End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) (4 page)

“What if something
happens to the car? There isn’t a lot of traffic on that road.”

“The car is less than six
years old, it’ll be fine.”

Helen acquiesced and
agreed less time on the road would be easier for the kids.

“Where will we stay once
we get to Flagstaff? We can’t all live at the worker’s camp.”

“We’ll find a room or two
to rent. I’m sure people are taking in boarders up there as they are down
here.”

“Are we making the right
decision?” Helen asked. Her face was pinched with worry. Ash gray shadows
circled her eyes.

“Yes,” I answered and
kissed her cheek. Had I known how wrong I was, we would have stayed in Phoenix.

Chapter Five

We set out early the next
morning, just as the sun began to lighten the horizon. A small, wooden trailer
held furniture, the bulk of our belongings and extra cans of gas. Teddy and
Sara each brought a pillow, some books and a few toys to keep them occupied.
With the extra weight we were towing, I approximated that the trip would take
around six hours. With a little bit of luck, we’d be in Flagstaff right around noon
just as the heat of the July day began its peak.

Progress was slow and as
the incline increased, the car shuddered with each rotation of the tires over
unpaved road. We saw a few cars at first, but hadn’t seen any once we passed
Black Canyon City. Just a few miles over the border into Yavapai County, a loud
pop, like the release of a champagne cork, sounded from underneath the hood.
Steam came billowing out so I pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. The
engine exhaled a high-pitched whine and shut down.

Everyone was momentarily
silent. My mechanical abilities were limited to putting gas in the car and they
knew it.

“Well, I better go take a
look,” I said and stepped out of the car. Even though it was still morning, the
sun had already baked the earth and threatened to turn rocks into lava. It took
a few minutes to lift the hood, but I didn’t need to be a mechanic to know we weren’t
going anywhere anytime soon. Steam fogged my glasses and I had to remove them in
order to see the problem. A crack ran down the side of the radiator, spewing
forth steam like a geyser.

Helen walked up behind me
and peered over my shoulder.

“Do you know what’s
wrong?” she asked.

“Yes.” I sighed and
backed out of the steam. Sweat dripped down my neck, dampening my shirt collar.

“Can you fix it?”

“No.” I sat down on the fender
that curled over the driver’s side front tire and stared out at the horizon.

“Oh.”

She stood next to me for
a few minutes. “Well someone is bound to come along. We’ll ask them for help.”

“Why don’t you go check
on the kids?” I needed to be alone. The one negative I neglected to tell Helen
about this route was that hardly anyone used it, especially since 89 had been
recently paved. The occasional rancher used this road when checking on his
cattle. As the sun beat down on my back I prayed for traffic.

The heat became
unbearable and I went back to the shade the interior of the car provided.

“Daddy, I’m thirsty,”
Sara whined.

“Drink some water.”

“There isn’t any left.”
Helen said. Her words were clipped. She was annoyed.

“What do you mean? We
have two Thermos’ full.”

“When I came back to the
car, Sara and Teddy were fighting. They knocked one of the bottles over and all
of the water spilled out.”

“What about the other
bottle?”

“They drank that already.
We don’t have anything else to drink.”

The cracked radiator had
just been replaced by a more serious situation. We had planned on a six hour
drive. The water we brought would have been enough.

An hour passed, maybe two.
I kept glancing at my wrist, forgetting my watch was gone. The interior of the
car became increasingly warmer. Our Ford was essentially a black metal box and
a magnet for the suns’ rays. The children had dozed off and Helen shifted in
her seat to check on them. I turned too and saw how flushed their cheeks were.
Their hair, damp with perspiration, clung to their scalps.

“We can’t stay here all
day,” Helen whispered. Her face was pinched, the crease in between her eyes
more pronounced. Panic threatened to take over, she had the same expression
during an asthma attack when it turned from manageable to life threatening.

“Someone will pass by
soon.” I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Another hour passed.

“Mommy, I don’t feel
good,” Teddy said.

“Do you want to sit with
me?”

