The End of the Road
Midnight; the wind through the leaves shook and shivered and cast shadows like rats running in the underbrush. The headlights of the car leant an eerie illumination to the October night, sparkling on the veil of frost like stars that had fallen from the sky. Artie Nielsen drove on farther away from the warm welcome of the Victorian Bed and Breakfast where he often spent the long nights curled safely under the covers with a mug of steaming coffee and the latest Grisham novel. Tonight would be different however, and he had accepted that fact before he rummaged through the settled dust of the warehouse, stirring up the remnants of old ghosts that lingered on the surfaces everywhere he turned.
He packed the essentials; his maps, a change of clothing, the number where he could reach the woman he had been summoned to meet alone on such a bright and crisp night. It had been far too many years since he had seen his old love from the days when he was a young man, draped in the hopes and naivety that youth wears. Time had lifted that veil, as it did for all young men, and now he was older and wiser, but he still had no answer for why he chose to go out in search of the past.
He flipped through the stations on the radio as he drove not really hearing any of them; it was just something that he did when the answers didn't come to him right away as they should. News, weather, oldies, and the auto tuned synth pop that they tried to pass off as music these days; he found none of it appealing so he switched the radio off and stared out at the road in silence.
He drove on for miles thinking about the old days. It had been painful then, not just for him, but for so many of those he loved. Perhaps if he had known, things would have been different. Maybe they wouldn't; none if it really mattered now anyway. The past is cast in stone that will never be altered, so tonight he would drive. He would meet the past head on and he would bid it goodbye. No, he thought to himself, there was nothing that he would change even if he could.
The shadows grew longer and darker as more frequent clouds covered the moon. Artie kept driving though it was becoming more difficult to see where the road ended or began. Perhaps it was a metaphor for his journey he thought, maybe it was his own life he was seeing casting shadows on the otherwise well-lit highway, maybe I just think too much, he thought as he smiled and took a sip from the thermos of hot coffee he had brought to keep him awake.
The road became steeper as the classic red Jaguar climbed with ease up the mountain. Blind curves twisted along the pass making it nearly impossible to tell where the road turned to nothing, but you can never really see where the danger lies no matter how well travelled the road may be, so he followed the inside, and left the rest to chance.
Up ahead a shocking vision broke through the peace of the night. He saw lights beaming up into the sky. Sparks danced among the beams like fireflies on a summer night. He stopped abruptly causing the loose gravel to carry the car sideways toward the edge before coming to a stop. Suddenly everything moved in slow motion.
He stepped out of the car and approached the lights in a labored jog. He made it to the edge of the road to see a heap of mangled steel where a car used to be. It rested half way over the edge stopped by a large oak tree that continued to shower blood-red leaves down upon the scene. He held on to branches and underbrush as he pulled himself down to the crumpled driver's side door fearing the horror he was about to see.
He made it to the car and peered inside. One man sat behind the wheel draped in the deflated airbag that did little to save him from the crushing blow of the impact. Blood trickled down his face and soaked through his dark colored suit. He breathed in labored breaths that always ended abruptly as the stabbing pain of broken ribs pressed into his lungs.
"Sir, can you hear me?" Artie asked as he leaned through the broken window. The man's eyes met his and blinked slowly as his lips moved without sound. "Don't try to speak. I'm going to call an ambulance, but we have to get you out of here. There are sparks coming from under the hood. The car is going to go up in flames at any minute."
"Noooo," the man moaned like a ghost in an old horror movie, and reached out a hand toward Artie.
Artie took his hand choking back the emotions that swelled inside him, "We have to get you out of here. The car is about to explode… it will kill you."
"Too late," the man moaned again and Artie's own breath became labored as a hint of desperation set in, "get out of here. You will die too Artie."
Artie's mouth fell open in an involuntary motion. He knows me, Artie thought, and he leaned in closer and looked the man in the face. There before him older and distorted from pain was the face of a man he hadn't seen in over thirty years. "Richard," he said in a whisper and clasped his old friend's hand tighter.
