The Foothills

Chapter 1

I turn on my windshield wipers and watch as they move side to side, again and again. The blurriness doesn’t go away. It’s a bright sunny day, but I can barely see.

It’s your tears, Joshua, not the rain.

I turn off the wipers, but the absence of the squeaking rubber against my front window leaves a maddening silence. I fear I will be overwhelmed by my bleak emptiness.

Turn on the radio.

“There are those who think I’m a very stable genius, kay? I watch my words very closely…” our country’s leader stammers through my car speakers.

Turn off the radio.

Maddening silence and fear are better than a reminder of American news, the orange-haired leader, and corporate billionaires who are taking over this country. I dig my fingernails across my left arm, clawing to release something—anything—from my stiffened body.

My phone buzzes. It’s Myra, our school’s principal, and my boss. I know I shouldn’t have abandoned her so quickly after announcing my resignation, but I couldn’t stand being on campus one more second. My students deserve a better teacher than me. Which is why I had to leave. I had to leave.

But did you?

Two bright red lights motor into my blurred vision like a train coming at me full speed. My foot slams on the brake. One, then a second, then a third horn blares behind me, screaming a reminder that I’m driving in LA traffic on a Friday afternoon. I drop my forehead to the top of my steering wheel and let out a short scream of fury.

Pay attention, Joshua. Focus on your driving.

I turn to the right as the black Mercedes behind me moves to the next lane and speeds up. The driver flips me off. He has a cartoonish frown on top of a reddened face covered in white and gray hairs that reminds me of an irate Santa Claus. I smile through my tears, and my expression sends the Mercedes dashing off, followed by four other cars behind him. I look forward and notice the red lights are no longer there. I slam my foot on the gas pedal and continue on.

As is typical of Los Angeles, the traffic slows down again within a minute. This time, I try to power down with it, but as the decreasing speed of my car attempts to dampen the overwhelming emotions building up within, my thoughts force themselves onward, and suddenly, all I can detect is total, inexpressible exhaustion. I’m tired of crying, making decisions, trying to figure out what is right and wrong, feeling like I can only figure out what is wrong, and repeating this process another 10,000 times.

I exit the freeway at Azusa avenue, fifteen miles past where I currently live. I used to drive north on this road into the foothills for hours at a time, usually when I wanted to disappear for a while. Now, I need to get away from this traffic, from the city, from anything that reminds me of the failure I’ve become.

Teaching was supposed to be my last stand as a career option, but now, I’ve even ruined that. No job in America actually does anyone good. No one can separate egocentric pursuit from any action they take.

You’re selfish for wanting to leave, Joshua. My father’s words come back to me.

But how could I have stayed?

You made it about you. It was supposed to be about the students.

But I was trying to make it about the students.

Maybe what you’re feeling is a sign from God of how lost you really are.

My father must have been right all along. I have never felt this lost before, and maybe, I’m predestined for nothing but eternal guilt, endless failure, constant regret and eventual death. No prayer, action, or shift in my life can change my path towards self-destruction.

Destroy me then, God. If that’s what you want, let me die.

Loud honks from behind jolt me back to the present, and I hit the gas pedal. My car zooms past the last stoplight before the road moves out of suburban civilization and into the winding roads below the mountains. The lane in front of me is clear, and I watch as the speedometer rushes from ten to twenty to thirty to fifty. I push the car faster as I yearn for the endless thoughts circling in my brain to get left behind.

I release the pedal slightly, but the speed continues to grow as I reach seventy miles per hour. I race around winds in the road, feeling energized by the dangerous way the wheels in my 2005 blue Toyota Camry skid around every corner. I glance at my speedometer and see I am now going seventy-five. When I return my eyes back to the road, another pair of red lights are barreling towards me after rounding a corner in the side of the hill.

I send the wheel of my Camry to the left, dodging the car in front of me. I let my foot off the gas pedal. A silver truck in the oncoming lane honks loudly sending me back in a zig zag. My car starts swerving back and forth, and I hold on to the steering wheel. I force my foot down on the brake, and my car lurches off the side of the road.

Scraping bushes and thumping rocks are all I can see and hear until there is a loud bang. My body rams against my seatbelt, forcing all the air and consciousness out of me.

After an undefinable period of darkness, I inhale as the front-seat airbag begins to deflate. Opening my eyes, everything is blurry, and I struggle to see. Looking through my windshield now scattered with web-like cracks, I see the outlines of flames at the sides of my car’s hood.

My eyes drift to the bottom left side, and I see a head just above the bumper. Except, it isn’t a head, or, more like, it can’t be a human head. Human faces have eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth, but this one has none of those features. Instead, this head has bloodless skin and dark-purplish veins going off in random directions like tree roots under the ground.

I rock my neck back and forth, hoping it will clear my vision, but I only get dizzy. This, matched with sudden nausea, makes me vomit. I close my eyes and decide to take a few deep breaths, hoping this will give me new energy. When I reopen my eyes, I see my windshield is covered in black smoke, blocking my view.

Shit. You have to get out of here.

I reach to unbuckle my seat belt and moan a sigh of relief when it releases. I move to open the door, but it won’t budge. Turning to check the passenger door, I am halted again by a strange sight. A bloodless hand resembling the head I saw moments ago grabs onto the passenger-side windshield wiper. It tenses, as if trying to pull the rest of its body towards the top of my car.

Sweat beads at the top of my head and nape of my neck. I resolve to use the passenger door behind me. Pressing up on my right foot, I cry out in pain. I take another moment to breathe, but in this pause, I see the form of the faceless head materialize through the smoke. I shake my head one last time, hoping my vision clears up.

This can’t be real.

As if defying my inner thoughts, the figureless face continues to solidify through the smoke. I pull together the last of my strength to squeeze between the front two seats and onto the rear bench. Then, I hear the slam of a palm and crackling glass behind me. Whatever it is, it’s trying to get inside.

For a moment, I stop. My arms are now in reach of the back passenger door, but my legs, shooting with intense pain, are still in the front half of the car. I take a final, deep breath, willing courage into my mind, body and soul.

Isn’t this what you wanted, Joshua? For God to destroy you?

In some ways, it is what I wanted. So, why am I fighting this so much? Then, I hear the front windshield shatter, and the futile thoughts I had before the accident vanish. This is not how I want my life to end.

I reach for the door handle, and a burst of fresh air fills my nostrils when it opens. I’m getting a second chance. Then, lifeless fingers wrap themselves around my left ankle.

“Help!” I cry out, but I doubt anyone can hear me after my car tumbled down the side of the hill.

The creature’s grip tightens, and my leg convulses under its strength.

Could this be some sort of ghastly demon, sent from the depths of hell to carry me back with it?

It would be ironic given how much I've resisted my childhood belief in an afterlife. Perhaps, there is no use in fighting it off.

“There’s someone inside.” A voice drifts in from the open door.

I grab onto the cushion and use all my energy to resist the creature’s pull. I cry out again, as the pain from my right leg sends daggers through my blood and up the lower half of my body. My vision fades to black. Before its completely gone, a shining face appears, covered in lengthy, brown curls. Arms stretch through the opening of the door and pull me away from the direction of my hellish nightmare.