Glitch, page 11
"Let's just go."
After a pause, he responded, "Go where?"
"Just go. Please."
As Ike started up the Lincoln, the girl shut the passenger side door.
Putting the car in second gear, Ike stepped on the gas, and the Lincoln jumped from its parking spot quicker than you could imagine. And though the car didn't come close the hitting any other vehicles on that street, Ike was lucky that the cops at the police station didn't notice or respond to that black car as it roared past them. Nor did they see the white fast food bag flying out the driver's side window of that car as it continued down that avenue.
* * *
Taking the highway south by southwest, the town soon became a memory. But what Ike wanted most to leave was still in the car beside him. And after driving for about 28 minutes in agonizing silence, his frustration was ready to make him pop.
Slowing down, Ike brought the Lincoln to a stop by the side of that two-lane highway. Still gripping the steering wheel, he refused to look at the girl or say a word to her. His heavy breathing was the only noise either of them heard.
Opening the door, Ike got out.
Slowly turning her head, Sandra glanced over at Ike, who merely stood by the open car door. She could sense his extreme annoyance; it came off him like a bad smell, so she didn't tempt fate by opening her mouth.
Ike looked up and down that empty highway, but he wasn't admiring the barrenness. Nor did he take notice of the brown and green scrub grass littering their surroundings.
Taking a step away from the car, Ike turned towards the front of the Lincoln. He instantly swung towards the vehicle's rear but immediately turned towards the car's front again. And as Sandra watched him do that once more, it looked as if he was walking in the tightest circle in the world.
Finally, pointing towards the way they came, Ike walked, but he didn't go far. Then, stopping a few steps past the car's rear, he tipped his head back, and a humongous yell exploded from his mouth.
Hearing it caused Sandra to bounce in her seat, and it wasn't just the scream that startled her. Instead, the sound reminded her of her mother when she got fed up. And yet, as her heart sank into a well of apprehension, Sandra forced her feet to move.
Jumping from the car, she quickly headed to the rear of the Lincoln. But as soon as Ike came into view, Sandra stopped at the rear bumper. And in that instant, the girl blurted out exactly what she was thinking.
"I hope you're not too mad?" she says.
Whirling around, Ike shouts, "What do you want from me?"
Hearing the belligerence in his voice, the girl instantly wondered if she was making a terrible mistake.
But then, she shouts back in a tone that is almost pleading.
"I... I want you to take me with you."
Ignoring the girl's mood, Ike shakes his right index finger at her as he yells, "You don't even know where I'm goin'."
Undeterred by his anger, the girl then clues Ike in on the motive behind all of this.
"I don't care. I just don't wanna go back," Sandra says.
Like a big, stinky fart, the girl's motivation was out in the open, and Ike just couldn't grasp it.
Dipping his head and grabbing it with both hands, disbelief leaped from his mouth.
"I don't fuckin' believe this!" Ike screamed.
Looking up at the girl, Ike didn't know what was behind her actions, but he knew he had to stop it before it went any further.
Watching Ike march over towards her and seeing the rage gripping his face, Sandra thought she did make a terrible mistake.
As he stopped right in front of her, Sandra threw her arms up like she was about to catch a ball, but it was a reflex reaction. She instantly thought the man who saved her was about to beat her senseless.
But Ike didn't put his hands on her. Instead, he pointed his right index finger dead at her nose as he shouted, "What's the matter with you, girl? Are you stupid? Did you think for even a second I could be a really dangerous criminal that would kill you and dump you in the desert to make a clean getaway?"
Sandra should be in fear for her life, but strangely, she wasn't. Ignoring the rapid thumping of her heart, Sandra refused to lose faith in the man who saved her; the reason was simple. What he said to her wasn't a threat but a rhetorical question.
"No!" She spouted with weird confidence and nervousness. But she instantly realized answering Ike's question this way sounded stupid.
With a quick shake of her head, Sandra swiftly added, "what I mean is... A bad man wouldn't have stopped to save me."
