No One Will Know

No One Will Know

           The brilliant reflection off the speed limit sign flashes in my eyes, before I read another ten mile per hour drop. The car doesn’t slow as we pass by.

           “You shouldn’t go so fast.” I say.

           Kevin huffs from the driver’s seat. “No cops out now.”

The last streetlamp on the edge of town flickers as we approach, as if it’s some sci-fi tech that transports cars to another realm. I briefly wonder what that realm would be like. Bright? Sepia toned? The headlights from the car cut into it, mixing their too bright white and muddling it all. The road slims down to two lanes, and the idea get left behind with the town.

           My eyes drift over to Kevin, gripping the steering wheel like it’ll jump from his hands at any second, then I snap them forward again. I try to focus on whether or not I left the stove on, or if the door was left open. If it was, then my cat Pickles definitely got out. Though my missing cat was the least of my problems right now.

           Kevin sniffs hard, scrubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “So, uh, how’re your classes goin?”

           “Fine.”

           “Mom says you’re on the deans list.” He chuckles to himself. “No surprise. You were always a brainiac.”

           I squint at the road, confused. The last time I had made that list was a year and a half ago. My coursework had been easy to start off with, but over the semesters I’d gone from breezing through to needing a tutor. I’d been getting ready to study for a big test tomorrow before Kevin showed up.

The houses and gas stations give way to open fields, all mowed down to dirt and weeds. The hour is too late, too dark to really see anything out there. I only know the fields are there from memory. My thoughts feel like they’re out there, tripping over dirt ruts in the dark. I fumbled for something to say. “You working anywhere?”

           He sputters, as if the idea of holding a steady job is insane. “My dad tried to get me to take some grocery store cashier bullshit. Can you believe that? Like I’m some loser.”

           I keep my mouth shut. He’d been through a few jobs in fewer years, after flunking out of school, never lasting more than six weeks at any of them. Last I heard he was calling up my step dad every few weeks for money, though none of us knew where he was staying. From the stench of stale sweat and cigarettes, he may be living out of his backseat.

           “You don’t have to worry about me though.”

           I clench my teeth. I’m far more worried about Pickles than him.

           “You’ve always worried too much. Sometimes you need to just chill. You can’t like, work all the time. You gotta blow off steam. That’s why I keep inviting you to stuff.”

           “I blow off steam in my own ways Kevin.” I bite out. Regret flashes through me as soon as the words are out. I shouldn’t be instigating him, not now. But I had a breakfast date with my friend Ashley tomorrow morning, and now I’m going to be spending that time trying to find Pickles if the door was left open.

           The engine revs, and the speedometer needle jumps higher. I shift across the cracked seats into the door as we speed around a wide curve in the road.

“You don’t need to be a bitch about it. If you’d just answer my messages sometimes, maybe I’d know.” He scrubs at his red eyes, putting his whole hand over his face.

           I watch the road, my heart rate spiking again. If another car comes, or a deer jumps out he’ll never see it.

           He smacks the steering wheel, his wide eyes working to focus on the illuminated pavement. “Gotta put the brights on.” He mumbles.

           The speedometer drifts lower as his focus shifts, tying to find the bright setting on his headlights.

           I try to think of something else to distract him. Last time I saw him, he’d been in a band. They made the worst music, trying to combine rap, rock, and a complete lack of talent. But they were all sure they’d be discovered by putting their bar gig videos online. “How’s the band?”

           “Oh, don’t even get me started with those fucking assholes.” He spits, venom coating his tongue. “They don’t know shit! Bunch of wannabe dickheads.” He continues ranting throwing curses around like confetti as he slanders his ex-bandmates. He reaches down by the door, pulling out a flask and attempting to unscrew it one handed.

           My focus shifts to the road. My wide eyes tracking the approaching white lines on the edge of the asphalt. The tires cross the rumble strip, vibrating the car and his string of profanity. He swerves, and we’re yanked across the double yellow line before he rights the car. The empty fields have long given way to thick trees. If we’d gone off the road, who knows if we would have survived.

           “Close one.” He chuckles.

           The quiet sits between us as he drives. I can’t help but worry over Pickles and my exam tomorrow and why he even came over to my apartment. My eyes drift to the knife strapped to his belt, resting at an odd angle through the seatbelt. The knife he used to get me in the car in the first place. I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a shaky breath. “Kev, where are we going?”

           He takes a long swig from his flask, then tosses the empty container into the back.

           I force myself to keep breathing.

           “My buddy’s got a place out here. Nice and quiet. No one will know.”

           No one will know. No one will ever know. No one will ever find me, or know what happened. I’ll just be gone, and my mom will have to take care of my cat and in ten years I’ll be a crime drama episode like the one I was going to watch after I finished studying.

           No.

           No no no.

           I glance at the knife again, but each time I play it through it doesn’t work. I could fumble, he could grab me, and we would crash. But if we did crash. . .

           I stare out the windshield, at the trees illuminated in the headlights. They push against invisible boundaries, wanting to take over our carefully manicured roadside. They’re tall, thick and dense. I can’t see past the first row of trunks, even though they’re only feet from the end of the roadside.

           Kevin is focused straight ahead, unaware of my calculating. All I have to do is surprise him. I swallow, knowing this will hurt. But I have better chances here, out in those impossibility dark woods than at our destination.

           I grab the wheel, jerking it sideways. Screeching rubber and crunching metal overpower the sounds of screaming and profanity as the forest races closer and closer, spinning like a kaleidoscope. Until it stops.