After a catastrophe, the line between life and death tends to blur...
~~~
With the doors locked and alarm set, Danny made the drive home from his night janitor gig. The time was a little after one A.M., and the buildings of the city faded in the rear-view mirror, disappearing around the curve as they did at the end of every shift. It was the middle of the night -- it had been so for an eternity. A grey Seattle morning wouldn’t arrive for many more hours, and just like every other day, the darkness only added to the drab meld that was Dan’s solitary existence. He thought about the beer, and the quick, frozen whatever he’d microwave at home.
Sheets of rain and wind slapped the hood and windshield of Dan’s ancient pickup as he glided along the highway. Wind gusts buffeted him from side to side, and he made conscious efforts to stay in his lane. The soft green glow of the dash-lights and the drone of the engine were always there on the lonely commute. Convenience stores, service stations and the neon signs of the motels passed by. Ten miles down the highway, it was two lanes and more rural with some areas absent of streetlamps making him depend on the headlights. Tree branches and leaves blew around, scattered by the storm once he was out of the more populated areas.
He fiddled with the radio. Up and down the band he went, twisting the knob and looking through the windshield occasionally to stay on the road.
“Use caution tonight folks… The National Weather Service has an advisory for possible local...”
“Damn it, never any music… always yakkin’.”
Dan kept turning the dial to find the Greatest Hits station with the endless commercials he invariably settled on.
Up ahead was a long straight stretch of road, and a set of headlights were visible in the oncoming lane. It was hard to see but they didn’t appear to be moving, only Dan closed the distance. One of the oncoming headlights, dim and more orange than anything else, blinked off then back on, followed shortly by the other side doing the same.
Danny closed in, and a beat-up old minivan appeared to be parked in the oncoming lane. Tree branches, an old tire and other trash were positioned across the two-lane road to block any passage. A huge man wearing only filthy jeans and a tank top came into view from the graveled shoulder carrying a full residential trash can out into Dan’s lane, completing the blockade. Unless Dan plowed into the garbage can, he wasn’t getting through.
The stranger’s full beard was like that of a mountain man. His wild angry hair, and enormous stature reminded him of a sasquatch. The ogre stood in the center of the roadway soaking wet with his hands on his hips and smiling.
“Okay … he’s drunk,” Danny said out loud.
Dan shifted his truck into low gear, and his heart pounded. He looked for a driveway or wide spot where he could turn around, but there was nothing visible in the immediate area. Maybe he could just back up, he thought. He remembered seeing a side road a short distance back, but he wasn’t sure. He had driven the route all his life, but now he couldn’t be sure of anything.
He closed in wearily at walking speed and in low gear. Rain pounded on the rooftop and the windshield wipers tossed back and forth violently on their high-speed position. The giant of a man approached the truck with open arms, as if coming in for a hug. Dan’s window was rolled down an inch.
“Hey man… wheredaya think you’re goin’?” the stranger said.
Danny glared at him, the truck still rolling ahead slowly. Then without warning, Dan hit the gas and plowed into the garbage can. Trash flew in all directions, even onto the hood of his truck, with the plastic receptacle dented and tumbling to the side of the road. The rear wheels spun and the truck fish-tailed momentarily with the tires finally grabbing the pavement.
“Screw this,” Dan mumbled.
“Hey… get back here!” came from outside as he accelerated away from the bizarre scene.
He shifted to second gear and stomped on the gas once again. He looked in his rear-view mirror only to see sasquatch-man getting into the van and turning to follow. Dan saw the headlights wheel around, starting towards him.
He kept his eyes in the rear-view mirror, turning his head to look back occasionally. He reached behind the seat with his right arm for the tire-iron but couldn’t quite reach it. He thought it was in the center somewhere and looked back while keeping his foot floor-boarded on the gas pedal.
Danny’s sudden weightlessness was like that of a dream. He was looking backwards when his head hit the roof of the cab. To his disbelief, ahead was only an abyss, the highway and the Tukmamish bridge no longer existing.
I think I’m dreaming, he thought for an instant. Just as quickly as these thoughts passed, Smack! The grill plowed into the swollen Tukmamish River engulfing the hood and windshield in a wall of blackness. It then occurred to him why the giant man was blocking the highway a few hundred yards back.
His pickup truck bobbed and floated for an instant, but quickly began to fill. He gathered his thoughts. The far bank of the river where the immovable concrete bridge abutment once stood was no more. Sections of roadway and twisted steel beams protruded from the center of the river. The once calm and meandering Tukmamish had transformed into a raging demon, doubling, even tripling its size and obliterating everything in its path. He was swallowed whole, and without notice.
He rolled his window down. A brown, churning surge like that of a bursting dam consumed the interior of the cab, but he managed to pull free.
In every direction were black swirls and up or down had no meaning. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer, then Dan popped to the surface and gasped. But the currents were overwhelming. One moment he was above water, the next he was up-side down and pinned to a boulder. The river moved at a rapid pace, faster and far more violently than he thought possible. Debris and rocks smashed into him, tumbling him in every direction. He swallowed water, sputtering and choking.
His mind raced. Dan never pictured it ending this way, and right this very moment. To think something so absurd was impossible. A little earlier, he had looked forward to the weekend. He was going to enjoy the two cans of beer he was about to purchase from The Corner Grocery a few more miles down the road.