"Stopped!" He uttered.
Slapping his bald head with his left hand, Ike didn't believe what was coming from the girl's mouth. He then attempts to set her straight.
With his hands quite animated, Ike quickly gestured at the car as he said, "I ended up running off the road tryin' not to hit you."
Bulletproof to his explanations, the girl went on, "Exactly! A bad man would've just kept going. He wouldn't have done all those things for me afterward — And, And...."
"And what?" Ike barked as he put his right hand on his hip.
In a tone that had a lot less anxiousness, Sandra answered him.
"A guy who wasn't so bad wouldn't undo all those things by hurting me," she says with complete earnestness.
Ike's mouth immediately popped open, but nothing came out. And his features, which looked like an angry ogre to the girl just seconds ago, softened.
Taking two steps back, Ike slumped against the left rear edge of the Lincoln Continental. Doing a 180-degree turn, Ike faced the highway. He then felt his legs slowly folding underneath him. With his butt firmly planted in the yellow dirt by the side of the road and his back against the left rear fender, disbelief quickly washed over his face. He couldn't believe what had just happened.
Somehow this 15-year-old girl had read him way too well, figuring out he was no thug. Even though he thought he was doing a good De Niro imitation, thanks to all the Scorsese films he had seen over the years.
And to make matters worse, he apparently couldn't read this girl. Ike always considered himself a good judge of character, but this girl somehow flew under his radar. He should've known something was wrong with Sandra's lack of urgency in contacting her family, especially after he confirmed she was a kidnapped victim.
And now that everything is out in the open, he is out of ideas on what to do.
Almost as if she was tiptoeing, Sandra quietly crept up to the edge of the car. Looking down at Ike's bald head, Sandra wondered what he could be thinking. And though he was utterly silent, her anxiety over what he might do entirely evaporated.
Knowing she screwed up his getaway plans, Sandra considered putting a hand on his shoulder in some half-ass attempt to soothe his anger; but she decided against it.
As Ike stared into space, Sandra slowly leaned over the fender. Her long hair then rolled forward off her back and shoulders, flapping like a big, dark flag in front of him.
While their faces were close, they didn't make eye contact.
She says, almost sheepishly, "Um, can we go now?"
***
On the highway at twilight, the day was swiftly disappearing in front of their eyes. The lemon-yellow sun had just fallen below the horizon, and the sky ahead of them had primarily turned azure blue and purple. And the rolling hills that marked the fringes of the terrain looked like mammoth coals of a dying fire, their colors a mix of brick red and chestnut.
Feeling weary behind the wheel, Ike glanced at the girl as she rested in her seat. Her droopy eyes focused out the windshield. But Ike could tell she was probably not looking at anything in particular since he presumed she felt as fatigued as he did.
He could turn on the radio, but he didn't think it was probable to find a decent rock station here in the desert.
When the robbery crew planned to exit the state by driving, Ike didn't think about the possibility of spending monotonous hours behind the wheel with no tunes.
If he had, he definitely would have brought along some CDs by Roxy Music, Radiohead, The Smashing Pumpkins, and without question, Mr. David Bowie: A guy whose music he first fell in love with as a kid. And after all these decades, from Man Who Sold the World, Ziggy Stardust, Young Americans, The Lodger, Lets Dance, Tin Machine, and all the rest, Bowie is Ike's number one artist because the man just doesn't get old.
Ike grumbled at the thought of not having Bowie to listen to, but there was not much he could do about that now.
Glancing over at the girl again, Ike thought some stimulating conversation could substitute for music. Because there was something he had been wondering about since they left the motel. And he figured what's the point of waiting any further to get answers.
"Sandra!" He calls to her, but the girl sits unresponsive and almost lifeless.
Reaching out with his right arm, Ike grabs her shoulder and gives it a good shake.
"Hey, Sandra!" he shouts.
That did the trick as the girl stirred. Sandra snorted before turning to him.
"Huh, what? What is it?" she said with grogginess in her eyes and voice.
