Eidetic

You know when you speak to a war veteran, and their eyes cloud over as they focus on a distant memory? They have that expression that darkens their face and says “I’ve seen things that you can’t even imagine”. Well, you might say the same for me. How could I not have? I’ve spent the last three years on the road, driving this country harder than a pharmaceutical company driving up the price of cancer drugs. So yeah, you could say I’ve seen some things. What’s better is the photographic evidence I have, otherwise no-one would believe it. 

The company (who for legal reasons will remain unnamed), has censored a lot, and sometimes they even made me take the photos again. I cannot express how much I hate driving down the same road twice. No doubt you’ve seen some cute ones - those are always the ones that make social media, aren’t they? “Homeless dog chases car for miles, winds up adopted - CLICK HERE FOR PHOTOS”. I’ve seen plenty of those in my time. I did not end up with a dog. It would be irresponsible seeing as I spend all my time away from home. Also, I don’t like dogs. 

Oh man, I’ve seen men locked out of their own homes in nothing but their underwear and an angry wife’s face glaring out the window. I’ve seen drug deals so obvious it’s a miracle either party managed to navigate their way downtown. One time, I caught the back end of a Wicca ritual on the edge of the park (clothing optional).  

The best lemonade stand I saw was in a suburb in Albuquerque. Hottest day of the year and the kids running it were in full Darth Vader and T-Rex costumes. They were also selling apple juice. On that premise alone, I couldn’t resist buying from them. The juice was oversweet and luke-warm in a way that makes some insignificant part of your brain question if it is urine or not. 

I’ve caught touching moments too, if you’re into that sort of thing. At least two engagements, a kid on their way to graduation and enough backyard birthday parties to make me feel a hundred. I’ve also captured a few NSFW scenes. Honestly, you would be surprised at how many exhibitionists are out there. Funny, they never made me retake those photos, just blurred them out. And in one case, by special request, left the photos in perfect high resolution. Company policy. Clear as mud, isn’t it? 

Now company policy (yes, there are a lot of them) also states that we are never, under any circumstances, allowed to pick up a member of the public and let them ride in our cars. Never. Not once. Not even if it’s a kid decked out in company merchandise from glasses to socks, begging for a glimpse into the workings of their future employee’s flagship project. No-one. On this, the company is clear. It was a little strict if you asked me (which was never something anyone cared to do), but if you don’t follow policy, you find another job. I played along right until the day I didn’t. In hindsight, perhaps company policy is there for a reason. 

I was driving just outside Santa Fe. My cameras weren’t on. The only damn rain to fall in months had interrupted me, so I was aimlessly driving while I waited for it to clear. My wipers were struggling to keep up with the downpour. In the heartbeat that my screen was clear, I saw someone walking along the road, drenched and trudging through the mud without a sense of purpose or hope. I pulled over, and letting the rain through the open window, I told them to jump in. 

 Now, I know what you are thinking - picking up a stranger on a deserted road with minimal cell service is not the smartest move in the world. But let’s just assess the facts. She was tiny, dwarfed by her backpack, and didn’t look older than twenty-three. In contrast, I was over 200 pounds, a good blend of flab and muscle, a pitch-black beard and a baseball cap. On paper, she was the one making a stupid move. 

She took in my appearance and went straight for the backseat. I didn’t blame her, but there was so much camera equipment back there, she had to fold her tiny frame even further than the small seat already required, and perch her backpack on her lap. I adjusted my rearview mirror to get a better perspective. She hugged the bag close and met my eyes with a steady gaze. 

I started up the car again and carried on as if she wasn’t there. I was already guilty of breaking policy beyond the whole “don’t smoke in the car” rule. The less I knew about her, the better. I was about to put some music on, although it would have been pointless over the sound of the rain, when she broke the silence. 

“Thank you for stopping.”

“You’re welcome. It sucks to be out there right now.” I said while I nodded towards the window, as if my words needed any clarification. She said nothing. She pulled her backpack closer, intertwining her fingers in a human vice. 

As suddenly as the rain had started, it stopped. The road stretching out in front of me steamed and my windows misted up. I checked my GPS - company-sponsored - and saw one of my routes was a few miles ahead. I guessed that my illegal passenger might take a sudden detour off the main road the wrong way and I looked at her in the mirror again. 

“Hey, do you mind if I go off the freeway? It’s just that now that the rain has stopped, I kind of have to get back to work.” I said as I gestured to the camera equipment which encroached in on her space. “I can always drop you off if you’d rather not come along…”

“Oh no, that’s cool, I’ll stick with you for now.” She said. 

It was only at this point that I began to wonder about my passenger. Most of my female friends would never consider accepting a lift from a strange man in the middle of nowhere. But they would never find themselves in the situation where they needed one either. 

“Where are you actually headed?” I asked. 

“Oh, just out of town. Maybe Colorado ways, maybe back down to Albuquerque. I haven’t really thought it through.” She said in a monotone as she stared out the window. She released her hands and traced the lines the raindrops had left on the window. 

