“God this sucks!” Steve muttered into the night. Rain coursed over his eyes while he surveyed the flooded wash that cut across the dirt road, illuminated by his headlights. The opposite bank of the wash led to the freeway forty miles distant. Between him and that bank was a raging torrent of foamy brown water ten feet wide but of unknown depth. He ran his pale plump fingers through his dripping, bowl-cut brown hair. Two years prior, Steve had gotten his Jeep stuck in a mud puddle at the mall. After an hour and a half getting nowhere, he finally called a tow truck to pull it out. This ribbon of roiling water was no mud puddle.
Steve looked at his Jeep. Rain fell through the beam of his headlights like sparks. Lightning flashed and lit the desert around him in a brilliant pale blue light. Mountains shone bright as day against the backdrop of an angry black sky. He blew water from his lips and nose. Thunder crashed and shook the ground under his feet. A boulder the size of a man’s torso was thrown from the water and rolled to a stop in front of him. Any questions Steve had about whether he could do this had just been answered.
With the change in the weather this cross-desert shortcut became a longcut. Steve quickly rejected his other option—doubling back would take him nearly to the California-Arizona border. He would be closer to home in San Diego than his destination of Arizona State University.
“I thought this was a desert!” Steve yelled into the storm. Wiping a pool of water from his seat first, he hopped into his Jeep. He resolved to ride out the storm.
Steve twisted to look over his shoulder while he backed up. A bolt of lightning streamed across the sky above him. The flash settled on a shape that suggested a man in a black coat watching him from the side of the road. Steve’s heart skipped a beat and he blinked rainwater out of his eyes; a second flash showed only bushes and a fallen saguaro cactus.
Steve turned his Jeep away from the wash to backtrack. He had driven a short distance when a flash of lightning lit a dilapidated gray wooden building among the creosote bushes to his right. Steve slowed, rubbing water out of his eyes. The building had a shed he could park in to ride out the storm. He called out and honked his horn with no response. Steve drove his Jeep up to the shed and turned the engine off. Bushes grew across the entrance of the shed—a sure sign no one had driven into it recently. With no lights or cars to be seen, the place appeared to be abandoned.
Thunder rattled the old boards that passed for walls. Steve grabbed his flashlight and set out for the main building to introduce himself to anyone inside.
A chill shivered up Steve’s spine. “Hello?” he asked, tapping gingerly on the door. “Anyone here?”
With no response, he turned the porcelain knob and pushed the door open. Water dripped from his flashlight as he scanned the interior. Rusted cans sat on shelves lining the walls. Bridles, feedbags, stirrups and yokes stained the boards on which they were hung. Frayed blankets riddled with holes were stacked on each other in a corner. Rotting boxes sat behind a counter whose glass had long since disappeared. A bucket sat on the floor, half-full of water leaking from the ceiling. Someone had been here since the storm started.
“Hello?” Steve yelled into the building. His flashlight flickered then died. He banged it frantically against his palm. The metal hinges of the hood of his Jeep squealed and Steve tensed.
Holding his breath, Steve crept toward the corner of the building. His hands shook as he peered around the corner at his Jeep. A tall shadow held the hood open and grunted.
Steve gripped his flashlight like a club. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest. “Who’s there?” he asked quickly.
“Sounds like she could use some oil, pard’ner,” the shadow replied.
Steve cautiously approached the man. “I-I checked it before I left San Diego.”
The man lowered and raised the hood with a squeak. “Well she’s makin’ noise like she needs a might more.”
Lightning illuminated the man’s coarse, craggy face, weathered and trimmed with a bushy moustache. His dark eyes were looking over Steve’s Jeep with clear admiration. “I reckon it’s due to the rain,” he nodded.
“Oh, you mean for the hood.” Steve blew water from his nose and lips.
“These motorized buggies never fail to amaze me,” the man announced. “They don’t run on coal or wood, they don’t need tracks; it’s just amazing. This is the first one I done seen up close.” Thunder bounced through the desert around them.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Steve said, “I know it’s late. I just needed to get out of the storm.” He couldn’t bring himself to outright ask for shelter.