"There's something I'm curious about — How long have you been drinking?"
The question completely surprised the girl, like being slapped in the face with a wet frying pan. So much so she was utterly mum, unable to respond. Glancing over at the girl and seeing her raised eyebrows and open mouth, Ike rightly figured that such a question shocked her. And he presumed that the reason was that she could be a so-called sneak drinker. It's a phenomenon Ike learned about from the TV news that people who appear to be non-drinkers are just the opposite, but they do so secretly.
Sandra's lips finally moved, but what came out sounded almost like a mumble.
"I... How — How did you know?" She uttered.
"I got a whiff of it when we first met," Ike responded. "But I let it slide because — you were a mess, so I thought it was just something on your clothes. But then I smelled it again before we left the motel. And Willie, the manager, mentioned that there was a minibar in the room, and it finally made sense."
Turning away from him, Sandra was incredibly embarrassed. She couldn't believe the man who saved her life figured out in one day something she had kept hidden from her mother for years.
Glancing back at him, she declared defiantly, "Well, I'm not a drunk."
"I didn't say you were," he shot back.
Ike didn't believe her for a nanosecond, but he made a little confession of his own.
"At first, I thought you were gonna deny it because I've also had problems with the bottle," he says. "back then, I could hide it pretty well. I would use mouthwash, toothpaste, baking soda."
"Baking soda!" she exclaimed.
Turning to him, Sandra furrowed her eyebrows. Then, she quickly uttered, "How?"
"Simple," he continued with a nod of the head. "Just mix it with vinegar and gargle; it's a great deodorizer."
"Well, I don't have a drinking problem," Sandra declared, using slightly different language.
"Well, whether you're a wino, 15-year-olds like yourself shouldn't be drinking."
Surprise splashed across Sandra's face as if Ike had hit her with a wet frying pan again.
Catching sight of that, Ike says, "Wondering how I knew your real age? Let's just say you're not the only one around here who knows how to snoop."
Glancing over at Sandra, He gave her a quick smirk.
* * *
The Lincoln sat underneath the corroded metal, Y-shaped canopy of a deserted rest stop. Alone in the car, Sandra pressed the buttons on the radio tuner, but she didn't dig what was coming through the speakers. So finally, giving up searching for something to break the silence, the girl switched the radio off.
Apparently, out in the middle of nowhere, only country-western music, and Christian channels were on the dial.
And yet, what Sandra could hear on the radio back in her hometown was only great if you are a classic rock fan. But she can't get into Kiss, Guns N' Roses, and U2, some of her mom's favorite bands. And despite her mom absolutely loving Aerosmith, Sandra can't stand them because its lead singer Steven Tyler is so damn ugly.
Because of this lack of choice, Sandra is grateful that Internet radio exists. Otherwise, she never would've discovered Muse, Coldplay, Keane, M83, Ulrich Schnauss, and especially Sigur Rós: A band she likes. However, they sing in a weird form of Icelandic that the group calls hopelandic.
Peering up through the rider's side window and beyond the rest stop canopy, Sandra saw that star-filled night above, and it looked so humongous and scary that she thought it could swallow up the entire world.
At that moment, Sandra wished she had her phone since it had Sigur Rós' entire discography stored on its circuits. Then, she could lay back, plug in her headphones, and zone out.
Looking out the driver's side window, she sees Ike returning from the Happy Hunting Grill. The 1950s-era fast-food spot, planted next door to the rest stop, had a faded and rust-stained sign on the roof showing horse-mounted Indians hunting buffalos with arrows.
Popping open the door, Ike had a pair of brown paper bags. Once behind the steering wheel, he planted one on the floor between his feet. The other landed between himself and the girl.
As Ike pulled a pair of Styrofoam cups from the bag on the floor, the girl looked in the other food bag. Being hit with that fast food smell, Sandra found it enticing. And while it didn't smell as good as the stuff from the Golden Star, she was ready for anything.
