.
“I may have been.” She said. “Aliis is not insane, although my recommendation and warning back then were stemmed from common reason rather than some feeling that something bad was about to take place. Can I turn back to my previous train of thought?”
Nobody had any objections and silence again fell.
“So, Aliis saw me in the gas station. In a similar manner I may have met each of you in the past and you likewise may have met each other. One selling something to the other, meeting of gazes on the street. They may not have been dramatic events, but again who knows for sure, certainty like that lies beyond the limits of our perception.”
This last part of Mariann’s sentence caused a wave of cold come over Carl, and he had no explanation why. He tried not to look at her, feeling she might sense it too. The wind was getting stronger again, maybe that was the reason why he felt cold. And the wind howling as it cut against the sharp edges of the building intensified that feeling.
“Can anybody hear that?” Aliis asked.
Carl now too involuntarily perked up his ears.
“It is just the wind howling.” Marco said.
“No… it is not.” Maris said, eyeing the car and the darkness of the night behind it. “It is not just wind, there is something else as well. Some kind of engine.”
“I hear it too.” Carl said and got up, heading for the car, Aliis was already ahead of him.
As he had thought before, the black Volga parked with it’s side across the entrance protected them from the rain and the wind, because now, standing in front of it, he could feel the cold on his face. Aliis had already disappeared however, into the rain and wind. Carl continued walking, sensing how more and more rain finished it’s journey on his skin and clothes and how the wind was trying to blow him down. Aliis was gone, but the sound persisted, it had even grown slightly louder.
Higher and lower notes, the high-pitched whine of the engine. Then he noticed a beam of light driving back and forth on a black featureless plane in the distance. It then stopped, starting with a different movement, driving in what could be seen as figure eights. Finally, when his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he saw the girl standing before her, standing like a pillar of salt and observing the spectacle.
“It’s Dani, I know it.” She said. “It’s him. He’s dead, but it’s still him.”
As if hearing the girl’s words, the light went out and the noise grew stronger and nearer. Only a madman would act like that, Carl thought, riding towards people with no lights and trying to scare them.
“Get out of the way.” Carl said, pulling the arm of the girl. “You do not want to stay in the path of a speeding motorbike. No matter who it its. He’s either a suicidal maniac or somebody unbelievably stupid.”
“It is him.” Aliis kept whispering. “I know it!”
The engine sound grew stronger and stronger, the pitch kept climbing higher and higher and Carl felt a strong desire to get back into the cave. The glow of the fire reflecting off the walls was a nice guide in this darkness.
The source of the deafening sound suddenly passed right by him, with no more than a meter between them. It brought along a wave of air which even managed to dissipate the winds of the storm. And then it started to grow distant again and Carl looked behind him towards the sound, towards the black woods under a dark cloudy sky. The whine of the engine still grew more and more distant until it disappeared into the noises of the rain and wind.
“Shall we return?” Carl asked the girl next to him, whose arm he was still holding.
He could not see her face, but still sensed that she nodded. With a quick pace they headed back towards the cave that was their home this night.
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“Did you see anything interesting?” Mariann asked, giving at least Carl a strong impression that she knew more of what happened than all others combined.
“Dani!” Aliis said, sitting down by the fire. “I saw him! He came to say goodbye!”
“There was some nut.” Carl said. “He did some tricks with his motorbike in the distance and then drove right by us very fast and very close by. And then disappeared into the forest.”
“I’d like to see the guy who rides a superbike into a forest.” Maris said. “not here, not with any speed.”
“Did you see your beloved?” Mariann asked.
“No. But I know it was him. He loved tricks like that. Not as dangerous as this, but still similar ones.”
“I still believe it was some mad biker.” Carl said.
“If it really was, then you can probably explain how a biker can pass us at 160kph, break the speed down about a hundred meters before the forest but maintain the sound of bike opening up the distance without losing any of the speed it approached and passed with? It was Dani.”
“Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t.” Mariann said. “Carl is claiming something else though. It is also possible for both of you to be wrong. There is an inordinate amount of concrete here, which in turn contains lots of crushed limestone and granite and there’s also bedrock.”
“How is that related to anything?” Marco asked, managing to do it before Carl could even form the question in his mind.
“Well, It could have been an insane biker.” Mariann said. “But it could have been a ghost. In the former case the question is how, and in the latter, why. But there is a third way. And maybe even more. It may have been an echo of the events from the times past, recorded into the rock and something gave you a chance to see it replayed. It may have been Dani but only as a memory recorded into stone depicting what he did here maybe years ago. It also could have been some other biker speeding here, who knows.”
“You say that rocks have memories?” Carl asked. “I’m sorry but this is getting too science fiction-y even for me. This is impossible to believe.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Mariann asked. “No, it is not like if I have spun a great great deal of unbelievable yarn about this car, and if it proves true then I have earned a license to spin a similar yarn about the whole world, no. I am just introducing you to some alternative ideas which have much greater success in explaining things than explanations not as outlandish. I have said it before, despite how believable the theories might be, they still remain but speculations. The world and the Universe are much too complicated for us to claim anything with any certainty.”
“It is not only about rocks. Places, things, locations without rock may also possess this memory. And Aliis, the fact that you heard something, that we all heard may have been caused by our desire to believe.” Maris quietly spoke. “I have read about this before.”
“Not you too!” Carl said in a depressed tone.
“But it is very interesting.” Mariann said. “I can see two parallel ideas here, which we already discussed. Either we want to believe and our minds trick us or our strong belief in certain matters changes the world in ways we do not consider possible. Both options are plausible and non-exclusionary. It is like believing in what happened in the hallways or in what the car is. Whether it is self-deceit or something altogether more complicated, we may never know.”
Carl looked around, he had not a single thought remaining to reveal and it was obvious that nobody else had anything left to argue against Mariann’s points. And despite that it seemed that she would have wanted it, as it would have given her new options to talk about what she believed in.
“Is this like your earlier story about critical mass?” Maris asked. “That if a certain amount of people believe in something then that something becomes possible?”
“In broad strokes.” Mariann said. “The idea itself originates from Marco though. We cannot say that something is definitely possible. For example if two billion people believe that if they say Marco’s name three times in front a mirror, Marco will jump out with an axe and start opening up skulls, we cannot say that this will happen for sure, should somebody try saying it. But it also means that the majority will not try it. Also something might jump out that is only Marco for them, an insane young man wielding an axe. The problem lies in the aspect that we have no idea what is the rate of belief and what is the critical mass. It may be possible in absolute terms but at the same time impossible with regards to subjective perception of a person.”
Carl observed Marco being uncomfortable, especially him flinching every time Mariann mentioned him and the axe. In the store, the attendant had also said something about an axe murderer.
“Are you claiming that in reality we weren’t by the lake? That in reality there is nothing special about that car, that the only thing making anything special is us believing it?” Aliis asked.
“It is one way of thinking about it.” The girl in black replied. “We are here because most of us believe in this situation being unusual, while there is nothing unusual about it. At the same thing it may also be about the latter. But something unusual might also be happening, while we’re refusing to believe it is anything but usual. That already would be a good reason for us to be here. If we look at it in general terms, it might seem that at the same time we believe in something we also doubt it. This is not about our mind, it’s about our soul.
“Getting back to believing and reality, then who knows, maybe Allah and God are also located in some pockets of space in higher dimensions into which the wills of billions of people have borne them to. We don’t know if this is so. And the lack of knowledge does not result in something positive or negative, it is just an unknown.”
“I am just about the only clear-headed person here not believing in this BS.” Carl said. “Stories and ideas like these don’t add anything to one’s life, they only make it harder and more complicated. We do not need this complexity. I see no reason in looking for patterns, signs and lines in a trip five people are taking together, especially if these make it some mysterious meeting which will never again repeat in the future and which is only important because it is taking place right here right now. As much as has become clear to me, here is but our common journey during which we share the vehicle, the roads and our thoughts, nothing more.”
