It was the horrid alarm that brought us here on the long and perplexing road, which felt like forever; though, I wasn’t alone on this journey. The pair of us were heading home to Kansas from Nebraska. An urgent circumstance broke out as Chris's (my best friend from college) brother, Nate, had a dire stoke earlier this morning and he hasn't woken up yet. A friend went to check on him and that's when we got the call to come home immediately.
The dashboard of the blue and white 1967 Ford F100 Pickup read: 3:36 PM. It's cold leather chilled my back as I leaned deep into the car seat. I looked through the windshield, hardly noticing the world outside while Chris's hand rested atop the steering wheel; the inaudible clicks of the gears shifting. Being the rental it was, there were countless dust particles polluting the air. They shimmered and glistened like the ocean's horizon. Nonetheless, the vehicle smelled of sandalwood and a soothing musk as a black ice Christmas tree dangled from the rearview mirror. Sitting in the passenger seat, my legs crossed at the feet; nervous, I piddled my thumbs and intertwined my fingers. The pit feeling of fear engulfed me as I attempt to drown it out by focusing on the 180 horsepower, 1.9-liter engine purr. I can perceive the panic grow one second then fade the next. It was a great big swirl of distress that seemed to nip at its own tail. Chris peered over his shoulder and noticed my scared demeanor in hopes Nate, my boyfriend, would be alright. It wasn’t just me that was afraid, he too was worried about his older sibling; however, he was better at masking his emotions. He tried calming me and placed a hand on my arm, gently rubbing it in a peaceful pattern. Each stroke of friction caused a lull in my breathing to transition into a subtle sigh. “You okay kiddo?” I heard his gruff voice mutter from my left. I shake my head hesitantly in response to his question. Glancing in his direction I remark his familiar copper brown shoulder-length hair and heavy stubble. The way his long legs idling on the floorboard of the truck seemed to barely fit; it leads me to smirk, causing his hazel eyes to meet mine. "What?" he asked aloud. "Your legs don’t quite fit, do they?" I lightly chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry that I'm 6'3." Chris grinned. "Mister Sasquatch." I ridicule him. On the daily. "Miss Hobbit." "Frickin nerd!" "Dork!" The two of us shared laughter for a moment which quickly died down and was driven back to the silence that lingered inside the vehicle. Time flowed like cement with not much of a view other than the windows; smothered in yolk-gold pollen and thin splotches of beige dirt. Chris’s muscle suddenly twitched out of the corner of my left eye. His mouth hung low with a stiff expression; right index finger tapping furiously on the wheel while his stare remained glued to the sharp road. Like hail on glass, the drumming of his digits was ruthless as it was loud. I observe his body language and with each passing mile, he was starting to break character and frenzy over his brother. I couldn't blame him one bit as I too dreaded every fleeting second. "Is there anything I can do to help calm your nerves?" Chris broke the infinite stillness. "I mean, some coffee might help," I said discursively. He rolled his eyes with a playful grin on his lips. "I should've known," he laughed remembering my true weakness, "you need to slow down on the coffee. Too much and your teeth will turn yellow." "Okay, Mom." I tease. "We'll stop at the closest fast food place." A minute had passed since the last time I checked an hour ago, or so it seemed. I started to drift into an unpleasant daydream or a paranoid fantasy about Nate. It was horrific: all I could do was sit and watch the life drain from his person. But I was bound and determined to not let that happen in actuality. Still, the hallucination did aid in passing time, though I wasn't really one for entertaining myself with optimism. The sunset threatened to sink behind the skyline. It's radiant glow shined and beamed brightly; coloring the atmosphere with diverse saffron-yellows and oranges. It was at this point we had entered a small community. The town was what settlements become with no city outlining and great interest for design. Each building was different in size and varied in vibrant tints and tones. Built in a shallow basin, the smattering of rotting wooden structures faded in plain sight.
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