Sticking a straw in one cup, he handed it to the girl. Ike then says, "I got an orange soda. Is that ok with you?"
Grabbing that cup, she replied, "Is it diet?"
"I didn't ask," Ike confessed his ignorance. "Is that gonna be a problem?"
The girl didn't answer as she sucked on that straw.
Tasting its sweetness, Sandra figured on the spot that the soda was not diet.
Sandra instantly recalled that at home, Karl and her mom only allowed her to have weird healthy stuff to drink, like Vitamin Water and La Croix, which taste like diluted soda.
"So it's ok?" He asked.
Nodding her head, she uttered, "It's fine."
Sandra knows Karl would freak out if he caught her drinking something like this. A slight smile appeared on her face at the thought of that as she sucked on that straw again.
As Ike pulled out a burger from the other bag, Sandra put her drink between her legs. The sight of this caused Ike to reveal some hidden amenities of the Lincoln.
He opened a small compartment below the radio and AC controls, revealing a double cup holder.
"Use that instead," Ike said to her.
With no further prompting, the girl immediately followed his advice. It's good she did so because Ike felt the last thing he needed was the girl spilling soda all over the car the way he used to as a kid.
Getting her sandwich, the girl didn't hold back as she pulled open its white paper wrapping and took a bite. Sandra then realized that the smell was the only good thing about this burger.
With the slight sourness of freezer burns, the girl felt like she was chewing on a big wad of paper than a piece of meat.
Sandra swallowed that bite, but a frown appeared as she felt that lump going down her throat.
"Ike," she spoke up. "My burger tastes weird. What about you?"
Getting his bite down with a bit of soda, Ike says, "yeah."
Looking down at his sandwich and the pink in the meat patty, he says, "the menu said it's supposed to be buffalo."
"Isn't buffalo an endangered species?" She said with a quick squint of the eyes.
With that freezer-burn taste in his mouth, Ike replied, "I think we're the endangered species if we keep tryin' to eat these things."
As Ike stuffed their sandwiches back into that fast food bag, Sandra's lips twisted until they looked almost like a smirk. She wasn't laughing; it was merely her reaction to having her mouth messed up by those inedible burgers.
Pulling out a red and white checkered paper boat filled with light-brown French fries, Ike gave it to the girl. As he pulled out a second one for himself, Sandra immediately took a bunch of those potatoes and stuffed them into her mouth.
The girl's face immediately mimicked what happened when she took her first bite of that hamburger.
The flavor of those potatoes mimicked that of the sandwich: a combination of staleness and paper.
When she got the potatoes down her throat, Sandra smacked her lips, but not in a good way.
"What kind of French fries are these?" She asked.
Ike didn't answer because his mouth was now full of French fries. But looking over at the girl, his expression seemed to say what she already knew; these things were god-awful.
Forcing down what he had in his mouth with a bit of soda, Ike finally spoke up.
"Damn! I tasted this crap before."
Looking over at her, Ike quickly added, "You probably never heard of freeze-dried potatoes, have you?"
"Freeze-dried!" Sandra uttered. "What's that?"
"Something that's not fit for people, that's for sure."
Ike follows that up by saying, "when I was a kid, my mom went to see her family and left dad and me at home for a week. And my dad made freeze-dried potatoes every day. Some powder shit in a box that's supposed to turn into mashed potatoes when mixed with water. I was so happy when mom came back home because that was the worst stuff you never want to eat."
Picking up some of those potatoes, Ike went on, "I never thought they could make this crap in French fry form." He then tossed those potatoes back into the paper boat.
Ike then tossed those French fries back into the paper bag with a quick shake of his head. Then, taking another sip of his soft drink, he said, "well, at least the soda isn't poisoned."
As Ike continued to sip his soda, Sandra looked down at those French fries in her lap. She thought maybe lots of ketchup could make these things less disgusting. Picking up one, she looked at it and decided against forcing any more down her food hole.
Dropping that French fry back into that paper boat, she copied Ike by taking the whole damn thing and tossing it into the paper bag.