“It is already good you’re not calling it some satanic philosophy.” Maris quietly muttered.
“I can call it that, if you so wish. But I did not feel that prudent.”
“There is mystery here.” Marco said quietly. “We have all seen it, experienced it. Even if it is only because one of us is the storyteller and the others listen to her, enchanted by it like little lambs. This is actually for the better, because in us sense of mystery that was extinguished early in our youth is being reawakened. But if it is not so then we have much more to contemplate than reality and possibility. I like that certain conclusions can be drawn from anything, I like to believe in it.”
“Carl, do you know what’s the most interesting thing about all this?” Mariann asked. “That you might be precisely right. Maybe life really is not as complicated as I see it. And it is most certainly possible to live with a much simpler look on life than even yours. But as Marco put it, I like believing that the world is more complicated than I am perceiving. I like seeing patterns and waves the source of which I am not able to sense. At the same time, nobody knows whether we’ll meet in the future or not. As the old proverb says: “third times the charm.”
“You forgot a few things though. We’re not only sharing the car, the journey and our thoughts, we are also sharing time and space and of those two originate the core things that have brought us here by this fire on this panel of discussion.”
Mariann sighed and threw a few logs into the fire, which caused a cloud of embers to appear.
“Every person has a different understanding of the world. Enjoy it, as it is one of the few things that truly can be enjoyed and with regards to which you will always be right... at least in some partial sense.”
XI
Black vibrating sedan flew along a highway, while mile markers flew right towards it and the reflecting line dividing the lanes flowed towards them like liquid paint. The Volga vibrated stronger than in the previous days. It also moved faster. Marco knew it as well, he felt he could squeeze every last drop of performance out of it, and then some. The car was still clean, it glistened in the sun, capable of blinding anybody looking at it at a wrong angle. This was partly the service of nature, the night wind and rain which gave the car back this peculiar shine with which it had greeted Marco and all the others before and after him.
There was no doubt that the people inside the car were familiar to each other, even good friends. There was a young man sleeping in the middle of the rear seat. From one side window, somebody’s long hair waves in the passing wind, on the other side, a girl was plucking holes into the pillar liner with a needle pin. In the front seat there was was a young man with a buzz cut, next to him sat a girl in black, her gaze directed into the distance. Yesterday was all but forgotten. Each and every one of them remembered their personal experience down below, each of those of course that had experienced it. And pieces of the long and very confusing and thought-requiring conversation that followed in the evening.
At least that’s what Marco’s description sounded like, as he looked around in the car and observed the people in it. He himself and the others probably as well were feeling that their time together, in this realm, in this car was nearing it’s end. The car was giving its last for them, their three days, their journey was coming to an end.
“Has anything happened yet?” Maris asked, bending towards the front seat.
“Not yet.” Marco said and again glanced at the green unfolded piece of paper on his thigh.
“Nothing is supposed to happen, anyway.” Mariann said in a cold voice, still staring at the pale yellow blinding solar disc rising above the horizon. “You don’t know how the name is supposed to change, you are only making suppositions. For example, what are you remembering from the moment you met the car at first?”
“Nothing special.” Marco said, staring at the wide open highway. “Only that the driver of the car braked a little too suddenly when seeing me. But I think this is more about me sitting on the side of the road and waiting for death with nothing to make me more visible for the drivers.”
“Probably that sudden braking was a sign and at the same time a synchronistic event, marking that the journey and the trip of the former group were over. You say that you were sitting by the side of the road and waiting for death. If we continue along those tracks then we might say that you found death. Death came to you, but not to take you along but to show you what and how the other side looks like and that waiting for death was not the best thing to do at that time.”
Mariann turned to look at the people on the back seat.