“No bother pard’ner, I don’t sleep and you’re the first person been out my way in awhile. Whatcha call her?” the man said, gesturing to the Jeep.
“Ya know it’s raining and all—raining pretty hard out here,” Steve gestured to the sky with the flashlight. “I don’t want to keep you out . . .”
“What’s her name? A man’s gotta name his ride.”
“What?” Rain pelted Steve. His clothing stuck to him like a second skin. “I haven’t really thought . . .”
“Looks like an Isabel to me. I really fancy that name. Isabel the motorcoach.” The man closed the hood and looked to Steve for approval.
“Yeah, that’s fine I guess. My name’s Steve.”
“Good to know ya Steve, they call me Judd.”
Steve shook Judd’s clammy hand and relaxed. Water dripped from Steve’s ears as Judd walked around the Jeep touching various parts of it.
“So this is your place? I bet it’s pretty dry inside,” Steve hinted.
“Nah, I guess you could say I just work here.” Judd held a roll bar tightly and shook the Jeep. “Been leakin’ as long as I’ve known it.”
Steve nodded, awaiting an invitation inside. He casually put his hand in his pocket, surrounded by the sound of fat raindrops striking everything under the sky.
Judd looked up from the Jeep. “What year is it?”
“Uh . . . 2007,” Steve replied. “You know I think it’s raining harder now . . .”
“Makes it goin on . . .” Judd grabbed each of his fingertips. “I’ll be damned, I’ve been here goin’ on 95 years, now.”
Steve wiggled his pinky in his ear to drain the water out of it. “What did you say?”
The cowboy put his hands on his hips. “I was just remarking on how slowly time passes in my condition.”
“Your condition . . . are you pregnant or something?”
Judd didn’t laugh. “Are men giving birth these days?”
Steve couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something wrong with this guy.
“Well I appreciate the company, but I have a long, wet drive ahead of me. Do you know the quickest way to the freeway?”
“The what?” Judd asked, with his head cocked to the side. “Oh, the coachroad?”
“The road to Phoenix.” Steve replied.
“Where?”
“Phoenix. Phoenix, Arizona,” he clarified.
Judd shook his head. “I don’t reckon I’ve heard of it, pard’ner.”
“I wanna go that way,” Steve insisted, pointing to the horizon.
Judd turned to see where Steve was pointing then looked back. “Well then go that way.”
“You don’t understand; that’s where Phoenix is. I want to get to Tempe so I can go back to school.” Steve wiped water out of his eyes.
“There’s no Phoenix out there boy. Only thing between here and Prescott is Pumpkinville and the Hayden’s Ferry crossing—just a bunch of farms and Mexicans.”
“I’ve never heard of those places. How do I get to Phoenix or Arizona State University in Tempe?”
“Arizona State? You’re in Arizona Territory, son.” Judd cinched up his pants by a large buckle on his belt.
Steve sighed. “C’mon, is this some kind of joke?”
“Why, are you laughing?” Judd asked slowly.
“You’re one of those old west role players or re-enactors or something . . .”
“Old west? Yur not makin’ much sense boy.” Judd pulled the sides of his long dark coat behind his hips and hooked his thumbs in the corners of his pockets. “T’aint no wonder you’re lost. You’re confused.”
“ I’m confused? I took an off-road shortcut to get to ASU by sunup and ended up in the Twilight Zone. I know where I’ve been and where I want to go. You asked me what year it is and say you’ve never seen a Jeep before.”
Judd looked over his shoulder at Steve’s Jeep. “I like Isabel better,” he drawled, “but name ‘er what ya want.”
“You didn’t hear a word I just said did you?” Steve said quickly. He wrung out the bottom of his shirt.
“I heard it all, the only one I was interested in was ‘Jeep.’ Frankly none of it made much sense to me. You wanna get to ‘Ah-sue?’”
