Wheeler's Road c1

I had just come onto that straightaway outside of Bakersfield where the road seems to go on forever. We had just dropped a trailer loaded with boxes at a factory in Van Nuys and were trying to make up time down the back roads. On this section of Highway 125, pretty much no one travels unless they are going to Central Arizona. They were some rough spots in the asphalt but for the most part, it was smooth. The temperature was pretty much what you would expect from the desert in August just this side of the temperature of the Sun. Waves were coming off of the pavement and as far as you could see were little hills and cactus.
The Rolling Stones were belting out "Can't you hear me knocking" and I was singing my part.
I had not seen a car in 30 minutes which was one of the advantages of taking California 125 out of Los Angeles. Ms. Annie was roaring along in fine fiddle being finally free of the load of heavy boxes and equipment.
Ms. Annie is my Peterbilt truck. Navy blue with red stripes. Named after my favorite relative, my grandmother. She is owned by me and the bank of North Dakota. Don't ask. They got me a really good rate. We were deadheading back to Houston which is home for about four to five weeks a year.
We had just topped the hill and a dark Blue Ford Taurus with a young woman standing next to it came into sight. The hood was open and she had her head stuck beneath it. I could tell it was a young woman from the wind whipping the white cotton skirt around some spectacular legs. She had her hair pulled beneath a fedora hat and was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. She pulled her head out and looked at me as I down shifted Ms. Annie. I pulled the truck to a stop about 25 yards to the rear of the Taurus and set the flashing lights. Reaching beneath the dash, I pulled the Glock from its hiding place and stuck it beneath my shirt in the back. What can I tell you I am a careful guy...? Three tours of duty in the Middle East in Iraq can do that to you.
I got out of the truck, made sure everything was flashing and walked up to the car. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at me. A few strands of blonde hair hung out the back of the hat.
Having trouble? It was pretty obvious to me that she had trouble, I just wanted to make sure that she knew it. She looked at me and the sun glasses nodded toward the engine.
"Damn thing just quit..."
"Mind if I have a look, I asked"
"By all means," she replied. "I have been staring at it for the better part of an hour and it won't do a damn thing more. " I tried calling the rental car agency but my cell phone won't work out here. She pulled the cell phone from her jacket pocket and looked again to make sure that she was still telling the truth. She was.
I went around to the side away from where she was standing with her hand on her hip, mostly to keep from showing off the Glock.
I pulled the dip stick out of the case and took a good long look at it. It showed empty of oil with a burning smell to it.
"Did the engine just stop all of a sudden while you were driving?"
"How did you know?"
"The engine is burned out. I don't think that this one will be going anywhere anytime soon."
"Would you like for me to take you to a town", I asked. The nearest one I can think of is Cardiff, Nevada about 120 miles down the road."
"If you don't mind", she said after a few minutes thought. "My cell phone is still not working."
"I don't think that there is any coverage out here."
I went around and helped her pull herself up into the front seat of Ms. Annie.
"This is my truck, Ms. Annie." I said.
"You must be southern", she said. "Only people in the south name their vehicles."
"Yes mam." "Bout as Southern as they come." I said.
Me too. She said.
"I am Jake Wheeler", I said. "From Houston." I took her hand and shook it. It was clammy to the touch.
"Good to meet you, Mr. Wheeler. I am trisha James.
Well, Ms. James, can I tell you a real short story to keep your mind off of your troubles for a bit?
By all means Mr. Wheeler, please call me Trish. Everyone does.
And please call me Jake.
Anyway a few years back, I was a soldier during Desert Storm. I was young and fresh and more than a little naive. Anyway, I finally woke up when we started operating behind enemy lines getting back to civilization about every three weeks our so. When I finally woke up to what was going on, I was scared. I mean really, really scared. I was so scared, I thought about going AWOL. I was too chicken even to do that. Then I decided that drugs would get me through. There were some guys doing that. But then I went to a movie they were showing at the USO.
Hell, I don't even remember the name of it. It was about these three kids that were on the wrong side of a desert that went on forever. The three kids were lead by a little blonde girl who flat out refused to quit. She said that if the wind can do it so can I and just started cross the desert. I know it was melodramatic and I know it was silly but that dumb movie meant the world to me. Well, from that time on I followed her career in the movies. If she was on the TV we taped it. Megan Mitchell was her name. I mean I read all the stories about her and her kids. Somehow her success meant a lot to me. Hell, I guess that makes me a big fan. Maybe I thought I would trip across her one of these days and tell her thanks.
She stared out the window. With her chin on her hand. There were some serious heavy sighs coming from that side of the truck.
"So Ms. Mitchell, if you want me to call you Trish or Travis or Bevis, I will do it. I just wanted you to know that somehow or someway, I felt like I owed you a whole bunch."
