Chasing Destiny
by G. Allen Wilbanks
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3, 4 |
part 3
Nate sat in the passenger seat, lost in his own thoughts. Laura drove in silence for several minutes, perhaps out of apology for touching on the painful subject of Nate’s brother, or perhaps just from loss of what to say to the subdued man riding in the car with her.
Unaware of Laura’s current discomfort and probably unable to generate much sympathy even if he had known, Nate gazed vacantly out at the asphalt of the highway as the car reeled in mile after mile. Exit signs slipped past unnoticed, announcing roads into the city of Galt: Simmerhorn Road, Central Galt, Fairway.
Concrete barriers separating south-bound freeway traffic from north-bound cars gave way to dirt dividers planted with blooming Oleander bushes. The cars traveling in the opposite direction were still shielded from view, but bare cement walls were now replaced with lush bursts of purple, pink, and white on a thriving green canvass. The Oleander proudly displayed its rainbow of flowers to a mostly uncaring and unappreciative audience.
A small green sign, announcing that they were crossing the San Juaquin County line, flashed by on the west shoulder of the freeway. The sign caught Nate’s attention and briefly shook him out of his morbid reverie. It would not be much longer.
He checked his watch again. The hands on the dial indicated it was 10:53 a.m. He was so close.
Nate looked over at Laura. She noticed his glance and smiled.
“Welcome back to the real world.” Her smile faltered a bit and she added, “I’m sorry if I brought back some bad memories. Tell you what, why don’t you pick the topic for our next conversation.”
“It was very nice of you to give me a lift,” said Nate, lamely.
“We already covered this area,” she answered with a giggle. “You paid for the gas, so I guess that makes us even on the ‘nice’ scale.”
Nate looked out the passenger side window. A vast expanse of grapevines was visible through a wall of oak trees and wire fencing. The vines seemed to cover the entire area within his view, and Nate let himself imagine for a moment that the whole world was covered with sprawling plants and nothing more. He told himself that if he kept looking, no matter how far they drove or for how long, he would only see grapevines.
“Uh-uh, sorry,” Laura interrupted him. “Don’t disappear on me again. I may not be the most exciting person in the world, but I like to think I could hold someone’s attention for more than three seconds. Unless of course, you see something really fascinating out there in the vineyard. In which case, please let me know what so I can share the wonder.”
Her tone was mild, and she had that sweet smile on her face, so Nate knew there was no malice in her words. He shrugged his shoulders ruefully. “No, there’s nothing there but some vines and probably a few of those bugs, whatever you call ’em. Glassy-winged something or other.”
“Sharpshooters?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Sharpshooters. I understand they’re supposed to be killing the grape industry around here.”
Laura waved a hand through the air, dismissing the idea. “Oh, I’m sure the grape growers are fine. They’re probably working on a new poison that will kill the bugs off without any problem. Of course, the same poison will probably kill off the birds and wildlife, too. And maybe cause cancer in a few thousand people, but hey,” she nodded her head resolutely as though this scenario were unavoidable, “that’s okay so long as I have my wine at night so I can get drunk after a hard day at work.”
“Wow! That’s a bit pessimistic.”
“Not really. It wouldn’t be the first time that innocent people have been knowingly dropped into harm’s way so someone else can benefit from it.”
Nate swallowed a hard lump in his throat and hastily turned his face away from Laura. She couldn’t possibly know, he assured himself, but still the guilt began to surface.
An internal war waged inside Nate. He almost decided to tell Laura why he was hitching this particular ride to Stockton, but he clamped down on the impulse. He eased his discomfort by telling himself that he was not the cause of any of this. It was already fated to happen, and he had only bought himself a ticket to share in the ride. He was not actually hurting anyone, and this game was going to play out whether he was part of it or not.
It wasn’t his fault. Maybe it wasn’t exactly fair, but then when had life ever been fair?
The blare of a siren startled Nate, and he felt the car rock slightly from the air flow of another vehicle passing them at high speed. A black and white Dodge Charger rushed by them in the lane to their left. As the Charger raced ahead of them, Nate could read “Highway Patrol” written in white block letters across the trunk, and the rapid-fire flash of red and blue lights announced that there was somewhere the officer needed to be in a hurry.
As Nate watched the emergency vehicle grow smaller in the distance ahead of them, a memory of another police officer came to him unexpectedly. He pushed back against the unwelcome flood of images, but it was no use. The memory was too recent; the emotions still too raw. Nate closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
* * *
Two officers stood on Nate’s porch talking quietly to one another. When he opened the door, they immediately stopped their discussion. They were both slender, tall and handsome, looking like actors in a recruitment video for law enforcement. Their uniforms were immaculate, and their expressions were sympathetic but professional.
Nate did not need any type of gift to see that he was being notified of some very bad news. “Yes?” he asked, but his heart had already turned to stone in his chest.
“Mr. Praeter?” asked the man on Nate’s left. “Are you married to Donna Praeter?”
