Into the Unknown

Martin

At my shop, I wait impatiently for Shannon to arrive. Glancing at my wristwatch, I realize it's already after noon.

"She should be here soon," I mumble to myself as I clean up my tools, placing them back in their toolboxes.

Repairs at the shop haven't been very exciting. In a quiet town, it's hard to get customers. Liz was one of my last customers, but that was weeks ago. I still haven't informed her that the Mini Cooper is fixed. It was simple, though. The poor vehicle had just gotten overheated.

There's a knock outside the front double-doors – Shannon is waiting there with a guilty look on her face. I motion my arm for her to come in. She walks inside, covering her face from whoever might be watching her outside, concealing her identity from onlookers.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. There was no way I was able to leave until Elizabeth left the hospital." She rolls her purse off her shoulder, leaning over to set it on the floor. Then she realizes that the floors here aren't the cleanest of places to set down personal items, especially such things as handbags.

"No worries. Not like there's anything else I'm doing around here." I point to the hollowness of the garage around us, even though there's an assortment of items organized and put away neatly on shelves and in stacks along the outskirts of the walls. From a first glance, the garage would almost seem spotless, other than the floor beneath someone.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" She crosses her arms, purse swinging from her forearm.

I lead her to the exit door at the back of the shop. We walk through my office and into a small, dimly lit hallway. At the end of the hall is the access door to what I call the "Backyard" where I keep all of the vehicles that I've towed, repaired, and are now waiting to be picked up. Compared to other mechanic shops, I have very few customers.

In the far corner, hidden behind an old Ford pickup, is the car that crashed with James and the chauffeur inside along the highway.

I point towards the truck. Shannon frowns at me. "I don't think that's the car James was in . . ."

"Just wait a second," I say, mixed with a chuckle. "It's behind that pickup."

The crunch of the gravel beneath our shoes is almost too loud for me to even hear my own thoughts as if it's the only sound in the world. Shannon speaks so little that it's almost awkward to be here with her.

My plan to talk with Shannon isn't so much a lie as a . . . what would one call it? A manipulation. But of course, it would be subtle. There's no way Shannon would believe whatever James said after she hears my supposed findings.

As we get closer to the front bumper of the car, which is crushed and morphed from impact with the trunk of a tree, Shannon looks at the vehicle with confusion and wonder.

"Do you know what happened?" Shannon asks as she slowly takes in the details of the damage.

I cross my arms, eyes squinting in the light of the sun. "To be honest, I think something went wrong with the car itself. When I took a look at the underside, I noticed that there was a lot of wear on the brakes. I then made the conclusion that because of the wear on the brakes, that's what caused the car to crash."

Shannon pulls her jacket tight around her, the scarf around her neck brushing the bottom of her chin. "James said he saw something in the road . . . like a figure." Her voice fades as she finishes the sentence, still looking at the car with an expression that looks like disgust.

"There's no way he could've. Or, if he did, it was probably a deer jumping out onto the road, or a rabbit crossing. I mean, think for a second, Shannon. Who would be out in the middle of the highway walking twenty miles away from town?"