“Thank you, you’re the one that’s confused,” Steve said wearily.
“Well now hold on there, I think I can explain,” Judd said, raising his open palms. “I’ve got a bit of a secret.”
Steve squeezed the flashlight in anticipation of Judd’s revelation.
Judd dropped his hands. “I’m what ya call a specter.”
“That’s insane!”
“Tell me about it, boy. I can’t feel a thing. I’m neither tired nor rested, neither hungry nor sated, hot nor cold.” Judd shrugged. “I just am.”
Steve raised the flashlight above his head for protection. “No, I mean batshit-crazy, ass-raping insane, like that guy that painted pictures of clowns!” He paused and wondered if serial murderers could be treated like bullies in elementary school; he could play along and get out of there before Judd did something to hurt him, or he could try to fight. Never a fighter, Steve slowly moved towards his Jeep.
“I’m sorry, I’ve just never met a ghost before” he said, forcing an uneasy smile.
“Yeah that’s the word they used when I showed up here,” Judd nodded. “They called me a ghost; even took a few shots at me before dropping their iron in fear. All I wanted was some help, maybe an answer or two. Everyone ran off and I haven’t had anyone else to talk to since.”
“Until I showed up,” Steve said, taking a few steps back. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.
“Yeap. Nothing to do for ninety-five years except ruminate on my condition and wish things would change.”
Flushed with fear, Steve gave up keeping water off his face. He strained to appear agreeable while his knees threatened to give out. “That’s a uh, long time. What have you figured out?”
“Mostly that wishing doesn’t get you anywhere. A man has to act,” Judd replied pounding his fist into his hand. “Then I miss the little things I took for granted—feeling anything, even if it was bad. Every attempt I made to feel something just reminded me that I couldn’t, and that things were different for me now. I just gave up trying.”
Steve turned away from Judd and kicked his shoe into the mud casually. He was wound up tight, ready to fight for his life. He stepped closer to the Jeep and put his trembling hand in his pocket to get his keys.
Judd didn’t seem to notice. “Hey pard’ner, I reckon if that much time has passed, maybe the places we’re talkin’ about are the same places.”
“Could be, I’m sure a lot has changed in ninety-plus years.” The muscles on the back of Steve’s neck were so tense they ached.
“Well that’s just it; I’ve been here that long. It took me a spell to find this place. I spent a lot of time wandering.”
Steve nodded and took his keys from his pocket, careful not to make any noise. He crossed his arms to hide them gripped tightly in his palm. “What’s the last year you remember?”
“Spent a lot of time drunk, but the last year I remember is 1891.”
“That is a long time ago.” Steve stood by the spare tire on the back of his Jeep. He felt some relief that there was now an obstacle between him and the nutcase.
“So you say a lot has changed, boy?” Judd asked thoughtfully. “I wonder what all is different.”
“Everything,” Steve smiled, stepping to the driver’s side of his Jeep. He held onto a roll bar to ease his entry into the driver’s seat.
“Really! Everything?”
Steve nodded.
“I see you and Isabel packin up to leave, mind if I join ya? I wanna see that.”
Steve had hoped it was less obvious he was leaving. The thought of riding into oblivion with this monster turned his stomach. “See what?”
“Everything, pard’ner!” Judd walked over and leaned into Steve’s Jeep, as if to claim partial ownership.
“I tell you what,” Steve offered, “I’ll be passing this way tomorrow. I’ll pick you up when the storm is over. I don’t have a roof on this thing and it might start . . . raining.”
The cowboy looked into the sky and chuckled. “I’ll be damned; you know it’s raining now? You should have just walked inside the store.” He held his hand open and it quickly filled with water. “I tol’ ya I don’t feel nothin’—I had no idea.”
Steve mustered the courage needed to hop into the Jeep; it was a bold move and he wasn’t sure how Judd would take it. “Don’t worry about that, it’s just a little water,” he said. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Aw hell boy,” Judd said with the wave of his hand, “you can’t wait for the world to hand you anything, you gotta take it! Besides, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”
Steve steadied himself for his leap into the seat. “Yeah, that’s true. It’s only water though.”