“Yes,” he answered. The word barely came out in a whisper as his throat closed up painfully.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Praeter. We have some bad news for you, sir. Your wife was involved in a traffic accident.” The officer waited a moment in case Nate felt the need to interrupt or ask a question. When Nate merely stood mute, he continued. “A kid delivering pizzas ran a red light and struck your wife’s car in the intersection. He was driving extremely fast and hit her car on the driver’s side door. She was killed in the collision.
“The paramedics got there immediately, but it was too late for them to do anything for her.”
Nate felt as though he needed to sit down. Or better yet, lie down right there in the doorway and never get up again. Lie there until his body finally just stopped working from lack of food, sleep, or water. Instead he remained on his feet, clinging to the edge of the door. “Do I...” He choked, cleared his throat and tried again. “Do I need to identify her body?”
“No, sir,” the officer responded. “There’s no need. The coroner will contact you when he is ready to release her, and you can make whatever arrangements you wish with him to take care of the body.”
The officer’s partner now spoke softly. “If it helps, Mr. Praeter, she died very quickly. She was not in any pain.”
Nate could only nod as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He closed the door without another word to the officers, although what he really wanted to do was scream at the blue-shirted bastard that his little piece of information did not help. It did not help one goddamned bit.
* * *
“I lost you again. Boy, I must be really losing my touch.”
“No, it’s not you.” Nate swiped a hand across his cheek and gratefully noted that it was still dry. “I just have a lot on my mind today.”
“From the looks of it, it isn’t all good stuff.” Laura shook her head quickly, indicating he shouldn’t answer. “It’s not my business. Didn’t mean to pry.”
Laura reached out her hand. This time she did not stop herself, but allowed her fingers to brush his shoulder. There was nothing seductive or premeditated in her actions. It was a light, comforting gesture, with nothing more behind it than one human being reaching out to another in distress. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen. But it’s okay if you’d rather be quiet, too.”
Nate made an abysmal attempt at another smile. “I’m not sure I really want to start that particular pity party. But thanks.”
“Tell you what,” announced Laura brightly, trying to break the somber mood in the car, “I am really early for my interview and I was planning on getting something to eat before I went anyway. Do you want to join me for lunch? There is an awesome little chicken place just about two exits further up. I’ve eaten there a couple times. The food is excellent.”
Nate looked at his watch. 11:03 a.m. A sudden jolt of adrenaline jump-started his heart into high gear. “Um, no, thank you,” he blurted. “I’d rather just keep going. We’re almost there.”
“Are you sure? I’m buying.”
“I’m sure. Please, just keep driving.”
Laura had clicked her right turn signal-light on and was looking over her shoulder to change lanes in preparation for her exit. To Nate’s immense relief, she turned off her blinker and remained in the fast lane of the freeway.
“Okay,” Laura replied with a disappointed little frown. “I was looking forward to some of their chicken, but I guess I can always stop on my way back and have a late lunch.”
She turned to face Nate once more and the smile was back on her face. To Nate, her smile felt like the sun breaking out from behind a curtain of rain clouds.
An exit sign for Armstrong Road passed on the roadway median, standing amidst the flimsy barrier of Oleander bushes. The poisonous plants hemmed in the right side of the highway as well in this area, isolating the three lanes of traffic inside walls of green and pink. The road began to look very familiar to Nate.
Acid burned in Nate’s stomach, and he suddenly had the urge to vomit. An unwelcome thought beat its way out of his subconscious and began to sound big, painful alarm bells, telling him that all his careful justifications for coming this far had just collapsed.
Laura wanted to stop for lunch. Nate had talked her out of it.
Nate could no longer claim to merely be along for the ride on the maiden voyage of this Titanic. He had just put the iceberg in the water. If he had not been in the car with her, Laura would be safely dining in a restaurant in a few minutes, but he had kept her on course for his own personal needs.
He was more than just a passenger. He was now a participant, and worse, perhaps even the sole cause of events that would soon unravel.
His watch told him it was 11:05. He only needed to sit still for one more minute and it would be done. The loss, the pain, the guilt, all of it would be gone. In life there were casualties. What was one more in the grand scheme of things?
“Damn. This lady is really riding my tail.” Laura was staring intently into her rearview mirror.
“What?” asked Nate. He felt too warm and confined inside the car. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and he wiped at it with the palm of his hand.
“There’s a lady in a Volkswagen behind us and she’s tailgating like she was tied to my back bumper.”
“Are you going to pull over and let her pass?” asked Nate, already knowing what her answer would be.
“No. She’s in such a hurry, let her go around me. I’m not moving out of this lane.”
“Hammer Lane,” he whispered.
Another green sign advertising an exit for Hammer Lane approached and flashed past their car. Nate reached across the interior of the car and grabbed the steering wheel. He jerked the wheel right, sending the car careening across all three lanes of the freeway.
* * *
Copyright © 2018 by G. Allen Wilbanks