My chest compressed with a twinge of unease. She didn’t seem to have a plan to leave the car anytime soon. 

“Have you ever been up Thompson Peak?” she asked without taking her eyes from the window.

“No. I’m not from New Mexico.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and ached for a cigarette. 

“It’s a good hike. You can see the city from up there.” 

I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t used to having people in my car while I worked and from my setup it surely didn’t seem likely that I was in the area for a hike. Instead, I turned on the cameras, preparing for my route. Next, I checked all the mirrors, getting ready for my turn. 

The red and blue of a police car flashed behind me, and I slowed to let him pass. I wasn’t speeding - company policy is strict on that one - but the car stayed behind me, pulling closer with each yard I covered. I looked around, wondering if the company already knew that I had picked up a stranger. People say that they can listen to your conversations through your phones, but I’d never entertained the notion until then. My hands slipped on the steering wheel. I looked at the sweaty handprint I had left behind. 

At this point I realized I had no clue how old the girl in the backseat was. For all I knew I was transporting a minor. In the rain, she had looked like the storm would wash her away and her black makeup had melted around her eyes. If you looked hard enough, she could have been eighteen or even younger. The cruiser behind me flashed his lights into overdrive and let the siren go off for half a beat. I slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder, exhaling, and trying to calm the rush of blood in my ears. 

She looked nervous. “Please, just keep driving,” she begged, holding my eyes in the mirror. Her pupils had dilated so big that almost all of the green had disappeared. It was a flash of terror.

“I can’t. Company policy. I am sorry.” I said. My apology was pathetic. I put the car into park and began digging for my license and papers. When I looked up to greet the officer, I greeted the barrel of a gun instead. 

“Show me your hands and step out of the car slowly.” He said in a way that was both calm and menacing. I swore under my breath, incredulous. Of course, picking up a stray would land me in prison for kidnapping, or soliciting, or whatever they were going to pin on me. I could see the headlines in the papers. I wondered how much deniability the company might be able to claim. Considering the logo emblazoned on the side of the car, not much. 

I opened the door and got out, exaggerating every movement. I towered over the officer, but he stood his ground. He was the one with a 9mm and I was the one on the verge of tears. His partner was giving my passenger similar treatment, which seemed out of character for the whole “kidnapping” scenario. 

He grabbed the backpack she had been shielding and wrestled it open with one hand. 

“We got her,” he said, looking at his partner. He set his mouth in a grim line as he peered into the bag. Putting it on the ground, he put his gun away and handcuffed her. The officer with his gun trained on me needn’t have bothered, I was incapable of anything at this point. 

She looked at me and said in the same lifeless tone she had used in the car. “He just stopped to give me a ride. Let him go.”

The cop looked at me and, sensing no threat, put his gun away. “I need to ask you some questions first.” 

I nodded, wondering which part of the twilight zone I had entered and how on earth I could get back to my simple photo taking existence. As his partner frogmarched my companion to the cruiser, he walked over to the bag and brought it to me. 

“Have you ever seen this woman before today?” 

I shook my head.

“Do you know her name?” 

Again I had nothing to say, but I forced my monosyllabic “No” out. 

“Do you have any idea what she has in this bag?” 

I did a survey of what little I knew about New Mexico. So far it was the road names. The forests. The dirt. The mountains. Breaking Bad and Roswell. That was the full extent of my knowledge. “Is it drugs?” I asked. 

“That would be nice.” He replied with a sigh as if he truly wished he was holding a bag stuffed with crystal meth. “Have a look.” 

He began laying out the contents of the bag. It took me a while to work out what I was looking at. The first thing he pulled out was small and shriveled, like a leather bag that was left out in the sun too long. Slowly it dawned on me that it was shaped like a human, but the head was flat and misshapen - oval in the wrong direction. Revulsion swelled, and I swallowed the urge to throw up. The next item was a tangle of rope, but it smelled like a wet dog. The last item out of the bag was a long bowie knife in a black sheath. 

“Mummified human child. Native American hunting net made of human hair. Bowie knife.” 

The blood drained from each of my limbs. They ran hot and icy cold all at once, and there was the pricking of a thousand needles in my arms. 

“Yeah, pretty creepy. She hoisted them from one of the museums in town. Held the custodian up with the knife and ran. Can you give us a short statement?”

I nodded once more and leaned into my car, my legs feeling weaker than I cared to admit. 

When they let me go, I found the nearest motel and pulled in for the night. I tried desperately to get the images out of my head. In a museum, behind glass, it seemed fine to examine them as artifacts, but stuffed into a backpack in my car was different. Tomorrow I would need to drive my route again to get the photos for the company. I had captured everything, but it just didn’t match company policy to display mummified human remains. 

As I got into my car to drive away from the cruiser the officer had called out. “You should really be more careful about who you let into that car.” 

I turned back to him. “You are absolutely right.”

He smiled and nodded. “Can you make sure I go onto the website though?” 

I guess you might say I’ve seen some things. And I’ve got the photographic evidence to prove it.