If you find yourself in Peotone, IL, avoid the Windmill Pt. 1
I wound up there by accident once. My cousin and I were on a motorcycle trip only hauling whatever fit on our newly purchased, out of date, Japanese motorcycles. Cruiser style bikes, no street bikes for us. My cousin, Ethan, is a very unassuming man. Modestly dressed, graphic tees, Levis 501s, and the same beat down chuck Taylor’s he’s had since he graduated college. All draped over the most average build, like a default option in any create a character portion of a video game. Faded, curly, shoulder length blond hair, always tucked under a sweat stained baseball cap, with his thin round glasses sitting just beneath the brim of it. All of this being the face in front of his pragmatic sensibility. Loading our bikes with nothing more than a tarp, a bedroll, and a mini propane grill, we set off to Virginia from South Dakota. To save money we figured we would just camp off the side of the road or wherever we wouldn’t get bothered by the local PD. Virginia has good places in the mountains to ride on: Harsh asphalt with serpentine anatomy, borderline consumed by the surrounding nature. The mountains bursting from the terra firma, interrupting the sun’s glare between the trees. Just over the Illinois border we made a pitstop at Walmart, and in hindsight, this was our first encounter with them.
While we were gathering supplies, a worker asked if we needed help finding anything. He seemed nice enough, but his energy was strange. He was a mouth breather, each exhale seemingly more drawn out than the last, and stood a little too close to us. Had a mark in the shape of an unknown continent the color of merlot spreading from under his left eye almost dripping down to his flared nostril. We asked him to point us in the direction of the camp supplies for some tent stakes. He over enthusiastically led us right there, and proceeded to quiz us about it.
He asked, standing close enough to smell what he had for lunch lingering on his breath (I’d put my money on a tuna melt)
“Where do ya plan on camping? Anywhere close?”
I responded as I gave myself some distance,
“Yes and no. We’re road tripping to Virginia and camping anywhere we can along the way”
He proceeded to ask us if we had family or friends out there, if we had ever been there before, what route we’re taking, and what we planned to see.
I answered uninterested yet accordingly
“No we don’t know anyone, just bought some old motorcycles. Thought it’d be fun to put em to the test, and theres some good roads to ride on out that way.”
“And what way is that? I know you said Virginia but where exactly?” the disheveled employee inquired.
“Western Virginia, kinda near Appalachia”
The employee tried hiding a wry smile before continuing, “Well I know some people out there. The locals can be…particular. Especially to outsiders, just a heads up.”
“Im sure we’ll be okay man, thanks for the help” Ethan chimed in, putting himself between the employee and I in an attempt to shoo him off. I looked over Ethan’s shoulder at the clearly annoyed worker to smile and nod as a silent apology for my cousin’s behavior. The employee grinned wide, revealing an array of discolored teeth, seemingly fighting for the spotlight at the front of his mouth to be the first one seen once the crusted pair of lips decided to separate, and sauntered off.
While trying to decide what stakes look like they would hold the steadiest, Ethan asked me “So how would you feel about adding a stop along the way?”
I answered with another question “What for?”
“Just this” Ethan said as he held his phone up to my face to show me a woman’s profile on a dating app.
“Dude no fuckin way! That’s like, the opposite of what we planned this whole trip for” I said rolling my eyes at the notion.
Ethan desperate to convince me with a pleading tone cried “C’mon man! It’s not even like that. It’s barely out of the way and we can just swing by real quick. In and out, if you catch my drift.”
Defeated, I replied with an exasperated sigh “Fuck it, whatever. But she better not end up being your backpack for the rest of the trip…and you’re buying my beer.”
“Deal” Ethan said through a shit eating grin like a kid that got his way at the toy store, before teasing me “want me to ask if she has any friends?”
“Considering I dont want to make this stop at all, I think I’m good” I said dismissively as I turned to leave and add our supplies to our noble steeds awaiting us in the midwestern sun.
As we crawled our way through the Illinois farmland, we watched cornstalks whizz by us for so long it felt like a yellow green TV static in my peripherals. Thinking back, I’m not sure corn ever gets that high, in Illinois or anywhere else for that matter. Tall enough that the melted colors from it almost formed a tunnel around us as we sped through the desolate midwest country. The sun started setting over the crops, Ethan and I would soon have to find somewhere to post up for the night. We found a spot where the pale gravel shoulder of this seemingly abandoned highway widened out, just enough space for us to park and set up. Before I even turn my bike off, Ethan walks over staring at his phone.
“Hey, so uhhh…” I can tell he’s nervous to say what comes next, sounding like he’d be scolded for it, “that girl I showed you earlier? She stays in a town like an hour from here. I think we should ride there tonight and see whats up.”
“You’re joking, right?” I asked sternly through the visor on my once glossy, black, almost lego-like helmet I still have yet to take off.