He had set out on the journey to exorcise some of the old demons from his past, but he had had no idea that he would come face to face with the one that he feared the most. Richard Douglas had been his mentor when he had started in the NSA. He was older and wiser, and had seen things that Artie had been too broken to see at the time. He had been young and brazen, and damaged by the horrors that he had left behind him in the Soviet Union. He and Richard quickly became more than partners, and their friendship had carried him through many dark days.
Richard had sworn to help him get his family out of the Gulags, but at the time he couldn't see how the two of them could take on such a powerful entity, so when the offer came to trade trinkets for his family members he never questioned the wisdom of what he was doing. He couldn't tell anyone, not even Richard, which drove a wedge between them that he had never managed to remove. After he realized what he had really been doing, that the trinkets were dangerous weapons that he had been handing over to the enemy, he knew it was too late. He was swept away into another world of secret agents and objects with the power to destroy the world, and his friendship with Richard had been left behind. Even if he could have spoken to him, what would he have said? To Richard he was a traitor and a spy, and he would never earn his forgiveness.
"Richard, I…I can't believe it's you," Artie stammered and reached out a hand to touch the face of the friend that he regretted hurting more than anyone he had ever betrayed. Richard looked up at him with an expression he had never seen on anyone's face before. A chill ran down Artie's spine, and he backed away from the car as an uncontrollable reaction.
"You betrayed your country Artie…you betrayed me," Richard said, his voice growing stronger, "I would have helped…" another painful breath cut his sentence short and he closed his eyes.
"Please Richard! I've got to get you out of here. I can't let you die like this!" Artie exclaimed with agony and desperation outweighing reason, but Richard shook his head.
"It doesn't matter Artie," he began again, "I am an old man. I have lived my life as best I could and this is the end. All that matters now is tying up the loose ends that I don't want to leave behind."
Artie opened the door of the car and wrapped an arm under the dying man's arm, "I'm not leaving you behind." He pulled the man free of the car as he tried in vain to ignore his screams of agony. Adrenalin took over as he held most of Richard's weight up and climbed the steep embankment. They made it to the roadside, and Artie sat down, still holding his friend in his arms.
"You…never did…learn…when you…were doing more…harm than good," Richard muttered between short gasps. He didn't have the strength to fight anymore, so he lay back against Artie's chest and closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry Richard, I didn't mean to make it worse I was trying to help you," Artie said as he looked down at him.
A little laugh escaped the withered man's lips that took Artie by surprise. "I guess that's just who you are," he said with a slight smile.
"I'm sorry Richard. I'm sorry for everything. I didn't know what I was doing until it was too late. When I realized I turned myself in, I tried to make amends. I still do every day."
"You did what you had to Artie; we all did. I tried to find you years ago, but you had changed you name. I had given up, but I guess fate had other plans," he smiled again.
"I should have found you, Richard. I should have made things right," Artie said as much to himself as to his old friend.
"Maybe," Richard began, "but none of it matters now. I forgive you. You were always a good man, Artie. We all make mistakes, and sometimes we don't see that the biggest mistake of all is hiding from them."
A tear ran down Artie's face as he thought about the past. There were so many things he regretted, and now he was holding another friend as he died, just like he had James MacPherson. He would have done anything to change some of the things that had happened over the years. He couldn't help but feel that somewhere along the way he had let them both down and now it was too late to change anything.
"Richard," he said softly as he pulled the old man closer to him, but there was no reply. Artie felt his body freeze from grief. Richard was gone. He was alone on a deserted road, with nothing around for miles except the memories that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He felt the memories turning to pain that stabbed him in the chest like daggers. Out here there was no one but the demons that followed him, that poked and kicked at him, the reminded him of all the loved ones he had lost along the way to that spot and that moment in time.
He bent down over as the pain turned to tears that poured down his face. Here on a cold October night he would face all of the demons, not just a woman he had left behind more years ago than he could remember. He would say goodbye to them all. He would scream out loud. He would curse the sky. He would lie down against the cold gravel, too exhausted to move anymore, but somewhere he knew that there was a warm bed, a hot cup of coffee, and the love of his adopted family waiting to welcome him back home, no matter how far the road may lead him astray.