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The Rambler in the Park, pt 1. (fiction)
2003-11-15 at 11:04 p.m.

fiction by Indrid-Cold

The Rambler in the Park

"Al Azif's Friendly Auto Sales." She read aloud.

Ren hated that particular habit of Fran's-reading signs out loud at random. At first he hated it because he was sure she was doing it to get his attention, then it changed to just being plain distracting, irritating. Especially at times like now, when they were lost. Really, completely lost.

"Please, hon," he said, "it'd be more helpful to read actual road signs, in case I miss one."

She nodded absently. "It just looked familiar." she murmured.

He glanced at her but let it pass. It was true-they were at least coming into a more populated area, and the very sight of a used-car lot was a relief. He normally didn't panic over things like being lost at all. But this was North Georgia, where they filmed the movie version of James Dickey's "Deliverance", and visions of redneck buttrape as depicted in that film had been plaguing Ren for the last hour and a half as they roamed the two lane country roads trying to find some sign of civilization, habitation, to hang their hopes on.

He shook his head. Dad and his fucking maps. 'Here, me and mom used this when we took our driving trip to Florida, it was great.'

The driving trip they'd taken 30 years ago, before Georgia decided to do some insane overhauls of it's roads, it's interstates, and even it's towns.

The thick pine forest was dwindling, and they began to see an odd trailer here and there-over the next hill was another sign-hand lettered, with a partial phone number on it. "S. Thu Loo-Oriental Massage, 313 Arkham Street, Dagon Georgia." Read Fran.

At this Ren surprised himself by laughing-"Daggone, we's in Georgia!" he said in a mock hillbilly drawl, his impression cultivated in every encounter they'd had with convenience store clerks since crossing the Virginia border two days before.

Fran laughed, if rather absently. She had the map open again. "No."

"What?" asked Ren.

"Not on the map. Dagon Georgia." she re-folded it, mindful of the places where the old creases were tearing, placed the map back in the glovebox.

"That's not a surprise, hon. Shit, maybe Dagon wasn't even on the census till 10 years ago."

"Yeah. And now they have oriental massage. Look what those Olympics in '96 brought to Georgia."

He laughed again, nodded.

They both missed the green sign as they drove on in the gathering dusk-DAGON, GA, pop 1-the last digits obliterated by a hole that appeared to have been made by acid more than buckshot.


Their little Hyundai broke down just off the town square.

There was no warning, no rattle, no steam or smoke. Ren had just rolled through a flashing yellow light, he and Fran both noting aloud the remarkable stillness of Dagon Georgia at sunset. They'd passed through other little towns on this trip, and all of them to some degree had activity, either on the roads or sidewalks or both. Though they'd passed trailers, crossed into the town, begun to pass lovely civil war era houses, they'd seen no one. Ren kept feeling as if there was activity, just on the periphery of his vision, but for some reason he was just missing it.

"Shit. Shit. SHIT." He slapped the steering wheel. The car had not stalled, and he'd managed to steer it with some real effort into what looked like a parking lot beside a shady grove of Georgia Pines. The sign 50 feet from them said "DAGON WAR MEMORIAL" and in the gloom they could see there was a small list of names beneath those larger letters. There was something odd about the sign, though Ren, but the thought passed as he confronted the car problem.

"What the hell?" Fran looked around for the cell phone. "I thought you had this thing looked at before we left."

"I did, dammit," he bit the words off, "and it got a clean bill of health."

She shot him a look he recognized as her 'yeah sure, whatever' look and looked down to pull the cell from where she'd stowed it between the passenger seat and armrest. She flipped the little phone open and pressed the power button.

Nothing.

Ren sighed. "Did you charge the phone?"

"Yes, I did." she responded coolly. She pressed the button again. Nothing. No chime indicating it was powering up. Her lips twisted as she dropped the phone in her lap and opened the little storage compartment in the armrest. She withdrew the car charger and plugged it in. She connected the phone. "Look, Ren, it'll take an hour for the thing to re-charge and then we can call a tow, okay?"

He shook his head. "Oh yeah, and have our mechanic fix it by tomorrow. That'll work. We don't fucking know where we are."

The line between her eyebrows was enough to stop him.

"Sorry." he said. He didn't feel it, but he also knew now was a rotten time to argue.

"That's odd." Fran said softly, more to herself than him. She was looking at the phone.

"What?"

She held it up. When the cell phone charged there was supposed to be a little battery graphic that flashed. When the phone was juiced it was supposed to give a beep and the graphic stop flashing.

The phone was still dead.

It occurred to Ren that for no good reason he'd not tried to re-start the car. He turned the key.

Not even a click.

"This is fucked." he hissed. He looked up at Fran. She had lay the phone down, and was looking out the passenger-side window. Dark had fallen, and streetlights in the tiny town square were flashing on one by one.

"Why isn't there anyone out here?" she asked aloud.

Ren scanned the square, the park. There wasn't anyone in sight. Behind them sat what he was sure was the courthouse. It was small for it's kind, but still had a certain Grecian ornateness. Lights were on all around the courthouse. And there were several cars parked beside it. From the profiles of two of them he figured they were police cruisers. Shouldn't at least one of them be out cruising on patrol, even if just to catch wayward out of towners like them speeding through?

He turned back to Fran. She was looking at him, her look direct but otherwise hard to read in the dark. "We're both asking the same question, right?"

She nodded. Then, as if breaking out of a stupor she shook her head once, sharply. "Shit, baby. There's a payphone around here somewhere. And doesn't every tiny town like this have at least one fast food place on the outskirts? If we have to we can walk there."

He nodded, and realized he'd released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He made sure he had his credit card and some of their cash. She kept the rest in her purse.

They got out of the car.

That was when they heard it.

Nothing.

"Wow." said Ren. "Talk about the peaceful quiet country night."

Fran only nodded. He scanned the town square again, the momentary relief he'd just felt at her common-sense resolve vanishing. Then he heard her inhale, sharply. "What?"

"Somebody's in the park." she whispered this, a stage whisper.

Ren shook his head. "What? Fran-that's good news. Unless it's Rod Serling."

She looked at him and allowed herself a smile, but only for a moment. "I mean, as we were getting out I looked over that way-" she pointed to a stand of pines that had obviously been purposely planted at some point in the past by their orderly arrangement-"and saw what looked like the shadow of someone walking toward us."

Toward us. That bothered Ren, but he pushed the feeling away. He looked in the same direction and saw no motion in the dark. Stillness still ruled. He patted his pocket. There he felt the bulk of his camp knife, slipped in just before getting out. She wouldn't have liked him making it a point to grab it, but it made him feel a little better. "Come on, babe. Let's get our bearings and find some place to sleep for the night."

Walking side-by-side as close as they comfortably could they set off across the little parking lot.

Fran glanced back at the park, their little car alone on the pavement. It seemed to her as they moved away that regardless of the street lights, the dark flowed over the car. Almost sensuously. She shivered and shook her head. Ren placed a long arm around her shoulders and they walked on.

For the first time in memory, his closeness was no comfort.

In the pine stand, in the park behind them, there was movement.

And briefly the light reached into the heavy darkness there.

As It moved, it glistened.

(...to be continued; to go straight to pt. 2, click here. To go to part 3 click here....the conclusion is here.)




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