Disappearance (9 page)

The road has a few twists and turns that I'm quite familiar with. The car was going fast and had about a forty-five-second start on me but with Abby's BMW and my knowledge of the road I might be able to catch up.

Time is against me as it's only a couple more miles until the highway. After that it's pure guesswork whether or not they went on the highway.

One mile to go. I would have thought I'd see a glimpse of the car by now. They must be going really fast! I make my way into the speed trap town where the speed limit drops from forty-five to twenty-five miles per hour. There's a semi-hidden spot where the police car always hides.

I see the exit ramp in the distance and guess that's where they're going. I remind myself to continue looking around just in case they don't make it onto the highway. If they are headed there, I'll almost certainly see them because both sides of the highway stretch for a few miles before there's a turn to take them out of sight.

I take the first exit ramp and head east. It's a coin toss whether they went east or west so I choose east because it's the first exit. As I make it onto the highway, I see nothing but emptiness in front of me. I look behind me but there's nothing in the other direction either. Did they continue on and not go on the highway?

With nothing in front of me, I turn the car around and head west driving on the opposite side of the road. Even though there aren't any cars, the feeling is quite exhilarating. The fear is still there that a car might come around and crash into me head on. I step on the gas anyway and see I'm going ninety-five miles per hour. After the bend I can see two miles ahead but don't see any sight of the black car. It's at this point I decide to give up.

As much as I hate driving away from the first sign of human life I've seen, I turn back east knowing the car is long gone by now. If they were desperately searching for human life, they would have looked over in the parking lot and seen me. Instead they drove carelessly without even glancing over. Still, I wonder what compelled them to drive so fast?

It seems wise now to get home and hide my stolen goods. I was convinced I've been alone, but now I know that isn't true. There's at least one other person and maybe more.

Now that I know someone is here, I wonder if leaving town is such a good idea. After all, I do have food, water, and my own bed to sleep in here. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before I see someone again. I have the rest of the day to think it over. I wasn't planning on leaving until tomorrow anyway.

As I drive home, I find myself in a great mood. Seeing that car convinced me everything is going to be all right. I look around everywhere almost anticipating seeing another car. I never do but it doesn't depress me like it did before. I know it's only a matter of time before I see one again.

The ride home has the same scenery I've become accustomed to. It still feels like those early morning weekend drives to the grocery store when nobody else is awake yet. I pull into my driveway and push the garage door opener again, expecting it to open. When I realize it still doesn't work, I go through my new garage-opening routine and make sure to close the door so Cujo can't get in.

The moment I step in the door I realize how exhausted I am. I'm also very hungry; committing felonies seems to work up an appetite.

I do feel bad about breaking the department store's front door. I'm sure that will cost a lot to repair, not to mention all of the goods I stole. I wonder if I should own up to the crime. After all, I'm going to have to get the trunk repaired and I'm sure they'll ask questions. If they do find out I did it, I think I have a valid excuse.

I go to the garage and grab some cereal and water. I haven't been this hungry in my entire life. When I'm done, I lie down and fall asleep.

When I wake up I instinctively try to check the time, forgetting again the power is out. I go to the garage to check the car's clock. It says it's just after one o'clock, which means I must have had a really long nap. Now seems better than ever to start siphoning some gas. I'm still not 100% committed to leaving in the morning, but either way I want to have more gas at my disposal. I grab the siphon kit out of my car and bring it inside to figure out how it works.

As smart as I am with computers and programming, I'm a complete moron when dealing with handiwork. The siphon kit doesn't seem to too tough though, and after a couple minutes, I think I have it set up correctly.

Just to make sure, I grab a couple bowls out of the kitchen and pour a bottle of water into one of them. After just a few pumps, all of the water has transferred from one bowl to the other. Wow, that worked better than expected!

I get an empty gas tank as well as my pellet gun and ax. The pellet gun is something else to figure out before I leave, although, like the syphon, it seems simple. I figure out how to load it then decide to go in the backyard and test it out. One of the neighbor's trees seems like a good target. I could aim at one of my own trees, but why mess up those when I know the neighbors aren't home?

I have no clue how powerful this is going to be. I've shot a BB gun, which is barely enough to kill a fly. I also shot a rifle once as a kid, which felt hard enough to blast my shoulder off. I'm hoping a pellet gun is closer to the latter, because if Cujo is inches away from attacking I'd rather blow him into pieces than see him smile and keep coming after me.

I take aim – which at this distance should be an easy target even for me – and fire. The kickback is minimal; if a BB gun kills a fly then this feels like it might kill a wasp. What a huge disappointment! It almost feels useless, but just powerful enough that I'll still take it with me. Ready to go now, I grab my gas jug and head out to commit my next crime.

My street doesn't have many cars on it but there are a few. The first one is a black Escalade about four houses down. I hope this gas-guzzler still has a little something left in the tank.

I open up the gas tank and put in one end of the tube, placing the other end inside my empty gas jug. I start pumping but nothing comes out. Am I doing this right? I just tested it so I know I am. I switch ends and pump again but that doesn't make any difference either. I throw up my hands in disgust. I have no idea why it isn't working.

I think about it from a scientist's perspective. The only variable that changed was using the car instead of bowls. I'd be a moron if I blamed the issue on the gas jug, so it has to be something with this Escalade causing it to fail. Maybe it doesn't have any gas, although that seems unlikely.

Then I recall a few years back when gas prices spiked, and more and more cars started developing safety measures so people couldn't steal gas. My parents' car had a button you had to press from the inside just to get the gas lid to open. Perhaps Mr. Big Black Escalade has some kind of contraption that prevents me from getting to the gas with a hose. I don't know how that would be possible, but I decide to test my theory on another car. A few more houses down is an ugly-looking house with high grass and in desperate need of a paint job. My eyes light up though, because I see four vehicles parked in the driveway.