Now, he wouldn’t arrive home at all -- and that would be that. He would have simply vanished. Maybe the neighbors would question where he’d been the last few weeks: “Haven’t seen Danny’s truck around lately, I wonder where he’s been hidin’ out?”
Dan surfaced and gulped the air. The river was wider and slower now that he was down-stream a half mile or more. He made a feeble attempt at swimming towards the riverbank, but this was fruitless. A cottonwood tree felled by the immense winter storm protruded about fifty or sixty feet into the river and into his path. He was swept directly to its sprawling branch system like a fish into a net.
The river still tormented him, but it was weaker here. It bullied him, shoving Dan into the branches as he tried to make his way to high ground. Hand over hand, he grasped at the limbs, his clothing snagged at points along the way. He worked his way free and headed towards the riverbank. Nearing shore, his feet sunk into the water-logged soil and his legs shook. He reached the riverbank and staggered a short distance only to collapse in the mud face down, exhausted -- but alive.
Danny lay and rested. The river continued its roar, but the torrent of rain inundating the entire region over the past three days had stopped -- for now. He rolled over and sat, contemplating what to do next.
After a few minutes, Dan stood up. His shoes were missing as were his glasses, and he wobbled up the hill. After about twenty-five paces, a highway came into view running parallel to the river in a north-south direction. He looked up at the sky and rubbed his neck. A few evening stars peeked through, emerging momentarily, and disappearing again between rapidly moving clouds. Timeless constellations, existing eternally above the pettiness of the storm and the Earth shined with the promise of clearer days.
He needed to get back to the bridge site, maybe help was there by now. He walked north, upstream when the sound of a vehicle approaching from behind caught his attention.
“Help… please, I need help!”
He stepped into the road waving his arms. The car swung wide into the other lane, horn blaring.
“Get the hell outta the road asshole … goddamn homeless everywhere.”
“I’m not homeless …” He screamed back. “I almost died in the river!”
The vehicle faded into the distance. Dan plodded north, staggering along the side of the highway. The graveled shoulder was like walking bare-footed, even with wet socks. He continued moving ahead, staying slightly on the pavement.
Another vehicle approached from behind, one of the newer peppy German models, and it too swung wide into the other lane.
“Help.” he screamed again waving his arms. “I need help… please!”
The driver looked straight ahead, holding a steady gaze on the highway with the lifeless stare of a clothing mannequin, emotionless and without pity. The car shifted down a gear and the engine began to roar, speeding past him with only the taillights disappearing into the mist.
“It’s okay… I wouldn’t pick me up ether.”
He remembered the cell phone in his back pocket. He felt around, but it was no more. He continued staggering forward, one step at a time in an endless journey to find his way home.
The night dragged on. Just then, a terrible realization began invading his mind. With the thin veneer of humanity gone, Dan was now among the derelicts he had dismissed for years. He himself had existed on the edge of this dangerous precipice all his life and remembered seeing it numerous times with others. Danny recalled recognizing an individual he had known in high school decades earlier, holding a cardboard sign on a freeway offramp -- a non-person.
“I’m that guy.”
Dan stopped for a while and rested, sitting on the shoulder. More cars passed with unrelenting apathy. Maybe some were frightened considering he looked like a vagrant who had just received a solid ass kicking.
A tractor-trailer approached, but from the north this time and he didn’t bother to try and flag him down. The truck was going the wrong direction, and he no longer had the strength to lift his arms.
Off in the distance, another set of headlights approached, the passenger side dim and more orange in color than the other. It closed in, and the familiar shape of the minivan became clear.
“I wasn’t sure if you lived or not,” Sasquatch man said from the driver’s window. “I saw you jump out of your truck and get swept down the river… thought I’d come and see if ya made it.”
“Dear God… thank you, thank you for stopping,” Dan said, his voice shaking.
“Why don’t ya hop in, and I’ll give you a ride back to town… by the way, I’m Angelo, I’m usually located a short distance from here near the bridge. You think ya might need to go to the hospital?”
“I don’t think I’m hurt, but I almost gave up.” Dan said laughing. “I could use a lift into town.”
He opened the passenger door and slid into the seat, fastening his seat belt. The van was warm and dry, and the news radio blared today’s weather report.
“Do ya wanna hear somethin’ funny,” Dan said. “I’m thirsty like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh…there’s coffee in the thermos,” Angelo said pointing at the bottle in between the seats. “But I’ll warn ya… it’s spiked with whiskey.”
Danny picked up the thermos from between the seats, unscrewed the cap and poured himself a full cup. Steam rose and it warmed his hands. He took several sips, then downed the rest in a single swallow. Dan could feel the caffeine and alcohol burn all the way down.
“AAHHH … my God, that’s the best damn Irish coffee I’ve ever had.”
“I grind my own coffee beans daily and I always buy high-quality whiskey. That’s the real deal right there my man,” Angelo said.
Dan poured another big blast and sat back in his seat.
“By the way, sorry about hitting your garbage can back there at the bridge. You scared the crap out of me.”
“Don’t worry about that Danny, I know how ya feel … I learned way back things aren’t always what they appear. But I’m gonna tell you something important, something I’m afraid you need to know… I accidentally drove into the river too … a long time ago. I’ve been missing for years -- just like you.”
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