The Rescue

When I locked eyes with her, I gave up everything. I derailed my life, then and there, driving down the highway. Sure, there were ample opportunities to change course. I could have not done it.

I chose to follow that truck off the highway and into the parking lot of the truck stop.

It was early morning, but the sun was already up and hot. I parked near the entrance and watched the truck through my rearview. A burly farmer type jumped down from the diesel and set to refueling. I couldn’t see her from this angle, but her brown eyes didn’t leave my mind.

The man ambled across the greasy pavement to the station. I watched him pass…I could smell the cow shit. He didn’t look at me and so I looked back into the rearview, at the gleaming diesel. My hand hovered on the key. I could just leave.

But I got out, instead, and followed the man into the gas station. It smelled of stale breakfast burritos and acrid cleaners.

I hid behind a display and pretended to look at famous potatoes souvenirs.

The man was loudly sharing pleasantries with the clerk as he paid for his stinky diesel and a redbull. I listened, trying on sunglasses in the mirror so I could also see the back of the man’s head.

A chill ran through me as I listened. It was true. I set the sunglasses back on the stand. It was just as I had suspected when I looked into her eyes. He was going to kill her. Sweat tingled at the back of my neck. It was too late. The man was taking his redbull. He would head out to his truck and drive away and kill her. My knuckles tightened on a potato snow globe. I could stop him right now.

But suddenly—and thankfully—before I could actually act on the madness that had seized me, the man set his drink back down and asked the clerk if he could watch it for him. Then he headed toward the restroom.

I let out a sigh and released the snow globe, deadly though it was.

I had to act fast. The music seemed to be getting louder in the gas station and the breakfast burritos were stronger. I ran back into the sunlight and hurried across to the pumps. The yellow sign of a fast food restaurant blazed from across a green stretch of grass and a sunken drainage ditch.

I glanced around. The parking lot was mostly empty. The highway was quiet, already rippling with heat as the sun inched up the velvet blue sky. On the other side of the truck stop, a barren field was getting raked up to build something else. The farmland was slowly getting eaten up by industry…how long until the very trucks this station served no longer had any cattle, grain, or hay to haul?

I turned my attention to the diesel truck and its long black trailer. I caught her eye and she seemed to understand that right now—right now was the moment. I hesitated. This was truly my last chance, but by this point, I knew I couldn’t stop. So I didn’t.

I opened the door and she stepped out into the sun. Free.

But not yet.

We had to get out of here.

We couldn’t escape in my car. We couldn’t take the diesel because the man had surely taken his keys into that dank truck stop restroom.

So I led her across the parking lot toward the only refuge we could possibly find: the fast food restaurant.

In retrospect, that was a bad idea. But there was nowhere else to go.

So we clambered over the curve and she halted on the grass, but I tugged her after me, through the ditch and over another curb. The open sign flickered neon in the shade of the overhanging roof, but the sun was nearly blinding, flashing off the windows, obscuring what was inside. Perfect.

I nearly slipped in a spilled milkshake as we hurried across the white dashes of the pedestrian crosswalk. I thought I heard a voice shouting behind us, but I didn’t look back.

I held the door open for her and she obligingly trotted ahead, into the AC-chilled bliss.

“Sir, you can’t bring her in here,” the cashier in a bright red headband said.

“Shhh,” I said. “We have to hide. Can we slip into the back?”

“Are you insane?” The cashier retorted.

I glanced back out the windows, toward the truck stop.

Nothing.

It was black outside, like night had fallen. But without any streetlights or anything. Very faintly, I could make out distant lights moving softly, almost in sync with the slow song playing over the speakers inside the restaurant.

“Did you hear me?” insisted the cashier. “I said get out of here!”

“No, we can’t,” I said. “He’s coming. We’ve got to hide!”

I looked back at the cashier to see that they were also staring past me at the windows.

“What’s happening?” the cashier asked.

“I don’t know, just…just help me hide her,” I begged.

The cashier blinked and refocused on me, frowning.