A very old-looking Mustang is the perfect test for my theory. They definitely didn't have special gas-stealing prevention features back then.

I've seen this car making its way up and down the road occasionally, so I'm guessing there's gas in it. I open up the tank, put the siphon in, and start pumping. Much to my delight, gas starts spewing into my jug. I'm now officially a gas stealer! I pump as fast as I can, trying to get every last drop. The owner will be in for a rude surprise the next time they start their car. I manage to fill up almost the entire five-gallon tank. That's a free 150 miles tacked onto my drive.

Since I forgot to take more than one gas tank with me, I make my way back home. The smell of the gas - as most people who aren't afraid to admit would agree - is quite pleasant. I'm not about to start inhaling it for long periods of time, but a little sniff takes my mind off of things for a moment.

When I make it home, I decide to fill Abby's car up. As I'm pouring, I forget I'm not going to get that nice automatic shutoff you have when you use a gas station nozzle. Before I have time to react, gas starts flooding out and spills onto the floor. Oh well, I guess I really have a full tank now.

I don't have the muscles to carry all the jugs at once so I decide to take two at a time and make two trips. The first trip goes well, taking the rest of the gas from Mustang man's other three vehicles. I pretty much wipe out all of the gas from his cars. He will be screwed the next time he wants to go somewhere.

I put the two full gas jugs in my trunk and then grab the other two. Once I get these filled up, I'll have twenty gallons of spare gas on top of the full tank I have in my car. That's about nine hundred miles under normal conditions. Considering all the weight of the supplies, I make a conservative estimate of 750 miles – enough to get me halfway across the country.

When I head out this time, I know I'll have to go down one street to get these two gas jugs filled up all of the way. If I wanted to, I could take a short drive down to Mill Road. I would be sure to find some old, beaten down cars there. Abby and I had the pleasure of making our way there when we first moved into the neighborhood. We went on a nice stroll around the surrounding area just to get a feel for the community and were pleasantly surprised by how many nice houses there were. That was until Mill Road and its community of trailer parks with rebel flags hanging proudly from many of the front porches.

The next street over from my house doesn't have many cars parked outside, but there are a few. Most of them are parked on the road, which is perfectly legal. I make my way over to the first car I see, a white Ford Taurus. I'm not sure what year it is, but it's nothing recent so I open the gas cap and get my siphon into position. I'm getting ready to start pumping when something startles me.

"Meow"

I look down and see a black cat that looks very similar to the one I saw yesterday.

"Well hello there, little fella. You scared me half to death."

The cat rubs its head against my leg. I'm not a cat person but I'll admit this is cute so I bend down and scratch its head.

"Where did you come from; I didn't even see you?"

"Meow"

I guess asking a cat a question is going to get a short response. As I continue petting her, a sudden realization occurs to me. I forgot to bring my pellet gun and ax! I knew I felt like I was forgetting something. I set them down next to the car when I was filling up my tank and never picked them back up. How could I be so stupid?

I debate whether I should go back or hurry up and get these tanks filled.

"What do you think I should do?" I ask the cat and don't even get a response this time.

I decide to hurry up and finish this jug and come back to fill the other one up later. I go back to pumping the gas from the Taurus while my little feline friend watches. I get the entire five-gallon jug filled without the car going empty. I'm starting to get more anxious that Cujo could be right around the corner.

Since I'm already here, I might as well fill up as much as I can from the Taurus into the other jug.

"No offense, but if Cujo comes I hope he's much more interested in you," I say looking down at my new friend. "I don't feel like having another sleepover at a neighbor's house." I pump faster and faster, but it's taking forever this time. My anxiety levels are through the roof. I really don't want to see Cujo again.

"Come one. Come on. Come on!" When the jug is half full I decide I can't take it another second. I pull the siphon out of the tank, screw the cap back on the gas jug, and make my way back home. I can always drive here - or elsewhere - later when I'm equipped with some protection.

I speed walk as fast as one can while carrying this much weight in each hand. I look back to see if my feline friend is coming but she's sniffing what is likely a few drops of gas I spilled on the road. Can't blame her.

If I wasn't in such a hurry I might consider taking her home with me. I could use a friend right now, even if it is someone with only one word in their vocabulary.

As I make it onto my street, I look to see if there's any sign of Cujo. I can just imagine him coming from far in the distance the same way he did yesterday, but he's nowhere to be found. My heart rate still doesn't slow any until I pull the garage door up, take one final look, and close it from the inside. The light from the outside fades away and leaves me in darkness. I am safe once again.

During the next few hours I face near-uncontrollable boredom. It's amazing how slow time goes when there's nothing to distract you. I make frequent trips from the couch to the car to check the time and, to my astonishment, what feels like hours ends up being only about thirty minutes.

With every trip I make to the car, I also grab some form of a snack whether it's cereal or some crackers. I think the only reason I'm eating is because of sheer boredom. At this rate I'm going to run out of food by the end of the week.

When five o'clock rolls around I try to think of something productive to do for the next few hours before the sun goes down. Nothing comes to mind so I go to the car and grab one of the books I picked up at the department store. I read for about twenty minutes but find it hard to concentrate. My head is swirling with thoughts about what I should do next.

As boring as these last few hours have been, I think it's helped me make my decision about what to do tomorrow. I can't imagine sitting around all day with nothing to do, so I'm definitely leaving here. I don't know what's in store for me hundreds of miles away but it has to be better than this.

I grab my map and start planning my new trip. Since it's fall in Ohio and getting colder by the day, it's a no-brainer to go somewhere warm. The first ideas that come to mind are Myrtle Beach, South Carolina; Florida; Alabama; and Los Angeles.

I've been to Myrtle Beach a million times for family vacations and seem to know my way around there.