Appearance: 
  
 
Page:   
 Share It:
https://fiction.homepageofthedead.com/forum.pl?readfiction=708H

The Unity
(© Bryan Way)

Page 2

It takes a few discreet bends in the road until I’m finally on the main street of my little town, West Chester Pike (PA Rt. 3), and from there it’s only a few more miles to get to the blue route, which in turn leads to the PA turnpike, which takes me directly into Allentown.  The volume on the stereo is turned up to the maximum, which shakes the review mirror, creating wispy trails of light out of anything in my wake, including the flashing lights of an ambulance as it screams past me into the night.

Travel on the roads seems kind of light. I’m a night owl, the kind of person who sleeps from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon, and normally traffic is this light only at three in the morning, just before that perfect balance between people getting home on weekends and the early morning rush getting started. It’s kind of ominous, but perhaps it’s rendered that way by the music I’m listening to.  At the appropriate time, I turn left onto the blue route (PA Rt. 476 North).

It’s actually quite astonishing that I’ve never been in an accident, my brain is always in a rigid state of autopilot when I’m driving; usually because I’m thinking of something. Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s girls, but none of it is ever relevant to driving, unless I have no idea where I’m going. Road trips are usually therapeutic for me. Often times I talk out a lot of issues I’m having with myself. There’s nothing quite like having an interesting night somewhere and having to drive home, and I find almost everything interesting. I guess it can be described by having to drive an hour to get home after losing one’s virginity. Road signs, radio, stop lights; nothing matters. The mind is abuzz of what has just happened, thinking about what the future holds, what this event could end up meaning. Well, I just happen to think that way about everything, and this trip is no exception.

This trip will be reserved for thinking about Alice, this I can feel after being on the highway for less than a minute. I can’t help but think of the little things she’s changed in me, none of which were done forcefully, thank God. She has an infectious sort of generosity, the sort where money ceases to be an object even when she has limited income. That generosity is compounded by her keen awareness for gifts, as she will pick up on the slightest mention of something hard to find or expensive and go to great lengths to hunt it down for someone. That’s rubbed off on me, and as a result I’ve started giving gifts to people even when I don’t expect something in return.

She’s probably craves contact more than anyone else I’ve known, and not simply in a sexual sense. She needs to be hugged and kissed, and more than anything else held.  When I embrace her, I can feel her security radiating out, I can actually feel her become more at ease. It’s made me very receptive and attentive to her needs, and whereas in the past I’ve been at times cold to my mother, I’ve started to warm up more to giving her hugs and even kisses with regularity because I’ve become so comfortable with it.

I could spend years touching her body. My hands usually find my way to the small of her back and end up working their way up and around to her neck, down her arms and back, across her breasts, and down to her thighs over and over again. I feel like a child with a newly opened Christmas gift, running my hands over the surface to reaffirm that what I have before me is actually real.

I take notice of the snow that wisps into little vortexes in the wake of the few cars on the road; it seems to be so light that will never actually touch the ground. To my good fortune, the people on the road are going uncharacteristically fast, which allows me to use them as my driving guinea pigs. Usually these people don’t kiss 90 miles an hour, but tonight they’re making out with it and stepping up to more dangerous speeds. Not that I mind, but usually people like this look more like they’re trying to get away from something than get somewhere.

As if on cue with my thought process, the people in front of me slow down rather quickly.  As I step on the breaks I peer past them to see what the holdup is about.  There seems to be rather dense lines at the tollbooths to get on the turnpike.  It makes me wonder if the tollbooth workers have gone on strike again. It’s no matter to me, however. Since the advent of EZ-Pass, my traveling has been quite simple. It’s rather ingenious, a simple box with encoded metal strips that are detected by infrared beams above the toll plaza, and your account is charged with a discount of whatever the actual toll is supposed to be. Lucky for me my father travels a lot, and that’s why I have one.

[ Continue to page 3 ]

Donate
Help keep this site online by donating and helping to cover its costs.

Information
Genre:Living Dead
Type:Medium length story
Rating:6.67 / 10
Rated By:202 users
Comments: 14 users
Total Hits:11867

Follow Us
 Join us on Facebook to be notified of updates
 Follow us on Twitter to be notified of updates

Forum Discussion
 "In A Violent Nature" - trailer... »
 Helldivers 2 (video game) »
 Alien: Romulus (trailer)... »
 Could James Rhodes aka War Machine hav... »
 Could James Remar have portrayed Rhode... »
 Reacher (Amazon series) »
 SRS Cinema (Merged Threads) »
 Rate the last movie you've seen »
 Fallout (Amazon Prime series) - Based ... »
 TWD: "The Ones Who Live" (Rick/Michonn... »
 TWD: Dead City teaser... »
 Had Rhodes and the boys been inside th... »
 Shogun (TV series) »
 MZ's Movie Review Thread »
 Dune: Part 2 (film) »
 For those who have visited the Monroev... »
 Masters of the Air (Apple TV+ series)... »
 the Walking Dead Empires. PC/MAC MMO S... »
 Boy Kills World (film) trailer... »
 Dawn Of The Dead (1978) - On-Set Home ... »