The song seemed to be getting louder.

“Please, I begged. He’s coming.”

I looked back over my shoulder and caught her wide brown eyes. She seemed calm. Not frightened or urgent or scared. Behind her, the weird darkness beyond the windows was getting brighter—maybe—but I still couldn’t make out the parking lot. The man might be right outside. Could he see in?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the cashier said. “And this is insane, but fine. Come on.”

They ushered us into the kitchen and I reflected on the irony of bringing her here—but it was much too late.

The lights outside were moving faster and I was sure the man was close.

Steam hissed from the fryers and all I could smell were delicious French fries. We followed the cashier past gleaming silver tables and racks and cupboards.

I almost lost sight of the red headband in the steam for a moment.

There was no one else in the kitchen.

Just steam and stainless steel and white linoleum.

The cashier looked back at us, a frown creasing their freckled face.

“We should be at the office by now…” the cashier said. “Hey! Marco! Where is everyone?” Only hissing steam answered.

It swirled around the red headband and I paused to look back at my rescue. Her deep brown eyes reflected the steam and she said nothing, but it seemed like her eyes said, I trust you.

I shrugged.

Somewhere far behind us, a shout penetrated the salty fog. It was not a fry order. I grabbed her and pulled her after the cashier.

“Move, move, he’s coming!”

“Who?”

“The man!”

Footsteps rang in the smoke behind us and we quickened our pace, our own footsteps clacking loudly on the slippery floor.

“Where’s the exit?” I asked, clawing my way through the thick white air. My stomach growled—I hadn’t had breakfast.

Fries and…guiltily, I thought of burgers…

“Its should be here!” the cashier said, panic sharpening their voice. Grease rankled at my nose, almost unappetizing. “We take the garbage out here,” the cashier continued, frantically and almost to themself. “But where is the goddamn door? Where’s Marco?”

We were still running.

The floor was tilting ahead of us…downward. And the floor was slick with grease or milkshake or panic. Behind us, the pushing feet thundered.

“Get us out of here!” I shouted. We couldn’t be caught—I couldn’t let that happen. Yet the footsteps were so close behind us. My own footing gave out and I slid into the cashier’s back, sending them sprawling. Everything was white steam.

We were sliding down an incline. She was right behind me, her breath hot and wet on my neck. But she made no sound, as if this were normal for her.

We slid faster and faster and faster—the steam shot by in great gouts of hissing—the white blurred into a shimmering rainbow of whispers. Stars. An endless glittering grid of lights…

“What is this place?” I asked, one hand on her shoulder, the other clutching at my spinning head. We stood at the intersection of shining planes. Nothing but lights in all directions and nearly invisible surfaces that cut space into geometry that I couldn’t quite discern. She didn’t answer.

But the cashier wouldn’t stop cussing.

“Fuck, I knew it was a damn inter-dimensional void!” they said. “But shit this is insane. We fell through the fucking glitch. Are you seeing this?”

They turned on me like it was my fault.

“Y-yes,” I said. I looked back, but it was the same as what lay before me, and I didn’t hear any footsteps…would the man find us?

“We’re at a crossroads,” she said. It was the first time I had heard my rescue’s voice and I jumped, surprised at how musical it was.

“What crossroads?” I asked. “I already made my choice.”

“And a mad one, at that,” she said.

“Oh great, she speaks,” the cashier said, throwing their hands up. “Of course she does.”

“What do we do?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch. I looked back and forth at the shining—planes? Directions? Spatial something-ness.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” chanted the cashier. “I need a smoke.”

“It’s up to you,” she said, her eyes deep pools of mystery, “you can go on, or you can turn back.”

“And get caught?” I asked. I was sweating.

“No—reset.”

I pondered. Reset. To what?

To driving to work everyday to slave away for a corporation?

I looked into the distance. It was bright and illegible. But I knew I couldn’t go back.

“No.”

“What the fuck,” said the cashier, their freckles standing out like embers, “what about me?”

“Do you want to go back and reset?”

