I Don't Take Vacations Anymore
We were not even over the state line before I pulled out the jar, mischievous grin on my face like I was holding something sacred. I passed the jar over to my friend Jake in the backseat.
"Roll us up a fattie man, time to relax and feel the road." Sarah just rolled her eyes at us, after what she's been through, she prefers the clear headedness of sobriety, but hey she lets us have our fun.
"you got it shortyshizz" He laughed taking the jar and rolling one up. I felt his nickname was a little cringe, but I let him use it, I've covered his ass on second base enough times by now, were basically conjoined twins on the diamond. "Dude this shit is STANKY, what strain is this?" He asked licking the paper shut.
"What we have here, my good sir, is some fancy....Roadkill Skunk." I reply as he sparks it.
"Fitting." He says taking in the smoke and passing it over the seat to me. I let the sweet pungent smoke fill my lungs and then slow creeping goofyness come into my brain.
"Sure smells like a dead skunk!" Sarah complained holding her nose and swishing a bag of chips around trying to clear the smoke. We all started giggling at that and my mind wandered back to our younger years.
Jake and I may as well have been brothers, and our families joined into one, because that's how we were. My dad is best friends with his dad so they got their homes right next to each others, and my dad made sure I was on his best friends little league team. Makes sense, Jake's dad, Mark, was the best mechanic and the best baseball coach I've ever worked with or played for, well maybe next to our high school coach but that's not important. What was important was the pride I felt, for myself and Jake, earning our bachelor's degree basically on baseball talent alone. So I have a large amount of respect for his dad, hell Mark had even fixed up and sold me the Buick we were using for this post grad trip.
"Hey eyes on the road dopey, you missed our turn off" Sarah poked my arm. I sighed, took another ouff, and since we were the only people on this road today I guess, flipped around and took our proper turn off onto a gravel, two lane sized, small road.
"Yo this is intense stuff Scott, I'm getting mad munchies already." Jake chimed in. Sarah sighing in an over emphasized big sister manner, tossed him a bag of chips and some jerky. She always made sure she took care of us, our big sis.
"You know Jake, you'd think we're married with how much I have to take care of you out and about like this, honestly, if it wasn't for me and Scott you'd be a lost little puppy out here in the real world."
"True, but I bet I'd be a hella sweet one Sarah, you'd scratch my ears right?" He replied taking the snacks. She giggled and lightly grasped his hand as he took the junk food.
"Always, until you fell asleep in my lap. Then I'd boot you right off to go make sweet sweet love to Zach." We all burst out laughing again. No crazy love triangle ever existed within our group. We were two brother and a sister.
As I took another hit I pressed down on the accelerator, I wanted to test the new engine build. As we were hitting a high speed, I felt a small shock under my feet and the car gave a slight shudder.
"Scott, maybe three days into a multi state road trip in the summer isn't the best time to test your rally skills." Sarah said, always the voice of reason. I slowed down shooting Jake a wink in the rearview. He just chuckled and nodded, that knowing nod he always gave me when we knew we were making a double play. The same thing happened as I slowed down, but I decided I'd keep going, we were feeling invincible and I didn't want to let car problems ruin the mood.
The universe however, cared nothing for our mood as the car made a bigger shudder, jolting us in our seats and instantly died, sputtering white-hot steam as it overheating.
I slammed my hands on the wheel in frustration. "What gives Jake, I thought you told me Mark spent three weeks rebuilding this engine?" Jake instantly clenched his jaw and barked back at me.
"Are you questioning my dad's work? Scott you and I both know he would never sell a lemon, let alone let his best shortstop and second baseman drive anything unsafe, how dare you man." He growled, I instantly felt ashamed, I knew his family would never set us up to fail, I was just pissed that our perfect summer was beginning to sour.
"Calm down you two for fucks sake!" Sarah broke in. "Scott, you've been driving like you're trying to get a NASCAR sponsorship this whole time, and we have already driven through two states. This is a rebuild, and it's fucking hotter than a witch's titty out here, it would stand to reason that something like the thermostat would get stuck with your lead foot....no offense but you DO drive like you're in a race....no it's not Mark's fault either Jake, this is normal for a car of this age and use." She instantly cooled the air with her calm explanation.
"Well guess that's fair, thanks Sarah Scott and I would be lost without you." Jake said giving her shoulder an affectionate tap. "Well better assess the damage." Jake said opening his car door.
"I've got just enough battery and one bar of service, I'll see if there's a mechanic that can find us." Sarah said stepping out. I joined Jake and flipped open the hood. After the steam cleared and we took a look at everything, Sarah's explanation was correct, a stuck thermostat. Nothing more than a minor setback in our journey....provided we could get a mechanic and a tow.
