Honeymoon in Limbo

Honeymoon in Limbo

by Heather Dale

The seashells hanging from the rearview mirror clacked together with each bump in the road. They passed a wood sign that read, “Welcome to Oar’s Rest, an All-America Town.”

           “Remember our first road trip in this beast? We ended up stopping at that god-awful loud truck stop. We were parked next to the screaming guy whose diesel engine ran all damn night.” Margret sighed. She stared out the window, fondling the seashell chime recalling the memory. The cool air swirled through the cab, blowing her blonde hair across her face.

           “Yea, we hit the jackpot there,” Ben laughed and grabbed her hand. As his thumb rubbed her new wedding band, he smiled. “This is going to be an epic honeymoon, babe. I can’t wait to get to the first campground. We literally park right on the beach.” His excitement was apparent in the way his blue eyes lit up.

           “Do you think we’ll wake up and see the wild horses?” Margret had a life-long love with everything equine. Her childhood bedroom looked like a tack house with riding posters, collectible horse statues, and horseshoe wallpaper.

           “I don’t know, maybe, sweetheart.” Ben stroked her ring finger some more as they drove on. The sun was setting to their west and cast an orange glow on the side of Ben’s face, turning his brown hair golden. They had left Pennsylvania the day before and were now somewhere in Virginia. Relying solely on a road atlas from 2002 and a twelve-year-old Garmin GPS, they ended up on a road not intended for oversized vehicles. The RV bumped and wound along slowly as the night sky finally settled in. It shimmered with bright stars and a full moon that lit up the rugged landscape. They drove for a few miles before Margret broke the silence.

“Ben, I don’t think we want to be on this road, if you can call it that. Can we stop for a minute so I can check the map?” There was a quiver of concern laced in her voice.

           “Yea, that’s a good idea. I don’t like this road either. I’ll drive a little further and see if there’s a pull-off.” He switched his bright lights on. “Do you know what town we’re in?” Although it was dark out, he squinted and searched in the distance, adjusting his glasses to see better.

           Margret bit her lip and said, “I don’t. I haven’t checked the map in a while, sorry.” She truly felt terrible for her slip up but would make it right when they stopped. As the camper motored on, a small figure appeared up ahead. A person illuminated in the RV headlights, and when the pedestrian heard the engine roaring closer, he turned around and stuck out his thumb.

“Should we stop?” Margret asked genuinely.

“Are you nuts? Hell no, I’m not stopping. We don’t even know where we are. That guy could be a psychopath.” He kept the bright lights on. “Sorry, hon, but no.” Ben turned on the radio to distract his bride from the guilt she would inevitably feel when they passed right by the hitchhiker. No brake lights and a friendly wave indicating a welcome ride. Margret sat silently, keeping her head down, and stared at the map as Bob Marley sang about how every little thing was gonna be alright. She glimpsed in the side mirror at the man still standing in the road with his thumb out, enveloped now by their cloud of road dust.

“Babe,” she started.

“Don’t say it. I’m not turning around. And even if I did, where do you think I’d be able to in this thing?” There was a hint of frustration in Ben’s voice, and she knew it was because he was nervous but would never admit it out loud. They drove on, not saying a word and Margret’s anxiety started to build. She thought about what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. It wasn’t good travel etiquette to be a worrywart, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something dreadful was going to happen. Up ahead, a large pothole was looming, and by the time Ben saw it, he couldn’t avoid the impact. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the back passenger side of the RV sank.

           “Ah shit,” Ben said vehemently and steered the camper to the side of the road. He turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Could you hold the flashlight while I see what’s going on?” He dug around in a drawer and pulled out a large black Maglite and handed it to Margret.

           “Oh god, I hope this is an easy fix,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t be. As newbies not only in marriage but in RV traveling, this was the first time they’d gotten a flat tire. It especially made Margret wary that it was late at night, and neither was entirely sure where they were. She thought hard but couldn’t recall the last time they passed a gas station or a house. Just the hitchhiker miles back.