They didn’t hesitate to even contemplate their life.

“Fuck no,” they said.

“Then let’s go.”

We all looked forward into the brightness.

Me, the cashier, and the cow I had rescued from the trailer in a fit of madness.

A fit that was perhaps not over.

“Be ready,” she—the cow—said. “It’s going to get hairy. While we hesitate, we are held temporally, but once we commit to our decision, the chase is on. He is right behind us.”

I let out a shuddering breath that was echoed by the cashier.

“Ok, let’s fucking go,” they said. I nodded and the cow led the way forward.

The brightness increased, pulsing around us, thudding with the beat of our footsteps. We quickened our pace, thundering through the fluctuating shimmer. I squinted.

Sunlight. Hot pavement. We were back outside the fast food place. Had we gone the wrong way and reset? No. We’d just come out the back door—me, the cashier, and her.

We were still on the run. Ahead, a shitty motel loomed. We could hide in a random room—or the laundry—or the pool?

“Come on,” she said, reminding me that I was either tripping or reality really was out of whack. We ran across the street into the motel parking lot. The door slammed open behind us.

“Hey!” the man yelled. “What the fuck? Bring her back!”

Where were we going to go?

“That motor home!” The cashier said, pointing. It was big and silver. The cow might be able to squeeze through the door…but even then. The keys.

“Can you hot wire a car?” I asked sarcastically.

“Yeah,” they said.

“Oh.”

We ran to the motor home. Miraculously, it wasn’t locked.

The cashier dove straight into the driver seat and ripped off a panel while I tugged her through the door. She trampled up the steps and filled the little living area. I looked out and saw the man—almost upon us, his face red, veins bulging in his neck. I slammed the door and locked it. He pounded on the door.

“Hey! Open up! That’s my cow, you fucking fuckwit!”

He wound back his arm and slammed his fist through the window.

I screamed. Bloody knuckles quivered inches from my face. Broken glass twinkled down the front of my shirt. Hot wind blew in, followed by the stink of exhaust. The motor home roared to life.

“GO!” I squealed as the bloody hand grasped at me.

The motor home lurched and I fell backwards onto the floor. The hand disappeared and we lurched again. I scrambled to my feet and fell into the passenger seat.

The cashier steered us out onto the street. I could see the man raging at us in the side mirror. Another man was running out of the motel, waving his fists in the air.

I let out a sigh.

The cashier pulled us onto the highway and put it on the floor.

The motor home had some juice.

Ugly commercial buildings and dying farmland flickered past the windows. The radio was tuned to some twangy folk music station. I looked in the mirrors. The highway was empty.

The farmer guy would have to go back across two parking lots to get his truck to chase us. The motor home owner would call the police…but surely we could ditch the vehicle and…and what? Where would we go? I had thought we’d be running through parallel dimensions or something. I hadn’t expected to be running here…back in my world with the real world consequences for livestock theft and grand theft auto…

The cow’s eyes were deep with understanding.

“It won’t be easy,” she said.

“Oh, we are fucked,” the cashier agreed.

“But you can talk,” I squeaked. “Right?” I glanced at the cashier. “Right?”

“The cow?” the cashier said. “Oh yeah. She talks. I must be high. And this is a shit time to have a break with reality or a whatever is happening. But fuck it. We either live fast and crazy or we die sad and angry, right?”

“We can do both,” I said, suddenly feeling panic clawing its way upon my throat. What the fuck were we doing?

I noticed a new sound. Water running.

“Earl?” a voice called from the motor home’s bathroom. The cow’s eyes widened and the cashier cussed again. The shower shut off and the voice continued. “Goddammit, Earl. What is it this time? I told you I as going to shower!”

“What do we do?” I hissed.

“I don’t think its human,” said the cow, raising her eyebrows in an ironically human fashion.

“What?” the cashier demanded, swerving erratically.

“Dammit, Earl!”

“Sorry,” the cashier yelled back, then blanched, then shrugged and mouthed, what? at me in the rearview.

