The Road to (Outer) Nowhere (Space)

Chapter 10: Minor Delays

The blazing desert sun gave way to millions of stars. The Ipod had been playing for very long now and the volume was decreasing, but Jack could still hear the music:

His lethargy was interrupted by a huge noise. He turned over and saw a black object coming firmly towards him. It stopped about 5 meters away with a long and dusty skid. As the dust settled, Jack got up to see a small chubby blond haired guy pointing a gun at him.
- Hey man take it easy...
- Who are you?
- My name is Jack Mason. Paul MeXico was just here but had go somewhere.
- Ahh, OK. My name is Roger. Roger Miranda. The best cars salesman there is.
He tucked in the gun as Jack started packing his stuff in the trunk. Roger was an energetic fellow. Always talking and laughing. They had gotten in the car, Jack in the driver's seat and Roger in the passengers. Jack reached for the ignition to realize there were no keys.
- Do you think I traveled so many miles and just handed the car to you?
- Ok, so how much does it come to?
- Let's see, the base price was 75 thousand. Now, the radio with CD player and the speakers are 15 hundred, and the petrol to get here was 100 dollars and my commission for this effort is about 1000 dollars.
Jack grinned, picked up his suitcase that had the Venetian tag. Got 80 thousand dollars and handed them to Miranda.
- The keys please.
-Yeah, sure. Here you got. The pink slip is inside the glove compartment. The car is in prime conditions.
Jack placed the key in the ignition, turned it and accelerated. The car started immediately. He turned it with a sharp skid and they were off.
- It looks quite fine I think.
- Trust me man, it's a quality buy.
- So, where do I drop you off.
- I... I need a ride to Anaheim.
- What? Do you know how fucking far Anaheim is?
- Well I told my wife I would be there in the morning. Tomorrow is shopping day.
- Ahh shit. Well, can't she go alone?
- Please man. It's either that or I have to wait for a cab.
- This is all Paul's fault. You are lucky, he helped me out, so I guess I owe him this.
He stepped on the gas and the car picked up speed along the motorway. Jack placed the CD in the player:

- So, you from around here?
- No, not really.
- I'm actually from California, but my wife is from here, so we got married, and moved to Anaheim. She is an accountant and I'm a car dealer. How about you? You work at the Venetian?
- What? No, just won some cash there.
- How about MeXico? Still got that piece of junk Jeep?
- Yeah, he's still got it. It's quite a ride. I kind of liked it.
- I've tried to sell him a couple of other off road cars but he doesn't ever leave that Jeep, in fact I think...
Jack swerved the car off the road and onto a trail, accelerating even more.
- Man, what are you doing?
- You didn't tell me there were cops on the road.
- I... I... They...
Jack picked up his gun and pointed it to Roger's temple. He started shaking and become pale.
- What is going on?
- Calm down... Please, I... They are making a perimeter... Someone had hijacked a bank, somewhere.
- Did they stop you?
- Yes.
- What did you say?
-I... I told them the truth. That I was going to deliver a car.
- Did you tell them where?
- Yes...
- Fuck!
- Please take that shit away from me!
Jack threw the gun into the back seat.
- Pick up that GPS, set the destination on off road mode. I'm dropping you off in the outskirts. It's gonna be bumpy, hold on.
- Did, did you rob the bank!?
- It's a long story.
Miranda spent the rest of the trip in absolute silence. In the darkness, Jack could see blue lights along a couple of roads. The cops were trying to find him. He thought about MeXico, if he had managed to get to his destination. After a couple of hours Roger asked him:
- You can drop me off in a small town called the Redlands. I've got a brother in law there.
- OK!
For the rest of the journey they did not talk at all. The car was pretty comfortable. In the horizon they started seeing lights. The Redlands was a small city inserted in the Desert Mountains.
- OK, you stay here.
Jack pulled over by a motel. Roger stepped out and still spoke:
- You gave me a extra cash. The real price was...
- Consider it an offer, for pointing the gun at you. Thanks for the attention.
- Ok! Cheers!
Jack filled the tank of the Camaro. Only then did he notice how bad the paint job was. The color was worn out in many spots and the doors had in fact a lot of bullet holes. There was a white star also painted on the door. He paid for the petrol and sat in the car trying to figure out how to work with the GPS. After 15 minutes he had calculated his destiny. Hibiscus Island in Miami via the mother road, route 66.
- Oh fuck, this is gonna be one hell of a trip.
He pulled off. Drove for a long while thinking of the hallucinating days he had just lived after the crash. He was driving along the desert plains when dusk "arrived". He drove and drove: