Lost To Find The Truth

Gates appeared where there were none before. She slowed, showed her essential papers through the window, got them scanned and drove on. Not a word was uttered, not a drop of air came in or out of the car. 

Being a creature of habit, she found it difficult, if not impossible, to change her routine. She continued to leave for work at precisely 8:30 am to drive through the ghost town of empty streets, passing massive parking lots devoid of cars. 

Traffic lights continued to change colors, red to stop, green to go. Rachel, driving the only car on the road, continued to obey the rules and came to a complete stop at the intersection. As if on cue, her cell phone buzzed.

“Working from home. Hold down the fort.”

Glancing up at the still red light, Rachel quickly tapped out the message back to her boss.

“Got it.” She hit send as the light turned green.

“Last one standing,” she said out loud as she stepped lightly on the gas, continuing her slow commute to her newly abandoned office.

She thought of the last few days of soothing clients as they called in a panic. Unable to transfer calls to voicemails already full, she had run from office to office adding “while you were out” messages to growing piles on desks. The clients cared about their money, but the accountants didn’t care about their clients.   

Glancing at the unopened mask sitting on the passenger seat, she was grateful that she wouldn’t be required to wear it at her desk. The silver lining of her isolation.

Rachel turned on the radio debating which point of view to listen to, the believers or the nonbelievers. Which side held the truth? Not a simple case of bickering between the sneetches and those with a star on their belly. This was of dire consequences, for those who didn’t believe stood a real chance of killing those who did.

Nervously chewing on the skin around her nail, she decided not to indulge in the news at all. She had enough of one side discussing overflowing hospitals and morgues while the other side screamed fake news. It was impossible to discern fact from fiction in the heated division. 

Waiting for yet another red light to turn green, Rachel scanned through her favorite radio stations, stopping when she heard an old forgotten song from back in the day. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and bopped her head in rhythm. Raising the volume, she belted out the lyrics from long ago, amazed that her memory had stored every word accurately. 

The louder the music, the higher her spirits rose. She was glad for the empty office that would greet her; grateful she still had a job to go to during lockdown. As admin in a CPA firm, she was deemed an essential worker by a government that didn’t care about its people. The old expression that nothing is certain but death and taxes had proven to be true.

Was she the lucky one keeping up her routine while the world went on hiatus? Or the foolish one enduring the stress while others had endless time off? 

Another glance at the dashboard clock confirmed that she was way ahead of schedule. After swiping her phone to reread her boss’s text, she placed it face down on the seat next to her alongside the packed lunch and unnecessary mask. She smiled, excited for a small taste of freedom if only for a few minutes.

Suddenly she made a random turn and then another, singing along with the radio until the radio no longer sang along with her. A buzzy static replaced her trip down memory lane with no explanation, filling Rachel with an eerie sense of dread.

Slowing the car down to a crawl, she noticed garbage lining the streets, furniture and clothes heaped haphazardly on lawns. She turned off the noise as she looked around for a street sign. Where was she exactly?

Over the years, her once pleasant suburb had become a land exclusively for the rich and the poor, with the middle class driven out. Those stubborn enough to stay either believed things would get better or had nowhere to go. Others, like herself, were unwilling to leave elderly parents and grown children behind to selfishly look for an easier, more affordable life. 

Was this what the less fortunate part of town had evolved into? She continued driving slowly, just tapping the gas pedal allowing her car to coast along the foreign road. She turned her head from side to side taking it all in. 

Gone were the white picket fences, the hanging baskets, and flowerbeds under picture windows. Although too far to see, Rachel assumed there were no ‘Welcome, Wipe Your Feet’ doormats to greet those seeking the comforts of home.

Boarded up front doors and windows appeared with increasing frequency as Rachel drove deeper into the nightmare. Dripping spray painted symbols in codes unknown to her marked the rotten wood, red X, black X, white circle. A chill ran through her. These marks did not signify economic status. This was something else. Something terrifying.

She made yet another turn and slammed on her brakes.

At first it was like a scene from a science fiction movie. A group of people in hazmat suits rushed about working together on a mission. Rachel’s heart raced; her mouth grew dry. She didn’t want to and knew she shouldn’t, but she drove closer to see what was going on. The scene turned from science fiction to horror as she saw body bags piled into trucks. 

She sat frozen until noticed. A worker turned and walked towards her in what felt like slow motion attracting the attention of a second and then third coworker. The mass was heading in her direction like a swarm of hungry animals on a jungle safari. 

“Get me out of here,” she screamed. Making a screeching U-turn on the narrow street, she drove over a front lawn littered with garbage.

She found her way back to the ghost town route and continued her drive to the office, hyperventilating and shaking. The clock on her dashboard showed eight minutes remaining before her 9:00 am start of the work day. She had to pull herself together, for being a creature of habit, her nervous breakdown was going to have to wait until after 5:00 pm.