As we finished our diagnosis, Sarah began jumping excitedly, proudly waving her phone in the air.
"Found one! And not only can he give us a tow, he's less than twenty minutes away! I'd have never found him if it wasn't for the offline map pin on his shop. He was super nice, and he's on his way, so you boys just cool off and let Sarah handle this." She skipped back to us, and I was re-lighting our joint.
"Well shit man, looks like we'll be back on the road before the cooler warms up, Sarah never fails." Jake said as I passed him the doobie, nodding. As we waited and finished our wacky tobaccy, I let my mind think of her. She had it harder than either of us.
Her parents were killed in a brutal car accident freshman year, her aunt and uncle were left to pick up the pieces, and Sarah, she changed. Before that she was just the girl in our group, the slight tomboy who wanted to be one of the guys. After she moved in with her aunt and uncle, she switched gears. She made sure we always told her where we were going, when we were leaving and getting back, and who we were with. I guess she decided that she would never allow herself to lose anyone again, and Jake and I, we loved her even more for the fierce yet quiet ways she protected the sanctity of our little ring.
As we were burning the last hit and stepping on the crutch, a grey unassuming tow truck came driving up to us. There were no letterings or decals, just some rust in a few places that let me know this guy rarely has to use this vehicle. An older man, going bald on top in grey coveralls that seemed two layers too thick, hopped out and greeted us.
"Hey kids, names Frank, Frank Johnson. Little lady on the phone told me you need a tow for a possible coolant issue? Well you're lucky you had signal, takes a miracle to find my services in a pinch....guess that's what I get for operating out where the secrets stay secret and the rumors never spread."
I thought that a bit unsettling but chalked it up to just an eccentric old country bumpkin who was just happy to have a paying customer.
"why don't you kids climb into the cab and get situated? I'll have this old Buick hooked up shortly so just try and squeeze in best you can." We complied quietly, what choice did we have? I slipped in first, being the middle sized between us it just made sense. Sarah crept into the cab next, with Jake ending the awkward setup closing the door practically on himself. By the time we were buckled in, Frank had finished his work and squeezed his rigid form next to mine. His shoulder rubbed up on me with enough force that I felt....not a normal shoulder, it felt solid and hardened like steel or iron ...again I just shook that aside as some necessary medical procedure for a man with a lifetime spent working on machines far stronger then a human arm.
As we drove a minute, my shifting constantly against Frank's uncharacteristically rigid form, he quipped in with some strange bumpkin banter. He kept telling us things like: "It's lucky your phone had that last bar, no one finds my shop unless they need to find it," and "These trees seem to be getting thicker? These trees know which key needs to turn to get the engine back on the road."
It was cryptic for sure, but fuck it, I was just happy to know our little hiccup was just that....things changed when we arrived at the shop.
We pulled into the yard slowly, slow enough for us to see the twisted forms of cars long past their prime.
"Damn dude, it's like an iron graveyard out there." Jake whispered.
"Everything's been disassembled and ordered as needed, I'll find what makes the keys turn." Frank answered. The tone of his voice—flat, emotionless—sent us all into immediate panic, but we were stuck. We needed him to get us out of this predicament, so we stayed silent as we stepped out into the yard and shambled into the already open bay doors of the shop. A detail I'd wished I'd noticed right then.
We slowly split up exploring the shop as Frank set about getting the Buick set up in the workbay.
"You kids just make yourself at home, old Frankie will get these keys turning again rest assured!" The strange man spoke up, giving our tense group a little bit of ease. I began to explore the shop. It was just your normal single man show, grease rags tossed to a corner, tools strangely in immaculate order....and then my eyes caught sight of the keys...
In one corner, there was a pile of just....keys, all those old to modern fobs...just lying there. I looked up to the pegboard above, there were no current work orders posted...then, why all the keys? Jake poked my arm, and Sarah let out a worried gasp.
"Dude....what the fuck? I know shops, I know what racks hold what....what the fuck are these for?" Jake asked, strikingly sober. My attention turned to the wall on my left. It held cables, hydraulic lifts, and locks that looked....more for a person than anything coming out of the inside of a car.
"You sure don't get many folks getting stranded like this, do ya?" I nervously ask Frank, desperately holding on to hope that I'd get a normal, grounded answer. Again the universe said fuck that.
"Only those I need to, I'll find the ignition that fits the key..."
"Ok, no, fuck this. I'll get us a fucking Uber or something, I'm NOT staying here with this guy and his goddamn keys!" Jake started toward the door, but they quickly slid closed."Fuck you old key master!" Jake yelled, his anger was always his worst friend.Calmly, I looked to Sarah. She was white as a ghost and petrified in stillness. She had already checked.