“Hey Maris, is there anything interesting visible from the back window?”
Marco observed from the mirror as the girl sitting in the back row craned her head to look out the window.
“I don’t know. Would a flock of rooks be special?” the girl asked.
“Marco, how fast are we going?”
“Hundred and thirty. These rooks must be damn special if they can keep up with that.”
“They’re special enough.” Mariann replied quietly.
“Why are these birds so important?” Aliis asked.
“They aren’t. But sometimes one must be convinced in their faith. And these rooks are a sufficient sign to be certain in what I believe.”
“Please ask if Carl wants to get his radio back.” Marco said.
“I won’t. He’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” Mariann asked. “We’ll see about that. Hand me that bottle of engine oil, I will sacrifice him to the Volga and then we can keep the car.”
Maris stared at Mariann with a confused face. There was no chance in the breathing rhythm of the young man between Aliis and Maris.
“Very good.” Mariann said. “Now I’m certain he’s asleep. No, Carl cannot get his radio back. He may try to take it, but it may never work correctly even again. It has already become part of the Volga both in the physical as well as the spiritual sense.”
“How do you know this?” Aliis asked. “Also off the side of the road?”
“Yes.” Mariann again directed her gaze at the sun which was now slowly starting to paint the road with its light. “Aliis. Slightly more than a year ago, I really was at that gas station. I really did talk to you. I really did recommend against continuing your endeavor. Deep down I did know what was about to happen. Maybe it was the smell of death alerting me to it, maybe something else. In any case, I knew that something bad was to happen and that somebody would die. It is possible that everything you saw really did take place a year ago. Also, when he lost control of his bike and had to dodge the Volga, do you know what were the first words of the young man driving the Volga?”
““You knew this would happen, right?”” Aliis said.
“Yes.”
“He was the one to make you who you are now?” Marco asked.
“No. Nobody did anything. I myself wanted to be like him, back then I was young and naive. And after our journey came to an end, I continued my life trying to learn that same knowledge he had. And up until know I am still not sure I have learned anything at all. I still feel like the little girl I was a year ago.”
“Why did you not want Carl to hear it?” Marco asked.
“It is not about this. It is about what comes after. Aliis, you also saw a dark hallway which pulled at you and in which a part of you could not enter?”
“Yes, this followed straight after what happened in the gas station.”
“That was also my thing. During the first time we made it to the Lake. This did not happen here, but in some other place, at another nameless old military base in the distant South. Back then I could not go. I did not want to. I was left aside like did Carl in our group. But this time I did go down and I made peace with myself. The next time Carl meets the car, he too will have to go down and he probably will.
“Maris, you were right that every time the car will have a coachboy or a coachgirl. Somebody who knows more than the others about everything going on merely because they did not want to be a part of it the previous time. In some sense they are also behaving as the storyteller, whether they want it or not.”
“So the next time, Carl will be like you are now?” Maris asked.
“I doubt it. Carl’s position is going to be interesting. He feels skeptical about all of this and yet he will know what is about happen. How it will happen. He does not believe it and yet he knows and sees the pattern repeating. That is all I can say, that his journey will be different from mine.”
“There is one other thing though. The thing Carl was so excited to speak about. Or rather what he found weird. Namely the brakes, the transmission and the engine. I was there when these got installed. That was my and Osvald’s gift to the Volga, so to say. A gift to the legend. Nobody meets this car twice in the same shape.”
“The what do you know about the origin of the phenomenon?”
“For us, everything started when we sat into the car. Or maybe when we were born, I don’t know really, everything’s possible. The car may also be a divine being. Why must everything have a beginning? We are already claiming that the Universe has it and the Christian world as well. I cannot really explain which idea is more primitive, whether it is assuming that everything has a beginning or that everything has always existed. It would be the same to ask when rain came into being.
