Mila Santos Is (Not) Dead

xix: a traveler, alone on the open road

MILA PULLED INTO the parking lot of an empty Halloween store. She dug through her duffel bag and pulled out her Illinois license plates, one state early. Rubbing her bruised, bloodied knuckles, she pulled off the Indiana plates and screwed on the new ones.

    Getting back into her car, she drove to the gas station a couple blocks down the road. She hopped out and hoped the cop couldn't find her. As she walked inside, she shoved her hands in her pockets. Caffeine. She needed caffeine. Stat. And she didn't care how she got it.

    Mila barreled through the gas station to the back refrigerated wall. She scanned the shelves until she found the goods: energy drinks. Shoving one in her pocket, she made her way to the far corner of the shop where they housed a coffee station and poured herself half a cup. She'd dump the energy drink into the rest. She was unhinged and desperate times called for desperate measures.

    Her arms full of caffeinated beverages, she headed to the register and piled them on the counter. She added an energy shot to the stash.

    The cashier raised an eyebrow at Mila as she rang her up. She reeked of cigarettes. Tattoos arched up both her arms. "You're gonna get yourself killed with all this caffeine, kid."

    "And is that any of your business?" Mila had had a rough day.

    The cashier shrugged. "Guess not." She plopped the energy shot and drink into a plastic "thank you" bag.

    Mila forked over a twenty dollar bill. The cashier handed her her change and receipt. Mila shoved them into her wallet, swung the bag over one arm, and took hold of her coffee.

    "Thank you." Mila smiled at the cashier, though her eyes were empty and hollow. She may have had a rough day, but she had been raised right. "Have a nice day."

***

    BACK IN THE SAFETY OF HER CAR, Mila poured the energy shot and drink into her coffee, giving it a hearty stir. She took a swig. She was ready to fight God.

    Adrenaline from punching a cop still buzzed through her veins, deafening the effects of the motion sickness medicine. Her blood tingled. Her head spun, her breathing coming in ragged gulps.

    The shot of near straight caffeine sang in her bloodstream. She knew this was temporary and the effects would soon wear off. She needed to get as far away from Indiana as she could before she hit another wall.

    She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel. Her knuckles were a fiery shade of red, dried blood plastered to the outer edges of the bruise.

***

    THE HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF St. Louis. Traffic rolled to a stop. Mila stretched her fingers and rolled her head on her neck. What should have been a five hour drive had turned into an all-day affair. Nearly every hour, she hit a wall. She didn't know if it was the adrenaline wearing off, the motion sickness medicine kicking in, or a caffeine crash. Maybe it was all three.

    Sitting in the slow crawl of traffic, Mila watched as the Gateway Arch appeared on the horizon. Slowly, it grew until she passed it and it steadily decreased. There were no fireworks or confetti to mark her entrance into the West. The arch was an otherworldly silver curve against the night sky—an alien McDonald's. Mila's stomach growled. Except... it was more like the ring of an alien spaceship. It only had one arch, after all. Mila's stomach growled again. What was she craving? Martian?

    Soon, the Arch disappeared from her sight. An odd sense of calm washed over her.

She had passed the Gateway to the West.