Backseat Drivers

Midnight Cafe

A green shine emitted from the 7/11 sign, the only source of light in the midst of the dark fog occupying the road. In luminous blue letters below, read 'MIDNIGHT CAFE', a cold invitation into the coffee bar, but one that seemed welcoming to anyone who'd been driving long enough to find it. Stirring from his sleep, Roy stretched out, mumbling something illogical as he surfaced to waking state. Fuzzy stars danced around his vision until he'd established where they'd stopped, and the car door slammed shut as whoever had been driving climbed out. Then came a rap at the window and he turned his head, slumbered confusion as Calum's face registered in his mind.

"We're stopping, dickheads. Out you get."

-

For a place with such a tacky, commercial-based exterior, the midnight cafe was tastefully coloured inside, with a purple light floating around and twinkly lights neatly stapled around the door. Several tables made up the seating area of the small bar, with old coffee cups discarded next to ripped sugar packets. It was adjoined to the 7/11 as well, a gap in the parting wall leading to the counter and three rows of fuelling confectionary for late night drivers to revitalise their energy. Sean and Aika had stayed in the car - both still recovering from their most recent psychedelic experience, as the others ventured in to the station, keen to get away from the vehicle momentarily.

"Midnight Cafe Menu," mused Cindy, scanning the laminated list of coffee-types, breathing out a laugh as her eyes fell on an option. "Hey, you can get a vodka espresso."

"Fuck me up," Roy answered humorously, mocking imploration in his voice. He was sat on one of the wooden chairs, leaning back whilst subconsciously tearing up the corners of a sugar packet.

"Or perhaps sir would prefer Jack Daniels in his coffee, for that extra edge of sophistication."

"No way do they have Jack Daniels," Roy scoffed, and Cindy spun the menu round in her hand for show of proof.

"Think again."

At the counter, Calum was buying more cigarettes - he'd not finished his first pack, though it was best to be prepared. He'd need to stock up before returning to England though; it was a pain relying on other people for them. They were practically silver dust if you didn't have older connections, and even then they were twice the price. As he waited for the cashier to confirm the purchase on some 80s-level-crappy machine, he stole a glance through into the coffee bar where Cindy was laughing with Roy. Her face was illuminated by the lavender glow, the tiny star studs in her ear shimmering a little as they caught the light.

'Oh, when you gonna come come home Cindy

When will you be homeward bound

There an empty space since you left this place

Cindy, my Cindy'

That wasn't a joke, the song was genuinely playing in the background of the store, too quiet to distinguish the lyrics if you didn't know it.

'Cindy, love was made of give or take'

"Excuse me, sir. You can take your cigarettes now."

Calum turned his head back to the cashier, registering for a moment before nodding in acknowledgement, and pocketing the pack.

"Cheers."

-

Sean knew he hadn't taken enough earlier - but he wanted to eek out what remained of the stash in Roy's rucksack. A hefty amount, it must be admitted, but he'd started to expand his doses, and he'd especially need a lot for the Eurostar back. A vague euphoric sense still inhabited him, though he knew it was fleeting; he'd become accustomed to the oscillating emotions and recognised their fickle nature. The world was grey again, white noise breathing through his ears, and a dull, heavy knowledge that he was back.

"Aika man, it doesn't last. Why doesn't it last?"

He was still sprawled in the back, though he lazily propped himself up as he asked this question, a dismay in his tone. It irritated him even more when she responded with pixie laughter, ringing like an impish bell in his head and crawling onto his nerves.

"Relax, Sean," she giggled, absent-mindedly bending her fingers around each other in abstract shapes, before creating a triangle and bringing it to her left eye. She whispered in a fearful voice, so hoarse that it was mocking: "the illuminati won't be pleased."

"Fuck sake," Sean muttered, his vexation met by more laughter. Fed up, he got out of the car, and leant against the door as it closed, then slid down until he was balanced on his hunches. It was enough of a drag to be grounded right now, but with Aika clearly still influenced by the hallucinogenics, a pure irritation was spreading. He wasn't annoyed at Aika, he was annoyed at the useless nature of his own built-up tolerance. Within him was a strange feeling of discomfort, like a physical manifestation of his impatient mind.

'Look at the moon.'

Creamy, it hung in the sky amongst the black inkiness, holding a reassurance to Sean as he locked his gaze onto it. He needed the moon; it washed over him in cool control. Then he closed his eyes, and breathed in, chilly air prickling his skin - not noticing a presence beside him until her silvery voice spoke up.

"Sean?"

He glanced next to him, where Cindy was knelt, her eyes round with grave concern - pale.

"Mm?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm tired," he replied, and he didn't even mean it until the words escaped his lips. He hadn't realised the deep bags residing under his eyes, and the feeling of fatigue was so familiar to him.

"Why are you sat on the floor?"

"Because, Cindy, I hate how grey everything is."

She looked at him, hiding the alarm at how nonsensical even his sober speech had become and tried to coax him into normalcy again.

"But look - there's a green light there, and there's purple light inside. You should go in and look, it's cool."

"I can see it," Sean replied with difficulty, rubbing his hand across his head as if having some sort of internal conflict. "It's all nulled, I just need it to be a bit more vivid. Hey - can you ask Roy to get the shrooms out of his bag?"

His demeanour changed at the notion, and she couldn't help looking into his curious eyes with a regret at his dependancy.

"I don't think you should have anymore."

"No - no, it's fine. I'm just bored, I feel grey and heavy. I just need a few."

She shook her head, and his face turned into a picture of confusion.

"Why not?"

"You need to stop now," she whispered, her voice tinged with worry.

"You can't get addicted to them, Cindy, don't worry."

It wasn't how addictive the shrooms were, Cindy had now realised. It was their power combined with her friend's detestation for reality, and the brief escape they provided that was addictive. Sadly, she shook her head again.

"No."

"Cindy, the moon won't be out forever, and each moment I spend feeling grounded, I feel my brain receding into utter boredom. I'm gonna need them sooner or later."

As he looked back up at the moon, his head leant softly on the car door she watched him ruefully for a few seconds.

"Okay," she finally nodded. "I'll go ask Roy."

-

When she walked back into the midnight cafe, Roy was sipping at his sweetened Americano, and Calum his vodka espresso. They both looked up when she sat at the table, her voice firm and unchangeable, but low with urgent secrecy.

"We need to get rid of them. Now."