Night Shift

Chapter 22

A car drives by. It's sudden, there was no sign of a vehicle heading our way at all. It makes Laura and I both jump out of fright.

The car heads down the main road and out toward the city exit. I feel crazy, but it almost looks like there's no one behind the wheel. Even crazier, it's the first time in ages since I've heard a car drive by at all. Almost every night I go and lay on the highway just outside of The Myriad's and never have to worry about anything coming my way.

"The city must be waking up," Laura says, still looking in the direction the car is going. It's gone now, I can't see it at all.

The sun is slowly making an entrance. The sky's colour has lightened up in tone, a paler blue. There's still no sunlight yet, though.

Within 30 minutes, we make it out of the city limits, made official with the sign on the side of the road that proudly states "THANKS FOR STOPPING BY. COME BACK SOON!"

I remember many years ago seeing the sign on my way out with Mum. I thought I saw graffiti all over it, ineligible scribble here and there, but now it's all gone, like it was erected only a few minutes ago.

The hum of the mines has dulled down significantly. There have been no other cars since that one earlier; I can't hear any movement from the city at all.

"Is that it, up there?" Laura asks, pointing out into the distance.

I look where she's pointing and confirm with a nod. It's across the road

We keep walking on the side we're on for a few more minutes, and then cross over to the other side.

We reach the beginning of a dirt pathway, a long and rocky path that goes out to the base of a hill. The path has been made due to the cars going out on this road over and over again, two strips of bare ground separated with a middle line of yellowed grass. The horizon is complimented with an array of rolling hills, all luscious and green, especially with the gradual lighting coming over the city.

The one closest to us, the one that the path leads to, was used to build a cell phone tower. A gravelly road was made from the bottom and curved its way around, behind the hill and up to the top. It was made for vehicles to drive up there, electricians who were contracted to look at the tower and maintain it every once in a while. No one was supposed to use it except for the contracted workers, but eventually everyone discovered it, and it's since been used as a walking track.

"Well, let's see if we can climb it before the sun rises," Laura says.

We walk down the path together, Laura taking one side of the bare strip, and me taking the other. The grass that's in the middle tickles and lashes at my ankle. The path feels solid, there's no give under my weighted footsteps. No crunching of gravel or anything. Laura doesn't seem to notice the oddity. She has been staring at the hill like she's approaching a wake.

"Oi!" I say.

Laura laughs, but not in her usual way. It sounds soft, weak. She's reminiscing on something.

"That's the first thing you ever said to me," she says. "'Oi!'" She did a very poor impression of my voice, not that she's trying to be accurate or anything.

"Are you feeling OK?" I ask.

Laura nods. "I'm just getting a bit tired, I've been up all night driving and what not."

"Is that all?" I say.

"Not entirely. I'm going back to my mum: I wonder what she's doing right now."

"Have you ever tried looking her up, or anything?" I ask. "No social media or anything?"

"She despises it," Laura responds. "She hates how everyone is on their phone; she believes that this is the dystopian future we should be worrying about. So, there's no point in looking her up. She's just completely vanished."

Her voice is starting to get shaky, yet nothing in her facial expressions give any sign of sadness.

"Where do you think she went?"

She thinks, her face remaining neutral, and then she breaks into a smile. "We used to talk about our dream place. If we won the lottery, and we could go anywhere we wanted, where would we go for a holiday?

"She always wanted to go somewhere extravagant: Paris or Milan or something. Someplace really artsy.

"I wanted to go somewhere more secluded: like renting a cabin in the Austrian Alps, or a farmhouse up in Iceland."

"I'd probably do the same as you," I say.

"I'm not naïve, but sometimes I like to believe that she went to her dream place. She needed a break from us or something, and decided to spoil herself, but she loved the dream place so much that she decided to stay permanently. If that's the case, then she'll be permanently happy.

"Other times I think she could potentially be dead. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I'd never know. That thought disturbs me a lot, and it's one that occurs more often than any of my other scenarios."

A tear streams down the side of her cheek.

I feel like I should be giving her a hug, or hold her hand, but something tells me that this is the last thing she wants.

"I miss her so fucking much," she sniffles. More tears are streaming down, her chin quivering like a jackhammer. "I would be fine with all of it, if I just got an explanation. Just a few words to justify why she did what she did, and I can put my mind at ease for the rest of my life."

This lights up another memory. I was on the phone, I was really angry. I think I may have sworn at whoever was on the receiving end of the call. The memory doesn't capture the feelings of whoever I was yelling at.

Why haven't I thought of these brief moments before? How come they are coming out now? They don't feel like they're a part of me; I'm experiencing someone else's life. That's the only explanation I can think of as to why I've never thought about them before.

Laura grabs my hand. The sides of her face have wet streaks from the crying. Her smile has returned, the quivering of her chin has stopped.

"You should look for her," I say.

"My mother?"

I nod. Laura shakes her head. "It won't be possible."

"And why's that?"

I realise we are at the base of the hill. The dirt path turns into a path made of tar, snaking its way up the face of the hill. There are extremely faint white lines marked on both sides of the road. It's a narrow path; only one vehicle could go up at a time.

I feel a sense of dread wash over me. This is the last venture for Laura and I. What's going to happen to us after this? Will she pretend to not see me when we cross paths? Will I ever see her again? I've never seen her before, there's a good chance I won't afterwards.

"Are you ready?" Laura asks. She's looking at me; her eyes are piercingly green right now. I can see through her. I can see her Mum walking out of the house, never to return. I can feel the heat and anger that she has dealt with for many years. I can feel the lost and the pain, the good times and the bad times, the constant loneliness that she has always felt.

It never goes away, loneliness. It's a concept that lingers wherever you go, peeking over your shoulder, waiting for you to say good-bye to your friends and head home. It's always there to wrap its arms around you the very second you're on your own.

"I don't want to do this," I say, practically pleading. "I don't know what's going to happen."

Her thumb is circling the space between my thumb and index finger. "It will be devastating if you stay here and never find out. Come with me, please."

I take a deep breath; my eyes start to sting. I take a step forward, and then another, Laura following beside me.