I think this car, this coach, has always existed and will continue to always exist as long as there are people who believe in its existence. Perhaps once long ago it was a coach drawn by six black horses, maybe a car driven by oxen even before that. Perhaps a lone horse before that and a curious companion able to tell stories about the magic of the world at the very beginning. But in time, things have changed. Maybe in a few decades the Volga will be replaced with a German luxury car from the current era. Who knows.”
“Mariann, how long exactly have you walked the side of the highway?” Aliis asked.
The girl in black fell silent. She again directed her gaze into the distance outside the window. It seemed to Marco that she focused all her attention to that.
“Why was it important for Carl to not hear this?” He finally dared to ask.
“Because that’s how it is supposed to be. I cannot explain why. It was done to me and so will each preceding coach boy do with the succeeding one. Maybe it is a cautionary measure to not break the chain, or maybe something else. Maybe somebody already broke the chain in the past, who knows. History stays quiet about those people. I however have no wish to experiment what happens if something like this should take place. But I can tell your name three times while standing in front of a mirror.”
“I thought last night that you would do it.” Marco said.
“Sorry. The connection between you and the axe felt regretful only after I had said it out loud. As long as it remained in my thoughts, it didn’t have nearly as many meanings, in any case I never had the true intention to do it. If there is one thing I have learned walking on the side of the road, it is that there is confidentiality in this. The names are not important and they shouldn’t be, just like ideas. One must present ideas under their own name, to protect those who have been in this car before us.
I am speaking of it like this, because it is hard for me to be who I am not, even if I try to do it for a short time. It is part of human nature to add something to a story when conveying it. Or to remove something, to speak in their own name as their own thoughts. Just like you talked about your meeting, or me, or somebody else. Who knows, maybe there is no Arianne nor Osvald, it is just a story I am telling. As there are no Dani, Tom or whoever else has cropped up in our stories. All the experiences we have spoken about may possibly be somebody else’s.”
“How can one know that? Whether the other person is how they are. Whether what he’s talking about is his own or not?” Marco asked. “How would I know you are really Mariann?”
“You won’t. Just like in Stalker. For all of you I am the Girl in Black, you are the Buzz Cut Young Man et cetera. On a daily basis with no special agreements it is not possible to really know another person. They either won’t let it happen for some special reason or only because they don’t trust the other. All information can be used for at least two purposes, for good and for evil. But no person completely changes their role, they change only lies in our behavior and speech. Our selectivity changes. But how we think and what we are, that does not change and if a person does not maintain an impeccable control over his body and manners, everything becomes visible if only one pays enough notice.”
“So in our case nobody is really pretending?” Marco asked.
“We don’t know and that’s the magic of the whole thing and legend.” Mariann smiled.
The girl in black directed her gaze back on the road. Marco did so as well. Unnoticed by them and the others, the road had changed. It was no longer a black surface reflecting the sun with white lines on the sides of it running from the lack of beginning into endlessness. It had become a potholed road the top layer of which mostly consisted of crushed granite suspended in oil shale bitumen. On the side of the road, the were tall black firs and deep woods. In the distance they could see sunshine, but sun itself was hidden behind the gate or a fence at the end of the road. It was impossible to say which of the two it was.
“You wanna offer an explanation?” Mariann asked, still grinning, she turned to talk to people on the back seat. “Can anybody offer an explanation how exactly did we end up here?”
“Where?” Maris asked, befuddled.
“Look out the window.”
“We are no longer on the highway? Why here?”
“Because we were supposed to come here.” Mariann said. “Even the compass says so.”
Margo lowered his eyes to see the needle of the compass mindlessly spinning around as if there was massive reserve of natural magnetite under the car.
“I bet this is the sign all of us have been waiting for. For Carl it was not anything noticeable because he was asleep but next time he too will understand what is about to happen. Perhaps between these two trips he might come to understand his fate as well. We’re not allowed to tell him that. I did, partly, but it really became clear to me when I saw the Volga again a few days ago.”