He nodded and Helen got
out so Teddy could climb in between us. The moment he stood outside the car, he
vomited. When he finished, he fell against Helen and cried. I ran around to
help and scooped him up in my arms. There weren’t any trees large enough to
provide shade, so I sat down on the ground in the shade created by the car.
Teddy had stopped sweating, but his face remained an alarming shade of red.

“I think it’s cooler out
here. I’ll get Sara,” Helen said.

Teddy had fallen back
asleep and I removed his shirt to help him cool down. Helen came around the car
with Sara in her arms. She took my lead and removed Sara’s dress.

“We need water, she’s
burning up.”

I placed my hand on
Sara’s forehead and couldn’t believe how hot it was. It was hotter than when
she had influenza three years earlier.

“I’ll go see if there’s a
stream nearby.”

I walked out into the
desert. Not a single building dotted the horizon. I found a watering hole for
cattle, but the water was more mud and manure than anything. Dizziness
overwhelmed me and I vomited onto the sand. I struggled to stay upright and
fell onto my knees, just inches from where I had been ill. It took considerable
effort to regain my footing and walk back to the car. Helen’s skin had taken on
the same tomato red as Teddy and Sara’s cheeks. Her lips were white and dry, as
if colored over with chalk. The children were lying down on either side of her
asleep.

“Any cars pass by?”

Helen shook her head no,
the motion was slow and deliberate and I imagined it took her as much effort to
move her head as it took for me to get up off the ground.

“I didn’t find any water
either.” I sunk down next to her and rested my head against the side of the
car. The sun was almost overhead and our shade was shrinking.

“We need to move back
into the car,” I told Helen. She slowly stood up, holding onto the door handle
for support. Her breathing was shallow and I feared an asthma attack was
imminent. “I’ll get the children Helen, you relax.”

I bent down to wake
Teddy, but he was slow to respond. “Teddy,” I said and shook him slightly. He
rolled over onto his back and his arms flailed open. “Teddy?” I kneeled closer
and noticed his chest wasn’t moving.

“What’s wrong?” Helen
asked, but I didn’t answer.

“Teddy!” I yelled and
picked him up. His body was limp in my arms. I held him against me and tried to
breathe life into his lungs, but it was too late. He was gone.

“No!” Helen wailed and
tried to pull him away from me, I held on tight. Her hands fluttered over
Teddy, not sure where or how to administer healing.

Suddenly I became vaguely
aware of movement to the right of us, which was accompanied by a loud
hiccupping sound. I turned my head to see Sara flailing on the ground in a fit.
Saliva tinged a sickly yellow from bile foamed out of her mouth and her eyes
were rolled up in her head. Just a half circle of hazel could be seen in the
whites.

Helen crawled over and
tried to still her. Sara’s head cracked against the hard dirt repeatedly and
finally the seizure released its grip. Sara remained motionless and Helen
hovered over her; her lips moving in silent prayer as she brushed loose curls
away from Sara’s face. Helen’s body shuddered and she stared at me. The panic
seen on her face earlier had been replaced with sorrow. Dark smudges under her
eyes clashed with red cheeks; a mask of unimaginable pain.

We were so far gone that
we couldn’t produce tears. We just wailed and held onto one another in our
grief. Mad from the heat and our loss I pulled out our pistol from the glove
compartment. Helen looked at it then up at me and she nodded in understanding. We
leaned towards each other until our foreheads were touching. She exhaled, but
it was just a whisper of breath.

“I love you, Helen. Thank
you for sharing your life with me.” I sat back slightly and kissed her dry
lips.

“I love you too,
Lawrence.” She reached for my hand holding the gun and raised it to her temple.
I stared at her, silently questioning and she nodded again, harder this time,
more absolute. “Please,” she pleaded and a stray tear spilled down her cheek.

The blast from the shot
rippled out across the desert. Helen slumped sideways, life faded from her eyes
until there was nothing left. I scooped her up with what remained of my
strength and lay her next to our children.