Judd leaned further into the passenger side of the Jeep. “Clara didn’t have a roof on her, neither. Man’s not a man if he’s ‘fraid of getting a little wet, am I right?”
“Clara . . . your horse?”
Judd nodded enthusiastically. “See? You and I are just beginning to understand each other. C’mon boy, help me get out of here.” The cowboy gestured to the dilapidated shack. “Dammit to hell, look where I am.”
Water ran out of the seat when Steve sat in it. He fumbled with his keys and started the engine.
“Woooo boy listen to that noise!” Judd yelled. “Sounds like you’ve got a bear in there or somethin! This is gonna be fun!”
“Judd, I really have to be going . . .”
“Lemmie grab my hat!” Judd ran for the shop door and disappeared.
Steve seized the opportunity. He reversed his Jeep quickly and turned around. His tires spun on the slick mud and gravel as he floored the gas pedal. The Jeep fishtailed but roared between the cactus and desert bushes.
Steve looked into his rearview mirror. The old shop glowed red from his taillights then disappeared into the darkness behind him. A wave of warm relief washed over him.
“What the fuck!” Steve shouted over his engine. “That was crazy!” He laughed into the rain. “That was like some shit out of Deliverance!” He accelerated to put as much distance between him and Judd as possible.
“Woooooooo hoooooooo!” Judd shouted from the passenger seat. “I’d always wondered if I could do that!”
Steve screamed. “What the hell? How did you . . .” He struggled to keep driving.
“I’ve seen a few of these motorized buggies on the coachroad and wondered if I could ride in them!”
“I left you back there,” Steve said, “you were in the store . . .” He wondered how much more strain his heart could take.
“Yeah I know, you were in a hurry to get back to Pumpkinville or someplace, it’s understandable.”
Steve shook his head and gripped the steering wheel in frightened frustration. “You’re really creeping me out, man.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I know that tone. I thought we understood each other, pard’ner. You’re the only friend I’ve had in a hundred years.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve began. “No, I’m not sorry—I left you there, and here you are. You need to get out of my fuckin’ Jeep!”
“Is it my appearance? I can change that. You won’t even see me!”
Steve looked at the empty passenger seat and sighed in relief. He looked in the rearview mirror expecting to see Judd tumbling in the desert behind him.
“Is that better?” Judd asked.
Steve slammed on the brakes and skidded to a muddy stop. “Where are you? What the fuck is going on?”
Judd reappeared in the passenger seat. “I thought you understood. I’m a ghost.”
Adrenaline surged through Steve’s body. “You can’t be a ghost, there’s no such thing!”
“Well here I am, how else do you explain it?”
Steve took a deep breath. “I must be hallucinating or something. The fear is clouding my judgment. You’re a figment of my imagination.”
“I don’t understand your ten dollar words, son, what do you mean, figmet?”
“ Figment. I’m just making you up in my mind.” Steve shook his head. “You don’t exist outside of my mind,” he insisted.
Judd thought for a moment. “Well if that’s the case I have to go with you to Pumpkinville.”
“No you need to get out,” Steve said tersely.
“Out of your mind? How can I do that? Don’t I go where your mind goes?”
Steve slumped on the steering wheel. He was frustrated and shaking badly, but he couldn’t argue with Judd’s logic. “I need some serious help. I’m miles from any help!”
“I can help you pard’ner, we’re friends, trailbuddies.” Judd leaned uncomfortably close to Steve. “Do you need some help directin’ Isabel?”
“No.”
“Do ‘lucinations steer motor coaches these days?”
Steve shifted back into first gear and began to roll, resigned to pressing on. “No they don’t.”
Judd sat back in his seat. “What do figmets do in the modern age?”
“The word is ‘fig-ment,’ and they don’t drive, that’s for sure.”
“Do ghosts?”
“You’re not driving, Judd.”
Review item
Add to faves
Ratings & Rankings