“There’s a gate ahead.” Marco said, getting Mariann’s attention. “Is that the nameless Southern town?”
“This is the external limit of the Border Town. Calling it a town is a bit too much though. In any case this is the place you and the rest wanted to reach, deep down.”
“You as well?” Aliis asked from the back.
“Me as well? I don’t know. Maybe. We are not always aware of our deepest desires, sometimes we push them aside as moronic fantasies, thus giving way to wishes which are the true moronic fantasies.”
“There’s a person at the gate. Some girl.” Marco said.
“If the green piece of paper on your laps has a girl’s name on it, then it must be her. I’m pretty sure it is.”
Marco lowered his gaze on the green paper. “Yes, some girl’s name is here now. Maria.”
“Did I miss anything?” Carl asked.
He leaned forward and grabbed the front seatbacks to stretch his shoulders.
“No you didn’t.” Maris quietly said. “You woke up at just the right time. We’re here.”
Carl raised his face to now also notice the gate in the distance growing nearer and nearer and the old sentry post next to it.
“The Southern town.” Mariann said. “The place you wanted to reach.”
“I did. All of us did if we’re to believe your stories.”
“Or your own claims before I even sat in the car.” Mariann replied, forcing Carl to fall silent.
Marco stopped the car about five meters before the gate. He turned off the engine and opened the door, bringing along the green title sheet. He got out of the car and approached the half-collapsed checkpoint with no roof. In front of it, on a green bench with peeling paint there sat a girl with gray skirt reaching down to her knees.
“Are you Maria Makhov?” The young man asked, looking at the green piece of paper.
“I am, what about it?” the girl asked.
She got up and approached him, only stopping in his personal space.
They were about the same height. Marco forced his eyes off her long blue hair and reached out his hand with the title.
“This is now yours. Take this and take care of it. The car has automatic transmission, by the way.”
“And what am I supposed to do with it?”
“You drive it. It is up to you where to. I cannot help you any more.”
Marco turned around and walked back to the car. The others had already gotten out. Carl walked around and stretched his legs, which had grown numb from his long sleep. Mariann threw him his bag.
“And now?” He asked.
“Now there’s nothing. Our journey has ended. Her’s is only beginning.”
They looked on as she sat in the car, reversed and then drove away. Marco kept looking at it as it drove away and saw the car disappear into a cloud of dust accompanied by the roar of the engine at full tilt. He then turned to see somebody open the latch on the ironclad gate and push the two sides open. It was Carl.
“Welcome to the land of the Fools.” He said, grinning.
“What are we doing next in here?” Aliis asked, wit a doubtful voice.
“Maybe that young man with the green off-roader knows?” Maris said.
Marco now too noticed that the road climbed a small hill a few hundred meters ahead of them. And on top of that hill stood an old American SUV and a young man next to it.
“You’re not coming?” Marco asked the girl in black who had sat down on the bench next to the gate.
“No.” She looked at the rook perched on the concrete gate post. “I feel it. My place is still on the road. My journey is not yet over, there is still much left to learn. Maybe I have to meet the Volga once again. Maybe the proverb “third time’s the charm” in this case applies to me. In an ironic twist.”
“Does that apply to Carl as well?” Marco asked. “Will he too have to take two more journeys on the highway?”
“I cannot know that. I don’t have to know that anyway, the journeys of others are not our business, especially if they haven’t taken place yet. But I do know that he won’t get to enjoy peace for long, soon he’ll be back on the road.”
“And me?”
“You went down to the lake. Of you I know nothing else. This is a totally different journey you’re standing at the beginning of. But my place is here, on the road. It was here a long time ago and it will be for a little while more. But your place is there. In the Border Town. I’m sure we will meet again, at some time, in some place. Now go, the others are waiting.”
Marco started to go. With a slow and steady pace. Never stopping nor looking back. His direction were the fields and the gravel road bisecting them. And the green SUV by which people were already waiting after him.