Taking my place beside
her, I shot myself.

* * *

Darkness surrounded me
which gradually faded and I found myself standing by the car. I could see my
body, a crumpled heap next to my beloved family. Confused, I walked over and
tried to wake myself, but my hands moved right through anything I attempted to
touch. That’s when I realized I was no longer alive. I also realized my family
had passed on and left me behind.

Chapter Six

The hardest part about
our deaths was that if we held out just a little bit longer, we might have been
saved. The sun was still high in the cloudless blue sky when a dusty green
pick-up truck pulled up behind our car. A wrinkled old rancher walked around
the side on bowed legs and made the horrible discovery. He took his cowboy hat
off and held it over his chest, dipping his head in silent prayer. I lowered
mine and waited to cross over with this final blessing. Nothing happened.

He closed my eyes and
went back to his truck. He returned with a tarp and draped it over our bodies. He
left, but came back with help as the day was drawing to a close and shadows
were growing longer. A sheriff’s deputy took notes in a small black book. The
silver star on his black suede vest shone in the fading sunlight, reflecting
orange hues. He stood next to me, unaware of my presence and I watched as, one
by one, our bodies were loaded into the bed of the old rancher’s Chevy. Many
tears were shed when Sara and Teddy were lifted up off the ground. They cradled
them as children deserved to be cradled and the tears left tracks on dusty
faces. Grown men who battled to tame a wild countryside under brutal conditions
were moved by our fate.

The deputy helped load
our belongings into the back of his Studebaker and onto another truck. By dusk everyone
was gone and only our car remained. I hovered around, unsure what to do.

About a week later our
car was towed away. Then it was just me. There were many times in my life where
I wished for a few moments of peace and quiet. I soon realized that too much
can drive a person insane - if I was still considered a person. I gave up on
tracking days and moved on to the seasons, eventually I lost track of time in
general. It didn’t matter anymore. The highway grew, road crews slaved away under
the relentless sun, unaware of my presence. The spot where my family died was
paved over with asphalt.

Cars changed and traffic
increased. There were accidents, but if anyone died, they didn’t get stuck in
limbo like me. I had a lot of time to reflect back on my life for any clues as
to why I didn’t move on with my family.

My childhood had been considered
privileged and I rarely went without anything, but my family always gave back
to our community. My father was a doctor and he impressed upon us how short
life really is and not to squander it. We lived in Cambridge and it didn’t take
long to reach the tenements and slums of Boston, where we spent Sunday
afternoons serving food to those less fortunate than us.

The desperation I saw in
people’s eyes during the Depression was something these afternoons prepared me
for, but being a provider and protector of my own family made the desperation
seem even scarier.

I had just finished my
mid-term exams, during the spring of my third year at Boston College, and came home early. My father saw patients in his office, which was on the first
floor of our home. His office door opened just as I was hanging my coat and hat
on the rack. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a woman of incomparable beauty
walking towards me. Her fair skin showcased her large eyes, her brown hair hung
in waves around a long, elegant neck. She smiled at me, her lightly freckled cheeks
coloring slightly as she passed.

“Helen Stanley is her
name. You went to elementary school together,” my father told me after I had
immediately gone to his office and inquired about his patient.

“We did?” Surely I would
have remembered, but I wasn’t so memorable back then either.

The next time Helen had
an appointment with my father, I made sure I was there. Soon we were courting
and before long we were married.

We set up a nice home in
Arlington, a small town right outside of Boston where I worked for a small
accounting firm. In March of 1925, less than a year after we were married,
Teddy was born. Helen’s asthma, which my father had been treating her for, got
worse and we had to consider serious alternatives. All the options failed
except for one and the day after Helen’s most severe attack, we made the
decision to move to Arizona.

I’d led an uneventful
life, one I tried to live honestly and fully. So why was I forced to remain
here? The only answer I could come up with was that I failed my family. I was
meant to protect them, instead I caused their deaths.

An eternity of wandering
this small section of highway alone stretched out ahead of me - until someone
joined me.