“It didn’t exist before we got in the motor home,” the cow explained quietly, trying to turn around in the tiny space and only succeeding in knocking a box of cereal off the table. “You have to kill it.”

“What?!” I gasped.

Her sweet stare silently confirmed her words. If I didn’t—this would all be for nought.

The bathroom door opened and an eighty-year-old woman in a towel staggered out of the steam. Weird steam. Flickering steam. Steam that smelled like floral shampoo and nightmares.

“Earl?” it asked, then caught sight of the cows’ rump filling the RV. Its eyes sparked in surprise—or maybe that’s what it wanted me to see—and then it caught sight of me and the cashier and the highway ahead.

“What in God’s name?”

“Hi,” said the cashier, apologetically.

“We’re sorry,” I squeaked.

The old lady squinted its eyes at us, about to go full Karen mode. The cow shook her head, wriggled, and burped. Something gleamed in her mouth.

“Thieves!” screamed the old woman. “Kidnappers! Earl! Save me!” Then an evil glint danced in its eyes and it clutched at its towel like it was going to keel over and die of shock.

The cow let the sword drop from its mouth onto the beige carpeting. The motor home swerved and I nearly fell out of my chair. The old lady toppled over, vanishing behind the cow.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” I shrieked at the cashier.

“Hard to do, man!” they yelled back.

The old woman rose behind the cow, towel-less and furious. Its hands were like claws as it demanded, “Pull over right now, young woman, and I won’t charge you!”

“My pronouns are they/them,” the cashier barked, slamming their foot on the gas. The old woman flipped over with a shriek. I slid out of the passenger seat and collapsed on the floor—on the sword. It was shiny and golden.

“You have to kill it,” she said, looking down on me, her big brown eyes full of sadness. “It won’t stop chasing us.”

My hands shook, but I grabbed the sword by its glittering grip and lifted it from the beige carpet.

I rose to meet the fiery gaze of the old woman.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Who are YOU?” the old woman demanded. “Thief!” She meant the cow, not the RV. Was the owner even named Earl?

Or was I really really crazy nutzo? I looked down at the sword. Was it just a butter knife or something?

Didn’t really matter. There was no going back.

“Pull over now and everything can go back to how it was,” it said, as if it could read my thoughts. Its old lady boobs peered at me over the back of the cow.

“Don’t listen to it,” she said.

It cackled.

“Will you listen to a cow over reason?” it asked.

Then it was on the ceiling. The cow cried out in warning and the thing dropped onto me like a hawk. I didn’t have time to lift the sword. The thing’s arms were around me, the old lady boobs stabbing into me—the fuck—they were sharp—and it bit into my neck.

“Holy fuck!” the cashier yelped, swerving wildly.

“Brake!” yelled the cow.

Screeching. A car horn blared. Blurring lurch.

The thing detached with a shriek.

The cashier cursed and I rolled onto my back, clutching at my throat with one hand. The sword was still clutched in my other.

The old lady thing clambered off the dash board, its fangs dripped with blood and its claws and boobs sparkled like blades. Blood was running down my neck. I gasped, crawling onto my knees.

“Give up,” it said.

“No,” I gasped.

“You can’t win.”

“To the river!” The cow yelped.

“No!” shrieked the thing, swiping a claw at the cashier before they could step on it. Blood sprayed across the windshield and I nearly threw up. The thing turned back on me, tits blazing.

We were still rolling. The cashier was slumped over, choking—dying. More car horns honked and we rolled into oncoming traffic.

“Will you die for her?” The thing asked. I somehow got to my feet.

“I’ll die to escape mediocrity,” I said. “And to free her from whatever you are.”

The thing chuckled. And then pounced.

The cow head butted me from behind and I staggered forward, sword-tip lurching up…

The thing screamed—like an old lady.

It staggered back, off the sword tip and grinned.

“Tis but a flesh wound,” it laughed.

And then we hit the barrier on the other side of the highway. The thing fell against the dash and I plowed into it, sword driving right between its tits. The windshield cracked. A new song came on the radio, distorted and wavering.