She turned and faced me and took off the hat and the glasses. The blonde hair came tumbling down. The deep blue eyes that had launched a million adolescent fantasies stared at me for a second and she reached over and patted my hand.
"Thank you", she said quietly. "It means a lot to me especially now".
"You are quite welcome," I said. "And I didn't want you to be concerned, I just wanted to tell you thank you and that you are amongst friends."
It was silent in the truck as we drove.
We watched the road go by and I said,
"I have a satellite phone if you would like to call someone."
"I am not sure who to call" she admitted.
Excuse me but what about your husband, your kids?
My husband hasn't been home in three weeks and the kids are at my mothers in Knoxville. The maid rented that car in her name. I guess I will have to have someone take care of that car. I am just not real sure who it will be.
"Jake, please stop the truck, I think I am going to be sick," she said.
I stopped the truck and she dropped to the ground and went to the side of the road. I got down and went around. She was on all fours on some hard dirt getting as sick as anyone I had seen in a while. I pulled her hair back and held it away from her face until the heaving stopped. When the heaving had subsided, she stood up and swayed as if she might go over. I grabbed her around the waist and helped her up to the door.
She pulled the door handle and squeezed through. Throughout the whole encounter, she had avoided meeting my eyes.
I opened my door and went back into the sleeper and got a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and squeezed some water onto a hand towel.
Try these, I offered.
Thanks, she said.
She wiped at her face and took a deep drink from the Gatorade.
Sip it I said. You don't want to end up back on the side of the road.
You're right. I should know better after two kids.
Shit, I hardly know them. I have been so busy trying to be the big "Movie Star" that the maids and nanny are practically raising them. It hasn't helped that I have been at war with the paparazzi. They have been bound and determined to make my life miserable. Two weeks ago, they roughed up one of my friends who was nice enough to get between them and my daughter. The media blitz has gotten so bad I don't know who to trust or not to trust.
Now she looked at me.
"Yeah, you don't want to trust just anyone to hold your head while you barf, Ms. Mitchell." I'm afraid the sarcasm was a bit too evident because she came back quickly.
"Jake, I am so sorry. I haven't been thinking too clearly lately. I left my house this morning all doped up with medicine heading for Knoxville. I thought it would be a chance to play mother to my kids for a while. I was so damn determined to avoid the cameras, I'm afraid that all my common sense went out the window. Next thing you know, I am broken down fifty miles from NBFE with no one in sight nor any hope for rescue. I mean when I screw up, I really go all the way.
By this time, I had the truck cranked and headed down the road. The temperature had cooled to a balmy 124 outside.
A voice from the back of the truck chimed in and Megan jumped.
"Jake, there is an alert out for Ms. Mitchell."
"Who is that??"
"Alice, my computer."
Why does she sound like me??
I shrugged "It was a choice between you or Marilyn Monroe. I chose you."
"Alice is a gift from a friend at the NSA in DC. He needed some low brain, high risk help a while back. When I told him I didn't want any help, he gave me Alice. She is one of a kind. Able to learn and to decipher tons of information simultaneously. I have spent the past five years talking to her and discussing life and the various subtleties of the human mind. She isn't much to look at but her brain and voice are unbeatable. Want to see?"
"Absolutely."
Alice, what do you think of Ms. Mitchell?"
"Well, I know that you think highly of her and she does have "my" voice so she must be a good person."
"Alice", Megan was getting into the spirit of the thing "who is looking for me?"
"It was an AP bulletin that you were missing. Your agent issued it and your parents were interviewed."
"God, my parents. My KIDS!!"
"Ok, I think now would be a good time to call your parents."
"Where is the phone?"
I pulled the yellow phone from the rack.
She dialed the phone and waited for it to ring.
"Dad, she asked. It's Megan. I'm fine. What's up?"
She listened for a while and said, "I'm fine. I am coming to Knoxville. How are the kids?"
"Well that's good. Let me speak to Katie."
"Hi, Katie." Her whole demeanor changed from that of the cold business woman to the Mommy. "How is your little sister? I miss you too." She listened for a while and said, "OK, I will see you soon. I love you too, bear. Give your letter sister a big hug for me. K, Let me speak to Pa pa."
"Dad, Ok, here's the deal. I am with a friend and coming to Knoxville, but I don't know exactly when. I have to deal with a small town rental car company. Let me call you back. No I haven't heard or talked to John. "
"Dad, I don't want to talk about this right now. Yes, I will call you back. Love you too, Dad. Love to Mom. Bye..."
She hit the end button and stared at the phone for a while. We came around the curve and a small sign came into view. "Cardiff 25 miles."