“C’mooon Derrick an hour is nothing! We can crash as soon as we get there” Ethan said with that aforementioned shit eating grin. That wasn’t going to work on me this time though, I was exhausted. “Yeah, only one more hour after riding for 5. Im cooked for the day man I just want to have my dinner and sleep. We have a whole other day of riding before we’re even in Virginia, we’ll stop tomorrow.”
“Derrick I am literally begging for us to go tonight”
“Yeah Ethan? Im begging you to stop letting your dick try to hijack this trip and let me go to bed. Please don’t make me remind you of why we planned this for the thousandth time”
Ethan just short of pouting now, started walking back to his bike while talking shit under his breath before unpacking.
“I can hear youuu” I shouted in a sing song tone, even though I couldn’t make out the exact insults he was making. “You were supposed tooo” he sang back, mockingly. With the corn being high all around us, it made getting our fire started that much easier. It had a truly looming presence. I felt like it would reach out to grab me if I got too close during one of my piss breaks. Silly thought, isn’t it? Ethan and I started to devour our compact, non perishable, canned food of choice. He stuck with beefaroni while I gifted my elevated palate with some campbells chunky chicken dumplings. Between bedtime treats and gulps of cheap beer, Ethan and I overshared past tales throughout the night. After our stories of debauchery and embarrassment, Ethan decided to rehash our disagreement from when we stopped earlier.
“Why do you seem so against meeting up with this girl anyway? You low key seem jealous”
Pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes closed, I did my best to hold in most, but not all, of my frustration with the question.
“No dude, I’m not jealous. Im fucking annoyed. The entire reason we’re doing this trip together was because you wouldn’t stop asking me to help you get over Natalie. So we bought these piece of shit bikes and set out for ‘adventure’ or whatever”
Ethan scoffed seemingly embarrassed but more so offended at my claim, “I am over Natalie. I haven’t even thought of her until you brought her up just now, so thanks for that”
I responded accusingly “Oh, you’re over it now huh? Whens the last time you tried calling her? Texted her?”
Ethan, growing more frustrated responded “I said I’m over it, so I’m over it, okay?”
My eyes narrowed, “I call bullshit. And you’re trying to use this poor small town girl to fill the void”
“What are you trying to say Derrick?”
“What I’m trying to say is that anytime a woman gives you an ounce of attention and bats her lashes, you become obsessed. Its like that’s the only thing your tiny fuckin brain can focus on”
Ethan snaps back with a scowl “Oh what the fuck ever dude! Just because you’re not over your shit doesn’t mean that I’m not over mine.”
Truly shocked at Ethan’s hurtful, albeit fairly true accusation, I fired back “I planned this whole trip for YOU”
Ethan screaming now, something I’ve yet to hear from him before “WELL NO ONE FUCKING ASKED YOU-“
He was interrupted by a gust of wind forcing its way between the sea of mutant sized crops around us, but we couldn’t feel any breeze. Truthfully I’m not sure if I imagined this next detail, I don’t know if Ethan heard it either since I never asked, but I could have sworn there was a faint falsetto moan coming from the corn. It sounded like a muffled chorus, like this phantom wind felt good whipping between the coarse foliage that hugged the ridiculous sized cobs. As I was looking around for what was making that haunting sound, thats when both of us noticed it. A faint, yet piercing fuchsia glow peeking between the hairline fractures of space through the fields dense corn.
Ethan, without taking his eyes off of the quickly fading flash of light, asks me to confirm he’s not losing his mind “You saw that, right?”
I answered, a little relieved to know that I also wasn’t losing my mind “Kinda hard to miss something like that, the fuck was it?”
“I dunno, maybe a transformer blew or something?” Ethan said grasping at straws to make sense of whatever it was we just saw.
“I don’t think so man, that was…I don’t know. That was weird.”
“Yeah, super weird…we should check it out.” Ethan said, he seemed so taken by the idea.
“Nah man, Im sure the fire department or the cops are on-“
Before I finished my sentence Ethan starts frantically packing his gear up and stuffing it into the cracked leather saddle bags that came original with his 1995 iron horse.
“Ethan what the fuck are you doing?” I said in an almost parental tone. I noticed I spoke that way to him more often than I’d like to admit, but he acted like a brat sometimes, considering he completely ignored my question as he stretched a bungee cord over his faded green sleeping bag on the back rest of his passenger seat, the same one he’s had since we would go camping with our families as kids.
“Ethan stop, it’s the middle of the night what are you thinking?!”
Still no response. He looks back at me before starting his motorcycle, kicking gravel up at me as he rips the throttle and speeds off. The sight of his single tail light shrinking as he grows the distance doubled my heart rate, so I kicked out the campfire and frantically balled up all of my stuff in my sleeping bag before insecurely putting it into my bike’s side bags. Luckily the motorcycle I bought was about 200 more CCs than Ethan’s so before long I was gaining on him, in his beeline to where he thought the glow called him from. Trying my hardest to yell over the screaming motors of the vintage, borderline antique bikes we had, I motioned for Ethan to pull over and stop.