The thing coughed up blood and gasped, “dammit.”

And then it morphed. Its wrinkly skin smoothed out and a beard spouted on its chin and its lifeless eyes grew younger. I staggered back and fell at the cow’s feet.

The farmer-type man was pinned to the crackling radio with a golden sword. He was naked, just like the old lady had been, as if by transporting himself through space and changing his shape, he had left his clothes behind.

Or I was fucking crazy.

The cashier!

Blood was everywhere. What if I had done all of this?

I looked at the cow.

“The river,” she said.

“OK,” I gasped.

I rolled the cashier out of the drivers seat and smeared some of the blood off the windshield.

The RV was still running. I backed off the barrier and steered us back across traffic into our lane, ignoring the vehicles that had stopped to try and help us. Smoke was coming out of the wrinkled front end, but it wasn’t far to the river.

I punched it, ignoring the tears that were streaming out of my eyes.

I hadn’t imagined it would end up like this. But then, I hadn’t imagined what would happen next at all, I had just acted, before the opportunity vanished. I kind of wished I had let it slip by.

But then she’d be dead, right?

Did the life of one talking cow matter so much?

What about the cashier? What about me?

I was sobbing now, the blood soaking into my clothes from the upholstery. The highway blurred before me.

“It’s going to be ok,” the cow said behind me. “As long as we get to the river, it will be ok.”

“Sure,” I sobbed. “Fucking sure.”

But I couldn’t do anything else. So I sped on, peering through my tears, the blood, and the black smoke from the engine.

In the distance, in the rearview, I thought I saw blue and red lights flickering.

“You chose right,” the cow said. “It just doesn’t feel like it right now. But you chose kindness, and that’s what matters. You chose it when you could have just walked away.”

I grit my teeth and kept crying. But I also kept my foot on the gas.

Something moved beside me.

The man—the thing—it squirmed on the sword.

“The FUCK?!” I shrieked.

“Hurry,” the cow said, “it will regenerate if we don’t get to the river.”

I could hear the sirens now, but the road was just ahead: the fastest route to the river. The thing squirmed again and I glanced at it.

What a mistake.

I retched and swerved and another driver laid on their horn. Black smoke billowed from the crunched hood. The creature pinned to the dashboard reached for me with a bleeding stump of arm…the flesh was bubbling and oozing. In the rearview, police cars appeared around the corner.

I swung the RV off the highway. We banged over ruts onto the gravel road. The grasping hand of the thing missed the steering wheel and grabbed my knee. I screamed, fighting to keep the motor home on the road. We were going way too fast for this pot-hole riddled road. Bushes thwacked the sides and squealed along the windows. I couldn’t see past the smoke.

The thing was squeezing my knee. I slapped at it, frantically and swerved off the road.

We plummeted through thick brush and then dipped down a steep bank.

The thing and I screamed.

A thud. I bounced against the ceiling and landed hard. But at least the thing had let go of me. Through the smoke I could make out a beach and the sparkle of the sun on water.

“Quick, we need to get out!” the cow cried out from behind me. She was pressing against the door, but it seemed to be stuck.

I clambered over the driver’s seat and away from the clawing creature whose arms were extending beyond human range.

“What is it?” I shrieked.

She didn’t answer, just lowered her head and rammed the door. It popped open and she charged out into the sunlight. I followed, immediately inhaling a choking cloud of engine smoke. My feet plunged into sand and I emerged, coughing onto the beach. The motor home had lodged itself in a bank of sand and old driftwood.

“Run!” urged the cow.

I followed her down toward the glittering river. Over the bitter oil burning, I caught a whiff of dank river smell: waterweed and fish stink.

BOOM!

I staggered and fell, clutching my ears. My elbows sank into sand and garbage fluttered past my face. I twisted around, filling my pants with sand as I wriggled to face the motor home. It had exploded. Fire and black smoke lashed at the sky and broken glass glittered in a burnt swath in front of the RV.

