1987 Elsewhere, but Not Far

The red van was cruising through the streets, passing the closely placed, weathered two and three story family houses. They hit a pot hole, and the whole vehicle shuddered. "Damn, Chris!" exclaimed the young man sitting in the passenger seat. He was good looking, in a rugged, athletic way. "Slow down a little, wouldya?"

The driver, a very good looking blonde girl, hardly spared the boy sitting beside her a glance. "We're late, Andy."

"Well, it isn't like the chick is gonna take off walking if we don't show up on the dot. We're in a residential area--slow down before some kid runs out in front of us, and we end up REALLY being delayed--like about ten to twelve for vehicular manslaughter." The girl looked around ostentatiously. "What?"

"I'm just checking. I didn't think my Mom had come along on this trip." She turned a corner, tires squealing. There were also some squeals from the occupants of the back of the van as they were tossed to one side. Then there was another squeal as Chris hit the brakes to slow down abruptly. "Besides," she hit the horn several times, "it isn't as if we have to wait for them to run out."

There was a group of Hispanic kids playing stickball in the middle of the street. They turned very unimpressed gazes on the approaching van, showing no inclination to vacate the road. She slowed down even more, leaning on the horn. Most of the kids scattered, but a few moved just enough to let the van pass, and they banged on the sides and yelled as it squeezed through. "Chris, I hope we're about where we need to go, 'cause I do not want to have to deal with these kids' big brothers, if they think we're trying to run them down."

"Right over here, scaredy cat." She pulled over to the curb and parked.

Chris got out, and Andy climbed out on the other side. "Wait! Wait for me!" A pretty, dark haired girl scrambled up from the back, then got out and went directly to Andy. She leaned against his side, obviously fitting there, and he put an arm around her. "Which one is hers?"

Chris pointed. ~"Last house on the left. She lives downstairs." Chris called through the window of the van, "Shelly! Come out and meet your date."

A male voice drifted out. "Bring her to me."

Chris rolled her eyes, looking at Andy, who shrugged. "I can't do anything with him, either."

Debbie sighed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"He's my friend, Deb. I can't just give up on the poor schnook."

Chris called through the window again. "Chuck, Chili--what about you two? You coming?"

She was answered by a male and female duet of, "No!"

Chris threw her hands up in defeat. "Why am I surprised?"

The trio started across the street. They didn't notice the heavy figure that slipped around from the hidden side of the van and started stalking after them. He was wearing a hideous white mask, and carrying a large knife.

Andy and Debbie managed to walk while keeping their arms around each other, and they began kissing. Chris shook her head, saying, "Sex, sex, sex. You two are starting to get boring."

Debbie, looking a little embarrassed, broke the kiss. Andy tried to lean down and recapture her lips, but she turned her head away. Sounding slightly irritated now, he shot Chris a glance, saying, "What good's a weekend in the country without a little sex? A walk in the woods, a tussle in the leaves..."

Chris stiffened, and Debbie immediately knew it was in reaction to what Andy had said. She didn't try to pull away, but she swatted him on the shoulder, hissing, "Cool it! Some people have reasons to not like the woods."

Now it was Andy's turn to look sheepish. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Chris was still a little tense, but she shrugged. "I know you didn't. Look, I don't want to ruin the weekend for you guys. What happened at the cottage was a long time ago, and I think I've managed to work through it. I'm all right now." None of them noticed the figure creeping closer behind them, raising the knife. "I appreciate you're worrying about me, but don't."

Debbie nodded. "Sure. All we'll think about is having fun, agreed?" As she spoke, the figure lunged forward, jabbing the knife viciously at Andy's back.

Andy yelled in shock... as the knife bent in half. The three whirled on his assailant as Andy reached back to rub the sore spot between his shoulder blades. "Dammit, Shelly, that smarts! I'm going to have a bruise. Why do you always have to be such an asshole?"

Shelly, now looking a little absurd in his mask, drew himself up with mock dignity. "I beg your pardon. I am not an asshole--I am an actor."

"Same difference." He took a deep breath, and his voice was almost kind when he spoke again. "Look, Shel--you're my roommate, and I like you, at least most of the time, but you've got to stop pulling crap like this. I went through all the trouble of setting up this date for you, didn't I? Don't embarrass me. When you meet her, just relax and be yourself."

