When All Else Fails

“Who says I can’t write to a deadline,” Joanne cried exultantly, punctuating her delight by typing the last character, of the last word, of the last section of her story, with a flourish.

Her roommate, Serena, was busily reading, but smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Almost done,” she said.

“C’mon,” Joanne gestured, grabbing her jacket from the back of a dining room chair, “you can finish proofreading that later. I need to get some fresh air.”

Laughing, they pushed the outer doors of their apartment complex open, nearly knocking over one of their elderly neighbors who had been walking her dog.

“Sorry Mrs. Bushkin, sorry Benny,” Joanne gasped as Benny jumped up to lick her face.

Dodging sideways she barely missed the slobbery show of affection, and patted his furry head instead. “See you later Benny.”

Jumping into her car, the girls took off down the road.

“What do you think of it so far?” Joanne asked. “I know it’s just a small assignment for my creative writing class, but I want your honest opinion because I might consider entering it in the school writing contest if it’s good enough.”

“Sure,” Serena answered. “The overall story is good, but being action packed isn’t enough. Something needs to happen that pushes your protagonist past her limitations, to help her overcome the events she’s dealing with.”

Joanne’s brow furrowed a bit, trying to think of how she could add that additional layer to her story without going over her word count. “Hmmm,” she thought out loud, “this is going to take more than fresh air. Do you have time for a drive out in the country? I always do my best thinking away from the city.”

“Of course,” Serena replied, “but let’s grab something to eat first, I’m starving.”

Pulling into the Get-N-Go gas station, Joanne followed Serena toward the main doors, but her attention was diverted by a fluttering to her right, .

“Hang on,” she called out.

Caught in the thorny branches, near the base of the shrub line, Joanne extracted her find. Excitedly waving it over her head, she ran back to her friend.

“Check this out!” she cried. In her hands were several crumpled dollar bills.

“Nice,” Serena responded, “but that’s a lot of money, who do you think it belongs to?”

“I don’t know,” Joanne replied, “but it’s mine now. I mean how could we possibly trace the owner? It’s not like they left their ID in the bushes.”

“No, I guess not,” Serena agreed, “but it’s a shame. I know how I’d feel if I lost that much money.”

Nodding her agreement, Joanne walked into the building, paid for her gas, and two MTO sandwiches with drinks. After returning, she began pumping the gas. “You know,” she observed, “that was a real piece of luck back there.”

“Duck!” cried Serena, abruptly pushing Joanne behind the gas pump.

“Hey,” Joanne protested, pulling away from her friend, “what was that about?”

“Cool it,” Serena whispered, holding Joanne back while she poked her head up level with the top of the pump. “I just saw Greg pull in.”

“Oh great,” Joanne grimaced, “where is he now?”

“He went inside. Quick, finish pumping that gas and let’s get out of here.”

Staying out of sight, Joanne finished, slipped into the driver’s seat, and pulled out onto the road. Once they were out of sight she sighed and laughed. “Well, that was pretty lucky I’d say. I found money, and avoided Greg all in one stop.”

“Kind of like the character in your story,” Serena said thoughtfully. “She found some money, and nearly ran into an angry ex-boyfriend too.”

“Yeah,” Joanne smiled, shaking her head, “how about that. Maybe I’m a psychic.”

“I don’t know if you’re psychic, but it does have a feeling of Déjà vu about it. Kind of gives me the creeps. And anyway, it’s not exactly like the story, is it. I mean she tried to find the person who lost the money, and you didn’t.

“Don’t be silly,” Joanne scoffed, “It’s just a story. No one can find the owner of lost cash in real life.”

“But you could have tried,” Serena countered.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Joanne snapped, beginning to feel a bit guilty that she had jumped so quickly to capitalize on someone else’s misfortune, but not wanting to admit it. “Besides, if I’d started wandering round asking people if they had lost money, I wouldn’t have been able to avoid Greg, and I sure didn’t need that drama right now.”  

Serena nodded silently; sorry she had brought it up.

While proofreading Joanne’s paper, she had been struck by how similar the protagonist’s story with her ex had lined up with Joanne’s own history with Greg, but she hadn’t wanted to say anything, as it was a touchy subject. But now, the lines between fiction and reality were getting a little too close, and even though intellectually she knew better, it was making her uneasy.

“We could go out to the old cemetery at the edge of town,” Serena suggested, changing the subject, “that should give you plenty of inspiration.”

“I’m not sure that’s the kind of influence I’m looking for,” Joanne answered, “but sure, why not.”

Twenty minutes later they found themselves bouncing along a rutted dirt road, overgrown with shrubs and weeds that pushed against the sides of the car. A particularly deep and unexpected dip startled them both, as a metallic scraping sound came from beneath them.

“I think this might have been a mistake,” Serena reflected, through gritted teeth. “What do you think we hit this time?”