Beyond that, I could hear the sirens getting closer.

And the thing had escaped before the explosion.

It looked like a tangle of skin and bones, pulsating, expanding and contracting like a machine, elbows or knees shooting in and out like pistons.

I scrambled back on my butt as the thing scuttled toward me.

Another boom.

I winced, ducking as more fire issued from the exploded RV. The thing would be upon me, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. I didn’t want to see it as it…devoured me?

But nothing. Just sirens and the rush of the river burbling along its stinking way.

“Help!” she cried.

I flipped around, tossing up more sand and squinted into the glare of the sun. The tangle of limbs was accosting the cow on the water’s edge. Hundreds of fingers splayed around her neck and pulled at her, just as her hooves clamored at the damp sand where the water touched the earth. “Get if off! I have to get to the water!”

I scrambled to my feet and charged the abomination headlong.

Splash!

Flesh.

Sweaty, bloody, and pulsing.

I grabbed at joints and limbs and folds of skin, trying to grip, rip, push, or otherwise damage it. My foot slipped in mud. Water lapped up to my knees. We were all three in the river. The limbs rippled under my grasp, writhing up and around to pin me.

Over the top of the mass of limbs, I could see her, haloed by the sun, submerging in the sparkling water. Her head went under in a flicker and I suddenly panicked. Could she swim?

But the limbs were pushing me down.

I couldn’t escape them, they were all around me now, squeezing. I couldn’t swim.

I gasped as cold water rushed up my torso and I couldn’t refill my lungs. The thing had its something wrapped tightly around my chest. Then water sucked over my head.

Somehow, underwater, I could hear it speaking.

You’ll never escape. The system is too big, too organized, too full of hate.

Green murk filled my stinging eyes.

And then the limbs were gone and I popped out of the water, coughing and spitting and gasping. I blinked furiously, lashing out around me, trying to hit the thing before it could grab me again. But it was gone.

I was sitting in the river, up to my chest in muddy water. Downstream, a bloody flesh lump floated away…limp and lifeless. I blinked water out of my eyes and scanned for the cow…

There she was, standing thigh deep in running water, her form also changed. She appeared to be a woman with long dark hair, clothed in nothing but woven sunlight.

“I’m free of the enchantment,” the goddess said. “My powers are restored.”

I stared.

“It—it’s over, then?” I asked, coughing again.

“Oh, no, of course not,” she said. “Now we have to fight the police.”

I looked back at the shore and the burning motor home and the gap in the bushes beyond where the road actually came down to the beach. My shoulders sagged in dismay.

“The police?” I asked. Why had I expected it to be over? How would I explain all of this? “We—we have to fight them?”

“Of course,” said the goddess. “But we’re not alone.”

I gaped as the cashier staggered out of the wreckage, apparently unharmed.

“Damn, what did I miss?” they asked, running across the beach.

“A flesh blob-arm monster-thing,” I choked out. “And this.” I waved in the direction of the goddess.

“Ah, ok,” said the cashier, apparently unfazed. They splashed into the shallows and helped me up.

The first police car came jolting onto the beach.

“Isn’t there another way?” I asked the Goddess as she handed us both golden swords she’d seemingly spirited from the air.

“Imagining a better future is only the first step,” she said, her eyes full of stars and black holes, beauty and death. “You have to act.”

“I already did,” I protested. The sword was heavy in my hand.

“And it’s not easy,” she replied. “Change can’t happen in a day. We have a long journey ahead.”

I looked at the cashier. They shrugged.

“Better to risk it all than to know and not do anything,” they said. “Besides. Too late now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“That’s the spirit.”

We turned to face the cops as they emerged from their car, unhinging their jaws and licking their teeth with long forked tongues.

Things were going to get weird. And very very difficult.

I gripped my sword and planted my feet in the mud.

On one side, the cashier jeered at the monsters, and on the other, the goddess raised a spear of fire.

Justice had to start somewhere. It was heavy and terrifying, but it might as well be here. I could have not done it. But I did.