           “You and me both,” Ben agreed, but he knew they were in a pickle. “Shine the light along the ground from the front tire to the back. I just want to get the whole picture.” He opened the door and stepped outside, and the cool air hit him with the scent of decaying leaves. She got out and did what he asked, shining the light along the bottom from tire to tire. The back passenger was blown to smithereens with pieces of black rubber shredded and hanging grotesquely from the rim.

           “Okay, well, here goes nothing. Stay there. I need to get the tools.” Ben turned and ran into the camper, leaving Margret alone. He seemed to be in there forever, and she could hear him banging around furniture trying to get his toolkit from under the sofa. Suddenly, Margret heard footsteps coming up behind her. Frightened, she twirled around and pointed the flashlight straight ahead. The man walking toward her was the hitchhiker they callously passed by earlier. Her hands started to shake, causing the light to bounce around on the man’s figure. As he got closer, she noticed his dirty blue jeans and brown jacket riddled with holes. There was something wrong with his face like it was unfinished. Before she could really focus on it, he spoke.

           “Got a flat, I see. Need some help?” His southern drawl suggested he was in his element there in the Virginia woods. Margret stood silently, unable to speak. She trained the flashlight beam on his face trying to make sense of her predicament. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Okay, well, let’s just take a look-see.” He moved past and eyed her up and down. The crooked smile on his face read deception, and the feeling in her gut terrified her. He walked over to the rear of the camper, looking into every window along the way. Ben was still inside, searching for his tools, unaware of the stranger outside. The man knelt down and poked around at the deflated tire. Margret started to sweat, and beads of moisture formed on her face and under her arms.

“If you’ll be so kind as to shine that there flashlight down here, I can get a better look.” Margret didn’t move for several seconds while her mind grappled with what to do. Should she scream for Ben? Should she do what this stranger said? There seemed to be no middle-ground solution here, so she went with the latter choosing his help over her fear. Margret walked toward him and shined the light on the blowout. He turned to face her just as Margret opened her mouth to ask his name, and then it happened. Somehow, as the events played out, an apparition of her slid out of her body and hovered close by, watching everything unfold. He was pointing a gun at her face and saying something, but her ears weren’t working. Margret watched helplessly as the shell of herself stood motionless. A bullet left the chamber, slicing through the air in slow motion, carving a path straight for her face. Margret was standing next to herself as it pierced flesh and bone right between her eyes. Margret’s fate was sealed as everything went black. The second bullet would seal Ben’s fate just the same.

***

           The evening was crisp, with fall hanging thick in the air. Ben grabbed Margret’s hand and rubbed his thumb on her new wedding band. Her skin was hauntingly cold and lifeless, and her face was pallid. Both Margret’s and Ben’s bodies had taken on a strange corporeal essence, almost translucent.

           “Do you remember our first adventure in this thing?” he asked, knowing she remembered every detail.

           “Of course! We drove for twelve hours that first day. Then you finally decided to pull over at that god-awful truck stop. Please promise me we’ll never spend another night in one of those places ever again.” Margret’s demand was smoothed over by the sweetness of her voice. Ben squeezed her hand three times quickly in loving response.

           “Meg, you know I’d do anything for you. I promise, here and now, we shall never again spend another night at a god-awful truck stop.” He had a smirk on his face that suggested he wasn’t entirely sincere, and he held his colorless hand up in a boy scouts honor. She laughed at his playfulness as the radio sang softly.

Late into the night, they passed an old wooden sign that read, “Welcome to Oar’s Rest, an All-America Town.” Margret was sleeping soundly in the passenger seat while Ben tried to keep his eyes open. There were no other cars on the road, and they hadn’t passed a gas station or house in the past hour. The road began to wind, and there seemed to be more gravel and dirt than asphalt.

The jostling woke Margret, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she asked, “Where are we?” yawning big and satisfying. Her face took on a spectral form with her mouth gaping. She looked corpselike in the moonlight, her appearance wan.