“I don’t know,” Joanne replied, sweat forming on her worried face, “but I’m taking the first exit out of here.”

Creeping slowly over the remaining span of roughly twenty-five yards, they reached the exit at last, and speedily set off on the road to home.

“I am so done for today,” Joanne said at last with a hoarse voice. Feeling as though she had been holding her breath for the last ten minutes, it was a relief to know they would soon be near civilization, and home. And none too soon. While they had been driving, sheltered by the tree covered cemetery, storm clouds had gathered, and the sky was darkening fast.

They traveled a few more miles before a clicking sound started, and the engine began to sputter, losing power.

“What now,” Joanne exclaimed, looking down at the instrument panel of the car, eyes widening in shock. The gas tank was on empty!

“How much gas did you put in earlier?” Serena asked.

“Way more than enough,” Joanne stammered, “at least eight gallons.” Smacking her forehead she cried out, “it must have been that rock we hit, it knocked a hole in the gas tank.”

“How can you be sure?” Serena asked casting a worried glance toward the thickening clouds.

“Don’t you remember?” Joanne asked. Clearly we’re living out my story.”

“Hey,” Serena said, “I was just kidding about that.”

“Well, I’m not,” Joanne sighed. “First the dog jumped up on me, then I found the money and nearly ran into Greg at the gas station.”

“Those were just coincidences,” Serena said, in an attempt to convince both of them, “you said so yourself. They were just normal things that happened to us by chance— weren’t they?”

“I’d like to believe that, but this is becoming all too real. Remember the part where they drove off into the woods and ran out of gas?”

“Yes, but they weren’t in a cemetery, and it wasn’t caused by a rock.”

“True, but they were on a rutted-up dirt road, and they were stranded too far from home to walk in the storm.”

“So what do we do?”

“We see if we can rewrite the story,” Joanne replied, with a conviction she didn’t feel. “We won’t be finding shelter in an old manor house, partly because there aren’t any around here, but also because we need to deviate from the story if we are going to break this attachment we seem to have picked up. Either way we need to find some kind of shelter, this storm is looking really bad.”

“Shouldn’t we stay in the car,” Serena asked, “Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

“No,” Joanne answered, opening her door, “I’m no expert, but I know enough about storms to say that this one could easily produce hail big enough to shatter the windshield, or even spawn a tornado, and if that happens the car is the last place we want to be.”

Serena nodded, “okay, better safe than sorry I guess, but can we find shelter fast enough?”

“I think so,” Joanne raised her voice to be heard over the rapidly increasing winds.

“I remember there was a farm house not too far from here, just beyond those trees, but we’d better run.”

Abandoning the car to it’s fate, Serena and Joanne sprinted in the direction of their best hope, but they didn’t get far before it began to rain, and lightning streaked the sky. The clouds writhed about, turning odd shades of greenish yellow and dark gray. Her panic level rising, Joanne began pulling Serena towards an old barn. She could see the farm house behind it, but it was too far, and she knew they’d never make it.

Gasping for breath, they ran into the structure, slamming the door shut behind them. The wind buffeted the barn with incredible force, shaking the walls as the girls retreated into one of the horse stalls for added protection.

A sudden crash against the door caused them both to jump, while thunder echoed around them.

Reviewing the events from her story, Joanne tried to keep her breathing steady, but she was worried. What if it didn’t matter where they sheltered? They were still following the basic plot of the narrative, and if the details mattered less than the essence of the story itself, they were in big trouble. What had she been thinking, she groaned softly, writing such gruesome stuff.

           “Joanne,” Serena’s voice, small and scared, broke into her thoughts, “how does the story end? We left before I got to the last scene— how does it end?”

A vision of her protagonist trapped in a burning building caused Joanne to dash to the door, only to find it jammed. Looking out the adjacent window all she could see were leaves and branches— a tree had fallen and was blocking their way out.

Pushing back the hysteria rising within her, Joanne’s eyes darted around the room for some other means of escape. Another ear-splitting explosion ripped through the air, followed by a streak of light that hit the ground, causing a tingling in Joanne’s fingers.

Minutes later, detecting the faint smell of smoke, Joanne slowly turned. The orange glow at the back of the barn robbed her of any lingering belief that there was a realistic chance of finding a way out.

“I’m sorry Serena.” she sobbed, unable to look her friend in the eye. “there’s no way out, just like the story.”

“But you said we were going to rewrite it,” Serena exclaimed, “we can’t give up now!”

 Tears slowly traced their way down Joanne’s flushed cheeks. “I’m so, so, sorry,” was all she could choke out.

“Well I’m not giving up so easily,” Serena declared. “When all else fails, you just have to find another way.”

Remembering what Serena had said earlier about pushing the protagonist past her limitations, Joanne felt a tiny flame of hope flicker within her. Perhaps they were doomed, she thought, but Serena was right, they couldn't go down without a fight!