“So the accident I saw earlier tonight—”
“—the occurrence, Driver, the occurrence. There are no accidents.”
“Fine—the occurrence I saw earlier, all of those people were predetermined to be in that place at that time since the moment of their birth?”
“Yes.”
Something clicked in my head at that moment. It wasn’t any kind of epiphany, not even close. I once read a line in novel that went something like, “There comes a time when the human mind can no longer deal with the amount of horror being heaped upon it, and so it all starts to become kind of funny.” That’s what happened to me at that moment: some small part of the rational area of my mind clicked off and all of this became oddly surreal. I went with, and continued eating throughout the rest of our conversation, eventually finishing every bite of Nova’s delicious dinner.
“So if someone’s number is put back into the order, what happens if it turns out that number has already come and gone?”
Daddy Bliss grinned. “They are sacrificed immediately. If we are well past the point in the order where that number should have fallen, the very next time they climb into an automobile, they will not emerge from it alive. It causes a little extra bookkeeping for us, but it’s a small price to pay for keeping the Road satisfied.”
I gobbled down the second half of the roll. “So how is it that the Road came to dictate all of this?”
He stared at me for a moment. “You’re really a much more perceptive fellow than you give yourself credit for, Driver. You’ve asked a surprising amount of insightful questions this evening. One would not expect that from a person who holds your station in life.” “I’m guessing that was meant to be a compliment?” “It was.” “Then thank you. Now would you mind answering my most recent insightful question?” “Ah, yes…the ‘how’ of it all.
“Even in the midst of death, dear boy, life resonates. It seethes, trapped, waiting to be given release, to be given form. You’ve been in jail, Driver, you must have some idea to what I’m referring. You’ve been in a cell where the massed feelings of hatred, deprivation, claustrophobia, and brutalization have seeped into the very stones. One can feel it. The emotions resonate. It is the same when someone dies on the Road. That energy spills from their mangled bodies and is absorbed by the Road. And when a place or thing absorbs the resonating sentience of enough life, it’s only a matter of time before it achieves sentience itself. That’s why one can sense the despair emanating from the walls of a jail cell, or why you felt the death seeping from every corner of the Leonard house all those years ago. It’s not so much an unnatural phenomenon as it is what a physicist might deem an ‘unconscious confluence’ of resonating energies. That is how the Road came into full being.” I nodded my head. “Okay.” “That’s all? ‘Okay’? Just like that?” “Just like that.”
He blinked. “How utterly intriguing.” He looked once more at the clock. “Have you anything further you’d like to discuss with me?”
I finished with the first pork chop and began carving up the second one, my mouth watering. “Do I have a number?”
“No, you do not. You were not deemed an acceptable sacrifice. You were, however, of interest to the Road, and so you were watched.” He moved his chair closer to me. “I will tell you that your friend Barbara Greer does have a number, as do several of the employees on your crew. And your ex-wife.” I almost couldn’t swallow the food, but managed to force it down. “Why tell me this?” “Because if the Road decides about you as I think it will, you might find this information to be helpful.” “Helpful how?” He shook his head. “Cart before the horse, and all that. We’ll see if I am correct, and then proceed from there.”
There was a knock on the door, and a moment later Ciera entered, carrying a phone. “It’s time, Daddy. The Highway People are gathering.”
I looked at him. “So the jury’s coming in, is that it?”
“Indeed.” He maneuvered the chair around and started toward the opened door. “You and I may not have any further time alone after this, Driver, so allow me to say that it has been a genuine pleasure getting to know you. The Road has chosen wisely with you.” “Thanks, I guess.” “You’re welcome, perhaps.” And with that, he rolled out the door and was gone. “Did you two have a nice talk?” asked Ciera as she plugged the phone into the jack on the wall. “It was very…informative.” “Cool.” She set down the phone next to me and began to leave. “Wait a second.”
She turned back. “You need a refill on the root beer? We’ve got plenty.” She giggled. “I had some earlier, though I wasn’t supposed to—we got it just for you. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No. What I do mind is this.” I held up the phone and turned it toward her. It had no number keys. “What about it?” she asked. “How am I supposed to make a call when I can’t punch in or dial the number?”
She smiled. “Operators are standing by.” Then she laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to say that in real life but never got the chance. Just pick up the receiver when you’re ready and your call will be put through. You’ve got about fifteen or twenty minutes now. I’ll be back for you soon.” She blew me a kiss and began closing the door behind her, then stopped and said, “Listen, it’d be a good idea if you didn’t try to leave this room until I come back. When the Highway People call for a gathering like this, things become a bit…well, for you, anyway…things would be kind of confusing.”
“In what way?”
She thought about this for a minute, and as she did, I caught a glimpse of the young girl she’d once been, one who was now searching for a way to express in words something for which her previous life-experience had given her no point of reference. She looked almost…innocent. If I’d been a couple of decades younger, the look on her face would have really turned me on; now it just me feel sad and old.
Finally she said: “You ever wake up from a dream in the middle of the night and for a couple of seconds you’re, like, not sure whether you’re awake in your own bed or still in the dream? Some parts of the dream are so fresh in your memory that you can still see them, and for a couple of seconds it’s like the dream and the real world are the same thing, only you can’t tell which is which? Like you’re looking at a double-exposed photograph. Does that make sense?”
I nodded. “Sure does.”
“Well, if you leave this room on your own, that’s what everything’s going to seem like to you. You won’t be able to tell what’s real and what isn’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Because part of what holds this all together is everyone being here and doing their jobs, living their lives. But when the Highway People call for a gathering and everyone leaves their posts, there’s, like, no glue, right? Things start to…come apart, change, whatever. But when we come back, it all snaps back into place. That’s because we know what it’s all supposed to be like. You don’t, so everything would look real screwed-up to you, and you’d get lost in a hurry, and I don’t think we could find you again.”
I looked around the holding room. “Is that why this room is so bare? So it would be easy for me to remember what it looked like?”
“Yeah. We move around a lot—the town, I mean—and we move pretty fast. Fast like” —she snapped her fingers— “that. So it’s important that you stay here in this room you know so you don’t get lost in the empty places.” She gave me a sweet, slightly melancholy look, blew me another kiss, and left.
I expected her to lock the door behind her to make sure I’d stay right where I was supposed to, but she didn’t. She trusted me. Not that it mattered; I couldn’t have found my way out of town on my own. I could maybe get myself as far as the gas station, but that’d be about it.
So I finished Nova’s superb dinner, sat back in my chair, and stared at the phone, wondering who I knew who wouldn’t hang up on me for calling at this hour. Maybe Brennert, but what could I tell him? Barbara Greer might not get too upset, but if she were being watched, a call from me would only draw more attention to her.