Shelly snorted. He peeled the mask over his head, leaving his rather greasy looking hair sticking out at odd angles. He was actually pleasant looking, but he was heavy, and his appearance was unkempt. He slipped on a pair of glasses and said, almost wearily, "Would you want to be yourself, if you looked like this?"

His friends didn't reply. They weren't necessarily cruel, and they did like Shelly, but they were all healthy, attractive young people, and there hadn't been a single awkward stage in the bunch. The honestly didn't know what Shelly was going through, and were just a little too shallow to know what to say to him. It was clear that Shelly didn't expect anything significant from them--he knew his friends.

They continued on, with Debbie and Chris leading the way up the steps and onto the porch. Shelly followed with Andy, but he hung back a few steps. He made a quick effort to smooth down his hair, then tucked his shirt in and pulled off his glasses, tucking them into his pocket. He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

The door was opened by a Latino woman wearing a flowered house dress, and a suspicious look. "Yes?" Even that single syllable was accented.

"Hi, Mrs. Sanchez," said Chris cheerfully. "I'm Chris. We're here for Vera."

Mrs. Sanchez glared at the two boys near the steps, then said bluntly, "She isn't going," and shut the door.

The group on the porch stood there a moment, blinking at each other. Behind the door they heard two female voices raised in argument--in Spanish. Chris said, "What are they saying?"

Debbie shrugged. "How should I know? I flunked Spanish. I can order at Taco Bell, but that's about it."

The door opened again, and a young, black haired woman, a knapsack slung over her back, stepped out. She was flushed, irritated, and beautiful. Forcing a smile, she said, "Hi, everybody. What are you all looking at?" She hefted the strap of the knapsack. "I'm ready to go." Shelly was staring at Vera, open mouthed. He'd been hoping for a pretty date, but Vera was gorgeous, and it was a little overwhelming. He slipped the mask back on, trying to move behind Andy.

"Is anything wrong?" Chris asked.

"Oh, you know--just your basic generational differences, over protective mother stuff. So," she said brightly, "where's my date?"

Shelly stepped out from behind Andy and twiddled his fingers. "Hi."

Her expression fell. "You're Shelly?"

His response was almost reflexive. "I'm sorry." Andy was angered by Shelly's apologetic attitude, and he jerked the mask off.

Debbie looked across the street, and saw white smoke billowing out of the van's windows, floating up to wreath the luggage lashed to the top. "Hey, the van's on fire!"

Everyone raced back across the street. Andy ripped open the passenger door, climbing inside, and Chris did the same on the driver's side. She immediately started coughing, trying to wave away the smoke. She peered through the fumes, then groaned.

Chili and Chuck (who looked remarkably like Cheech and Chong) were each busily puffing away on a bong, sending out clouds of acrid smoke. It was just as well that Chris hadn't been shouting at them, because each one was wearing the earphones to their Sony Walkman, and Chris could hear the music from the front of the van. They had to have the volume cranked up to maximum. Their eyes were closed, and they were swaying to the music, puffing with the beat.

Chris reached out and poked each of them sharply in the shoulder. Bloodshot eyes opened, peering at her with fuzzy curiosity, then identical, blissfully goofy smiles spread across their faces. "Hey, Chris," said Chili. She offered her mouthpiece to Chris. "Want a hit?"

Chris shook her head. "I'm driving, remember? And you two are going to have to stop that." They gave her hurt, petulant looks. "I mean it. I'm getting a second hand buzz just sitting here, and the windows were open. C'mon, you two. You've got to remember that the regular cops aren't like campus security--you won't be able to buy them off with part of your stash."

They reluctantly extinguished the bong as the rest of the group got in the van, and they started again. It wasn't long before they were deep into the New England countryside.

Debbie was riding on Andy's lap in front--the only seat besides the driver's seat. Andy said, "How much longer till we reach the cottage?"

"Not long," said Chris. "We could have already been there," she gave Debbie an arch look, "if someone didn't need to visit the bathroom every five minutes."

Debbie stuck her tongue out. "You'd better hope you never get pregnant, 'cause all you ever do is piss."

The rest of the group was sitting cross legged in the back of the van. Chili and Chuck were taking inventory of their large supply of joints and loose marijuana. Chili selected a joint and lit up. Shelly watched as she took a deep toke, then said, "Is that all you two are going to do this weekend--smoke dope?"

Chuck accepted the joint from his girlfriend and took a drag. "Why not? Is there a law against it?"

