Who Moves Underneath It? 
 

      “Ah, Neil Young. Sing to me.” It was Bob Dylan, but he would never know it.

      “One more cup of coffee for the road…One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go…

      To the valley below.”

      Jesse drove 85 as he passed sign after sign that read 30. The heat was on, and as it got colder and colder outside that car, it got cozier and cozier inside. Jesse grabbed his soda from the cup-holder, but the paper cup with the lid and straw was empty except for some melting ice. He threw the empty cup in the backseat with the bag from his fast-food lunch. Jesse looked behind his steering wheel at the gas gauge.

      “Jesus!” He needed to get gas. It was dark and there were no street lights out there. He knew there was a gas station coming up…unless he had passed it. He leaned forward in his seat and squinted his eyes, trying to see farther ahead than his headlights revealed.

      “Thank Jesus!” he whispered to himself. He hadn’t passed it. Jesse pulled into the little gas station and drove slowly up to one of the pumps. He turned his car off and without taking the keys out of the car, or locking his door, he got out and walked up to the attendant.

      “Hey there!” Jesse yelled.

      The attendant seemed shocked. He was a young boy, about 20 years old. He looked a lot younger than Jesse. He sat behind Plexiglas, in a corner of the tiny convenience store, reading a book. “Hey. What do you need?”

      “Oh, just to fill the old tank up.” Jesse handed the kid two twenties and gave him a wink, as he looked at his reflection in the glass. He tilted his chin up and turned his head to the side. He put his hand through his black hair. There was a spot of gray that he had missed. Jesse frowned at himself, but then remembered the kid and put a smile back on. “You know, it’s lucky you’re out here. This place is really a savior. I bet you guys don’t make much business. Do you make much business? But I bet when you do make business, your customers are pretty desperate for you. Is that right? The few customers you get, I mean. Do they usually need something pretty badly?”

      The kid stared for a couple seconds at Jesse’s old, brown coat. “Uh, yeah, I guess. People usually thank me a bunch for being here. Well, they thank God for me being here anyway. I mean, they’re usually like you—a gas gauge reading empty and someplace to be by tomorrow. But we really don’t get much business at all out here.”

      “What book you reading?” Jesse hunched over, so he could look the kid in the eyes behind the Plexiglas.

      “Great Expectations.”

      “That book’s got a lot of bad in it. A lot of good, too, of course, but sad, sad, sad badness underneath it.”

      “Yeah. It sucks that like his parents are dead and stuff, I guess.” The kid rolled his eyes. “Your pump is ready.”

      Jesse walked back over to his car and pumped his gas, watching one set of numbers quickly run to $40.00 and the other set slowly climb to 14 gallons. It must have been twenty degrees out there. Jesse put his hands in his pockets and whistled. His whistling turned into humming, and soon, he was singing to himself.

      “Your breath is sweet, your eyes are like two jewels in the sky…your back is straight, your hair is smooth, on the pillow where you lie…” Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes narrowed, trying to make out a dark shape on the other side of the gas station. The shape got up and walked into the light. It was a guy, not much older than the attendant kid, carrying a big, orange duffle bag.

      “Hey, uh, sir,” the shape said, oddly loudly.

      “Yeah. What are you doing sitting over there in the night like that?”

      “Uh, well, I’m waiting for a ride. Do you think…?”

      “I’m goin’ South, kid. All the way, pretty much. I’d be happy to give you a lift, if you’re goin’ that way.”

      And so Jesse walked up to the guy, grabbed his duffle bag and put it in the trunk. The two men got in the car and Jesse turned on the heat.

      “Thanks, man. My name’s Keaton.”

      “No problem, Keaton. I’m Jesse.” Jesse paused for a moment. “Keaton? What’s that come from?”

      “I dunno. My parents thought it was cool, I guess.”

      “Some people are just nuts, huh? You can’t pick your parents!”

      “That’s for sure.” The kid leaned his seat back and put his hands behind his head. The two men laughed together.

      “I hope you don’t mind me singing. I just got to sing when I drive. Keeps me awake, keeps me concentrating.”

      “No, man, go ahead.”

