The Last One Home

Part 15

Max would cover the last few miles of his journey without any further incidents. It was if whatever unseen force that was trying to keep him from getting home had moved on to some other poor sucker.

The snow had completely stopped. The plow trucks were finally getting a handle over the storm. His stolen car held up admirably.

When he approached the city limit, his heart began to soar. He immediately recognized the hulking powerplant with its welcome sign emblazoned on the east side to welcome visitors. Beyond it was more of the industrial side of town. Just blank grey buildings and the occasional empty lot.

Passing through two stoplights, (both blinking yellow at this time of night) he entered the aging east side residential area. It seemed like no'one could keep a fresh coat of paint on these houses and the sidewalks were crooked and cracked. 

Making a hard left, he took the car up to double the speed limit towards his old neighborhood. He ignored the few stop signs that would've slowed him down. As he neared his mother's block there was a shift in the quality of houses. He saw the well manicured lawns of the people whom his mother referred to as the neighbors. These houses have shutters that hang straight and driveways that lead to attached garages.

Max struggled with the idea that any sort of violent crime could occur in this neighborhood. That sort of thing happened in other places but not around here.

The police car was the first thing he saw when his childhood home came into view. Parked close to the curb, it had no lights activated. It appeared to be empty. Max was encouraged that it was just a single car. He had feared he would find a dozen police vehicles and a house draped in police tape.

The second thing he saw was the black pickup in the driveway, its drivers door still hanging open. He didn't recognize the truck and something about it made his blood turn to ice and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

His sister's car parked to the left of the truck was a comforting sight. His mother's suv was just ahead of his sister's car, nearly touching the closed garage door. If both cars are here than certainly they are home, he thought.

Max steered the car into the driveway and skidded to a stop directly behind the truck. Stepping out of the car, he took a hard look at his mother's house. He remembered chasing his sister through the front yard playing tag. He could picture his father riding the old lawn mower while his mother tended to the flowerbeds. It was quiet and dark. A dog barked down the street.

He had made it home.