“I’m not completely sure. But I do know I don’t like this road. Keep your eyes peeled for a decent place to pull over, like a turn-around or pull-off. I need to look at the map.” Margret nodded sleepily and tried to keep her eyes open and alert. The road began to narrow, and there were more potholes than road. Ben slowed and maneuvered the giant vehicle swiftly around the divots and washboards. Finally, they cleared the narrow gauntlet and were riding on smooth pavement. The open sky showed off millions of shimmering stars and a bright full moon. As the RV crested a hill, Margret noticed something up ahead. The headlights illuminated a man who turned around as they approached. He stuck his thumb out and walked backward, looking at them through the gargantuan windshield.

“Babe-“

“Don’t even ask, Meg. We aren’t stopping. We don’t even know where we are, let alone what kinds of people are out there, especially weirdos thumbing it in the middle of the night.” She knew he wouldn’t change his mind, so she didn’t press the matter.

As they neared, the man turned and began running to keep up with the camper. Ben moved over a bit to give him room when suddenly, the man darted out into the middle of their lane. As Margret screamed for Ben to look out, he slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The hitchhiker was right in their path, and Ben closed his eyes and braced for impact. But, to his utter shock, nothing happened. There was no sickening thud, no shudder of the RV on impact, and they didn’t run anyone over. Ben’s eyes flew open, and he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the lane. A wave of panic rolled over him. Suddenly, his body glided ghostlike from the captain’s chair and out into the roadway, entirely out of his control. The hitchhiker was hunched over and cowering with his arms protecting his head. Ben watched as the man got up and looked around, frantically searching for the vehicle that hit him. But he wasn’t hit; he was alive. The man touched himself all over to make sure it was true. He couldn’t see Ben or the massive camper just yards away.

“Hey! Are you okay?!” Ben yelled to him, but the man had made no indication he heard a word. Instead, he got his bearings and stood upright. After a moment, the hitchhiker continued walking along the dark road in the same direction as before. Ben watched him walk right past them like they were invisible.

Ben got back into the RV and sat back in the captain’s chair, “That was weird, really, really strange.” He scratched his head in astonishment and stared into the night, his face wrought with confusion.

Margret shrieked, “What the hell happened!? What the hell happened? Did we hit him? Is he dead?” Her voice was high and frantic as she waved her ethereal arms through the air.

Ben was dumbfounded when he answered. “No. He’s perfectly fine.”

“What? How can that be possible? We drove right into-” Margret fell silent in disbelief as she realized the horrifying truth. The couple hadn’t driven into the man; rather, they went right through him. They had become a thin veil of translucent matter. Their sudden and violent deaths rendered them supernatural and forced to relive their last moments in oblivion. Suddenly, their minds let go of the events as quickly as they happened, and they had no memory of what had transpired. The proverbial reset button had been pushed. Taciturnly, Ben started the engine, buckled his seatbelt, and put the rig in drive as if on autopilot. He pressed the gas slowly, easing the beast back into motion. The only sound came from the air rushing into the cab through the open windows and the crickets singing their nightly lullaby. Ben turned on the radio, and Bob Marley was singing his message that every little thing was gonna be alright. He rolled his window down all the way, letting the cool night air blow across his pale face. Margret sat next to him quietly and stared out the window, watching the landscape roll by, illuminated now by the setting sun. On either side of them, fields and farmland rolled by in greens and yellows made more vibrant contrasted against the sky.

“Hey babe, do you remember our first trip together in Ole’ Glory?” She tapped the dash fondly with her milky hand. “And that god-awful truck stop we stayed at on our way to Virginia! Oh my god, please promise me we’ll never stay at another one of those ever again.” Margret laughed, recalling their sleepless first night and how naïve they both were back then.

“How could I forget? That was one for the books. Actually, I think that was the first entry I made in our travel journal,” Ben said and laughed with her, their disembodied voices dream-like.

“This is going to be the most amazing honeymoon, don’t you think, sweetheart?” Margret pulled her sunglasses down her nose and looked at Ben.

“One for the books,” he replied with a smile. The setting sun gleamed through his translucent body, turning it into an iridescent specter.

The drive was peaceful, with no other vehicles on the road. In fact, Ben couldn’t remember the last time they’d passed a gas station or even a house. He looked over at his new bride, and she smiled at him, displaying a ghostly grin. Just then, they passed an old wood sign that read, “Welcome to Oar’s Rest, an All-America Town.”