Shelly glanced at Vera, who was staring at Chuck in disbelief. He looked back at Chuck and said, "Actually, yes."

Chuck blinked, thinking hard. "Oh, yeah."

"Chuck, you know that propaganda about smoking dope killing brain cells?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you need to consider that it might not be propaganda. Anyway, there are better things to do with your life."

Chuck handed the joint back to Chili. "Like what?"

Chili toked. "I can't think of anything." She offered the joint to Shelly, who shook his head.

She offered it to Vera, who shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" She crawled forward on her hands and knees, reaching for the joint. This thrust her shapely rear almost in Shelly's face. Shelly wasn't at all upset. He didn't pull back, but he restrained himself from leaning in, too. Vera took a hit, and managed to keep the smoke down as she asked, "Is this stuff good?"

"Good?" said Chuck. "It's home grown, man! It has to be good."

"And it's good for you," Chili chimed in. "All organic, no preservatives, man."

Up front Andy sniffed the scent of burning premium hemp, and peered into the back. "Hey, how about sharing the wealth with the deprived up front?" Vera crawled forward and handed him the joint, while Chuck lit up another. When she sat back down beside Shelly, he was rummaging in a small black suitcase. "Whatcha got there?"

He gave her a mysterious smile. "My whole world."

"In that little thing?"

"Stick around--you'll see." There was the sound of sirens, coming closer. Shelly raised up and peered out the back window. "Cops. Two cruisers, with lights and everything."

"Oh, man!" Chris lamented. "Hide the grass."

Shelly said, "They look like they're in hot pursuit."

"What are we gonna do?" said Chuck, miserably.

"Get rid of the evidence, pronto," suggested Vera.

Chuck clutched his chest. "No, man!"

Chili shoved a box of joints at him. "Yes, man!" They started stuffing joints and loose weed in their mouths. She threw a baggie at Andy. "C'mon, man--dig in."

"Shit." Andy opened the bag and started shoveling marijuana into his mouth. Vera, still looking amused, started to help. Andy grabbed another baggie and offered it to Chris. "Help."

She didn't take her eyes off the road. "Like I told them--I'm driving."

"Chris, now is not... Hell!" He offered the bag to Debbie. "Breakfast?"

"No way," she said firmly. "We're pregnant, remember?"

The cruisers were drawing closer. Chris sped up, but so did the police. Andy, Chili, Chuck, and Vera continued stuffing down marijuana as fast as they could, but they were all starting to turn green in the face. Shelly clutched his suitcase and watched through the back window as their fate drew closer, and closer. Vera offered him a fistful of grass, saying, "Why don't you help us?"

"Um," he hesitated. "I guess I'm just not hungry."

Andy's tone was muffled, but indignant. "You're always hungry."

Vera shoved the grass at him again, and he gingerly nibbled a few strands from her hand. "They're too close," said Chris. "I'm going to have to pull over. Everyone swallow, then just be cool." Chris pulled off onto the shoulder, putting the van in park. She leaned her head out the window and watched the cruisers approach...

Then watched numbly as they zoomed past, never slowing down. Everyone in the back had raised up far enough to peer out the windshield, and they watched as the cruisers began to disappear in the distance. There was a collective sigh of relief--then groans.

"I think," said Andy, "that I'm going to be sick."

Vera was holding her belly. "The line forms behind me."

"I'm gonna be sicker than anyone," mourned Chuck. "I'm gonna have to spend the weekend completely straight now." He buried his head in his hands. "I don't think I can make it."

Chili poked him. "Chuck, look." She started to unbutton her blouse.

He glanced over, then said tiredly, "Not now, man."

Chili reached into her bra, and pulled out a good sized bag of marijuana. She dangled it before him, grinning. "What can I say? I'm a slow eater."

Chuck threw his arms around her and began smothering her with kisses. "I love you, man!"

A little farther down the road, they spotted the police cruisers. They were pulled up in front of a small Mom and Pop store. There was a small knot of onlookers clustered outside, and an ambulance was parked near the front door. Chris slowed down as they neared, rubbernecking. As they approached, several paramedics came out, carrying a couple of stretchers. Instead of blanket draped accident victims, though, the stretchers bore shiny black body bags. Chris inhaled sharply.

Debbie had been looking, too, and now she read the concern on Chris' face. She touched her friend's arm and said quietly, "Hey kiddo, don't let your imagination run away with you."

Chris nodded, fixed her eyes resolutely on the road, and drove on.