      “Your daddy he’s an outlaw, and a wanderer by trade. He’ll teach you how to pick and choose and how to throw the blade…” 
 

* * * 
 

      The next hour passed quickly for the two men. They laughed and talked about their lives and troubles. Jesse did most of the talking and Keaton listened. Just as soon as Keaton shut his eyes, leaning against the window, Jesse spoke up again.

      “Hey! Keaton, you awake?”

      “Huh? Oh, yeah. What is it?”

      “I dunno. I just get lonely. You ever get lonely, Keaton?” He paused. “Ever gotten a prostitute? I have never done it with a hooker. You believe that?”

      “Um, actually my friends hired one for my birthday one time.”

      “Wow. What was it like?” Jesse took his eyes off the road and slowly turned to look straight at Keaton. He looked completely serious. He turned back to the road.

      “Uh, she was good. I was pretty drunk, but it was fun, I guess.”

      “Hm. Ever had human flesh?”

      Keaton didn’t answer right away. He sat up straight and thought about the question for a moment.

      “You’re full of questions, aren’t you? Where do you come up with this stuff?” He laughed. “No. No, I can’t say I’ve ever been in a situation where I had to eat…human flesh? Is that what you said?”

      “Yeah. Like human meat. I’ve never had that either. You know, I’ve never done a lot of things. I regret that, you know?”

      The two men sat in a solemn silence for a moment. Then Jesse started up again.

      “You wanna party, Keaton?”

      Keaton laughed and shook his head. “Sure, man. Let’s party.” And he put his head back against the window and closed his eyes. 
 

      “Damn. How long I been asleep for?” Keaton said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. His neck was stiff from leaning against the window. He looked at the clock. It read 2:14 AM.

      “A long time, buddy.”

      “So when were you planning on starting the party, man?” Keaton was being a bit more blatant with his sarcasm. It was obvious he thought the old guy’s desire for a hot young girl was humorous.

      “I was just thinking. I was just thinking what I wanted to do first.” Jesse cracked his neck by throwing his head to the left and then to the right. “Hot damn, it’s raining hard!” He turned his windshield wipers up. They moved quickly back and forth. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—”

      “Hey. What are you doing?” Keaton asked this but it came out as more of a command.

      “Oh, I’m just counting. Just counting the swipes of the wipers. You see? It helps me think, counting. It helps me decide what to do.”

      Keaton sat back again in his seat and the two men drove in silence for a couple of minutes.

      “Hey. Look at that guy,” Keaton said, pointing to a figure on the side of the road. “He’s out here so late in the rain. Jeeze. Better him than us, right?” He laughed and elbowed Jesse lightly. Usually, Jesse laughed at this sort of stuff, but this time he didn’t say anything.

      The figure began to cross the street about 200 feet in front of Jesse’s car. He came about half way out and waited, signaling for Jesse to drive past.

      Jesse stepped on the gas.

      “That’s right, man,” Keaton said. “It’s just you and me. Forget that guy.” He smiled.

      Jesse’s speedometer climbed to 60, then 70.

      “Don’t you think you’re goin’ a little fast, man? There’s a turn up ahead. You gotta take it slower.”

      Jesse slowly turned the wheel. But he turned it to the left. The turn in the road was on his right. Easily, the car began the cross the double-yellow lines in the middle of the road.

      “Hey! Man!” Apparently, that’s all Keaton could think of to say.

      Jesse kept turning the wheel. Suddenly, the dark figure in the road was completely lit up by the headlights of the car. The guy just stood there. He dropped his bag, like he was ready to run, but he had no time. Jesse stepped on the gas. The car lurched. There were two thuds, about a second apart. The car screeched to a stop.

      The two men sat in the car for five seconds. Jesse counted it for them.

      “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” He was, again, in sync with the wipers. They were still on. Beating back and forth. Like the heartbeat of the highway. He got out of the car and left the door open behind him. Keaton sat inside. He stared at his feet. He got a chill. He looked at the keys still in the car. But it was too late.

      “Keaton! Get out here.” Jesse appeared at the door again. He smiled.

      Keaton got out. He shut the door behind him. He walked, in silence, in the rain, around to where Jesse stood, at the back of the car.

      “Let’s party,” Jesse said.