She whispered with a quiver,"It's locked from the outside....we're trapped guys."
"FUCK ALL OF THIS!" Jake and I screamed in unison, our baseball instincts taking over. We turned ready to fight, we never got the chance. Frank met our faces with a huge tire iron, knocking both of us out clean.
I woke to my head pounding, a small trickle of blood leaking down my face. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, I realized I was strapped to one of those racks. Then I heard the screams.
Jake was screaming in both pain and fierce anger. I was instantly doing the same when I saw him. He had so much blood....he was strapped up like me, and cut open like he was having heart surgery, various wires hooked up into his body, and his legs were held in massive clamps, bending his legs at an impossible angle. What did Frank do? I had no time to process my best friend's situation however, as Sarah's cries snapped me back to the reality on my other side.
I looked back at Jake, his eyes were frantically passing from Sarah to me, he was raw and bleeding around his bonds from desperately trying to get off that rack and save his friends. I turned back to Sarah. I'll never forget her strapped there, a mass of blood and flesh.
She was screaming in pure agony, hearing that from her forced me into absolute rage mode. The sound of the saw cutting into her collarbone, the random wires, and car parts? Yes, car parts were shoved inside her like they were trying to make her a cyborg or something. That's when I noticed Frank, or what used to be a person named Frank. Whatever this was, this was not human.
With his coveralls around his waist, it made sense why he felt so solid. That shoulder was no longer a shoulder. In its place was a large piston, sewn into the tissue with copper wire. All over his body were car parts, swimming in a mass of his flesh. As he continued his morbid work he kept mumbling.
"I'll find the key that turns the ignition. Time to test the chassis."
Sarah was getting weaker, her screams coming out more like shocked gasps with the occasional raise in tone. Jake was looking at me, he had a hand tear free from his restraint. He was giving me the nod, I needed to distract Frank. I needed to cover second.
With everything I had, I took Jake's lead and pulled my glove hand free, mangled to hell, but free. Jake pointed his own wrecked hand to the service bench and the revolver Frank had left out. I prayed the chamber was loaded.
"Hey asshole, why don't you test this chassis, motherfucker!" Jake shot at the monster we called Frank. He looked up with dead, uninterested eyes, devoid of the color of life. He noticed we were getting free and sprang at a speed no man can match.
He smashed Jake's face so hard I thought he'd killed him, then, after restraining his hand, turned to me with a heavy, giant steel clamp. I gritted my teeth as he forced my hand into the vise and twisted. I howlowed in fury and pain, feeling the bones break. He suddenly stopped twisting and turned to Sarah, picking up one of those fucking keys.
I began slamming the clamp against the wall, doing more damage but it was loosening. Jake was manic at this point—how he was even alive was baffling, but that didn't matter. What mattered was he was still breathing, and he needed his base covered. I never let him down before and I wasn't about to now. I watched Frank as he pointed the key into Sarah's now open chest and exposed, beating heart. He tried to turn it and frowned.
"Engine's still cold, need to try a different chassis."Frank went back to dig through those awful keys, and Sarah, with the last of her strength, looked both of us in the eyes.
"Promise me guys....promise me you'll find a way out of...out of....."And that's all she could manage. The life left her instantly and her heart stopped beating.
"SARAH! SARAH FUCK! FUCK YOU FRANK!" Jake cried through his tears. Through my own, I gave her a silent swear that I would keep my promise, just as the clamp broke open.
Frank was turning his attention to Jake now, finishing the opening he needed for whatever it was those keys did. Jake's screams tore through me worse than any of the physical pain I felt, as I used his voice as fuel to dig my mangled hand against the prying lever of the restraints. It wasn't easy, but I managed to get off that rack and grab the gun.
Remembering how fast he moves, and knowing I had zero time, I quietly let him focus on his grisly task, sneaking right behind him. Being a shortstop my whole life has given me a fairly analytical mind, so it wasn't hard to figure out the best spot to point the barrel. I fired into Frank's own exposed, key-turned heart. He didn't fall. He stood limp, all movement and speech gone. Dead? Then I noticed the black mist rising from his chest. It swirled with a strange dark beauty that was hard to take my eyes off. I traced its flow along the garage to Jake, and I noticed it going into the hole in his chest. The key Frank planted began to turn.
I pleadingly looked at Jake, trembling. Like I said, I'm pretty perceptive; I figured out what was happening, but how could I stop it? Jake's eyes locked onto mine. Though they were fading into the same cold look of Frank, he was still enough of himself to give me the nod. I understood. Time for one last double play.
I raised the gun, closed my eyes......and I covered second one final time.
It was silent then, the loudest silence I've ever experienced. I turned from the monster, now hovering over the keys, and I ran. I ran and I cried until I don't know how long. I finally reached a paved road, and from exhaustion, injuries, and maddening grief, I collapsed.
"Explain it to me again, Scott, just so I can cover my bases."The detective said it looking at me with soft sorrow in his eyes—a man who had seen too many traffic deaths, it seemed. From my hospital bed, I recalled the details in the crafted lie I'd made up."We thought we hired a mechanic," I whispered, keeping my eyes fixed on the blank white curtain. "He gave us a tow, but to a backwoods chop shop. There were three of them. Jake tried to fight, so did I... that's how I got put in here with a shattered hand. They shot Jake, and Sarah was caught in the crossfire. I managed to kill the ringleader by struggling for his gun and turning it on him. The other two fled to God knows where. That's the same thing I've told you three times, Officer Dane. So make sure you keep your end of this bargain."
Of course, Scott," he said softly, nodding his head. "I wouldn't let any parent see that."
He shook my uninjured hand and left, letting my family—all of ours—into the room.
My parents came in first, both embracing me tightly and weeping openly. It was strange—I've never seen my dad cry, and seeing that, I broke down too. Then Sarah's aunt and uncle came in, both looking like they'd never have dry eyes again, followed by the one person in our group who, by deciding to keep the rings trip pure and bowing out, survived: Zach. Sarah's fiancé. He was holding his engagement ring and looked completely hollowed out. I couldn't take seeing them, but then Jake's mom entered, followed by a pale, trembling Mark sobbing. He let everyone greet me first, then sat on my bed and gave me a deep, warm hug.
"I'm so sorry kiddo, I'm so sorry!" he choked out, the proud Little League coach completely broken. "If I... if I hadn't sold you that car... you... my boy would be..."
He couldn finish, and I didn't need him to. Placing my bandaged hand on his shoulder, I squeezed gently.
"No, Mark, it's... it's not your fault. It was... just a bad road. Not your fault, coach."
We all sat and cried for a couple of hours after that.
As everyone was piling out, I asked Zach to stay behind. I knew if anyone could handle the truth and not go looking for that garage, it would be him. He was horrified, but he believed me, and he agreed that our parents can never know Sarah's last plea. They can never know just what it cost for their shortstop to cover his second baseman.
Mark's screen door still squeaks after all these years. I'd only just been here yesterday, but we have our little goodbye ritual like this every year. I walk in to see him sitting in his armchair, greying hair, looking smaller than last year. He's watching a pro game on mute.
"Headed home, kiddo? Thanks for stopping in to say goodbye, it's always great to see you," he said, starting to rise. I placed my crippled hand on his shoulder to steady him.
"No, Mark, it's okay, you don't need to get up. I just wanted to say goodbye and to tell you to take it easy on my old man next week. Softball's not the same, but he never played at our level. Just... don't let him twist a knee."
"I'll take care of your old man, rest assured he's in good hands. Make sure you be safe out on the road today, check your fluids and don't go redlining it." He gets somber now, and I can never look him in the face. "Take care of yourself, Scott. I love you."
Tears already forming, I reply meekly.
"I love you too, Mark." The pain building into a crescendo that I won't be able to hold back, I turn my back and head out the door. "I will."
I sit in my car for a while, windows up, no AC. And I let it out, I let it all out. I scream, I cry, and I grieve for them—for Jake and Mark, for my parents, for Sarah and her family. I cry for all of us who carry the weight of survival.
The drive up the little road into the cemetery is always peaceful. As my eyes begin to dry, I step out into the warm summer heat. There are no noisy saws or pumps here, no screams, no terror. Just the birds. I find the stones next to each other, the names I need to see every time I leave here:
Jacob Mark Vance and Sarah Lynn Evans.
I sat down between them, taking out a new white baseball, and a polished glass stone, the kind she liked to collect, and placed them next to the flowers everyone left the day before. I laugh a bit as I pull out the joint and light it.
"I'm back, guys, letting you know how everything is with me. The world's loud, it's fast, but I manage. I kept my promise, I made it out. I'm living for all of us now. Sarah, I always make sure I bring extra snacks and blankets and first aid, you don't need to worry. Jake.... I've got second on lock, man. Go make that double play."
Then I finish my smoke in the warm bask of my friends and until next year, we say goodbye. The drive back home is never a happy one, but it's important that our little ring stays together.
Tragedy usually has a way of dissolving its survivors in grief and guilt. That is why every year I pack my bags, lock the front door, and make this drive back home.
I have a promise to keep. So no...
...I don't take vacations anymore.