Molten

“Shit.” Tim unbuckled himself and looked around. A typical turnpike rest stop, an edifice to McDonalds and bathrooms.

He stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him. The rest stop was moderately busy, a late afternoon surge that would only increase as the after-work mob joined. He could see Rachel weaving her way into the entrance, apparently having decided to pee before smoking. Made sense.

He followed in her wake, cautious and aware. He hadn’t been around other people since before the hospital. He would have been trepidatious in this situation in normal circumstances, being on a half real cosmic mission only exacerbated his unease. He normally liked to meet peoples’ eyes as he passed, giving a slight nod when appropriate. Now he felt more inclined to keep his gaze on the ground. He wasn’t sure he knew how to relate to normal people on any level at this point.

He cautiously made his way inside, having long lost the more confident Rachel. He felt no urge to pee so he decided to just get the food and go. No need to add navigating a busy (and likely gross) rest stop bathroom to his first public endeavor. He still wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to just ask for the food. He started his countdown to judgement by shuffling to the back of the far right of three lanes full of people waiting to make their orders. Each line had about eight people in it so Tim waited on the one closest to the exit. When he got in that line something a bit odd happened.

The group ahead of him, three adults who looked to be in their thirties, couldn’t decide on an order and stepped out of line. He took a few steps forward to his new spot behind a heavily bearded and tattooed man. Within moments of taking his place, the man ahead of Tim turned to face him. Tim made eye contact with the first person besides Rachel in forever. The men met his gaze for a moment then walked away un-hurriedly.

“Not sure my stomach could take this.” Thrown with a smile over his shoulder as he turned and left.

Now the only obstacle between him and the front counter of McDonalds was a large, bickering family. Tim didn’t step forward to fill the space left by his biker buddy. He didn’t want to get any closer because he was afraid they would all find a sudden reason to leave, and that had already gotten creepy, plus he knew very well to stay as far from the orbit of a boisterous family as possible. With rogue eight-year-olds like this group had you couldn’t really get far enough.

A cellphone belonging to one of the adults rang a generic ring. He answered it with the exasperation of someone who was already trying to do seven things too many.

“Yes?” He knew the person on the other end judging by the way he kept most of the irritation out of his voice.

“Oh? Great!” He hung up and slid his phone into his pocket. He quickly rounded everyone up and herded them towards the other side of the seating area. Another member of their traveling party (lacrosse Tim guessed) had scored food for everyone.

“Shit.” The twenty empty feet between Tim and the counter seemed like a vast and unreasonable abyss.

He walked up, going for super casual.

“What can I get for you?” A pleasant looking older woman manned this particular register. A retiree earning extra money he supposed.

“Hi. Yeah, I’d like two double cheese burgers plain, two McChicken sandwiches with extra mayonnaise and two large cokes please.” He rattled off the order as quickly as he dared “Oh, not a lot of ice in those cokes. Please. Thanks.” Not smooth, maybe passable.

“Sure.” She smiled politely at him but Tim had a feeling he wouldn’t want to be caught snatching a cooling pie from her window sill. “Be right up.”

She concentrated on the register, adept if not proficient. Tim realized that at least some of what she was doing must have been pageantry since she was still pushing at her screen when a young woman came from the back with a large bag and a soda tray. She placed them in front of him and walked away. His cashier was still engaged in whatever she was doing to her register.

Feeling decidedly weird Tim grabbed the bag and tray and turned to the exit, a departing “Thanks” to his fast-food benefactors. Normal life Tim checked the order before leaving. Finding out a “plain” burger isn’t actually plain when you get home was an enraging experience. Dream journey Tim just left with the bags unopened and unchecked.

No one so much as glanced at him and no cries rose from behind him, so Tim figured he was good. Even in this day and age the rest stop did not have automatic doors, forcing Tim to grumble and back his way out the doors, balancing the food and drinks against his chest like precious cargo.

He stepped outside, the sun low and fat to his right. It was one of those times when the light seemed to reflect right off glass, turning much of the parking to a field of molten silver rectangles. It took him a moment to orient. That split second where you not only forget where you are going but forget everything except that you exist.

He snapped into reality and remembered he was looking for a bright blue crossover parked across from the soda machines. Speaking of… Tim swerved a bit to head to the cluster of vending machines instead of the car. Rachel had spotted him by then and looked his way questioningly. She had a joint in her hand and a lit cigarette perched on the curb beside her, small curls of smoke rising up past her dino clad feet. He wondered if she had been this brazen before.

“It’s legal here!” She yelled across the lot to him like she was reading his mind, waving the joint above her head as if without this visual aid he’d be unable to determine what she was talking about.

He shrugged his indifference and walked over to the red bull machine. He awkwardly transferred the bag and drinks to his right arm so he could push the top most button. Sure enough, one dropped down. He put it in one of the empty slots in the drink holder and hit the button again. The machine presented him with another red bull that he added to his drink carousel.

“Don’t get penisy!!” He heard her shouting across to him. He got both the warning and the reference and made his way back.

The joint was no longer in evidence by the time Tim reached the car. Rachel was doing some semi-serious stretching as she worked on the last half of her cigarette.

“Good job.” Tim didn’t think she was being condescending. Was she? “We’ll gas up and go. New Jersey is screwy and won’t let you pump your own gas, that works in our favor now though. We’ll eat in the car as we go.”

She bent down to twist the cigarette out on the small asphalt shelf that had a short while ago been its home. She dragged it until pieces of tobacco sprouted out and the inside of the filter was exposed, then dropped it and got in the car. Tim followed suit, popping the cokes into the center cup holders and the red bulls in the little napkin chute inside his door. He pointedly walked the empty cup tray to the nearest trash and threw it out. It earned him an eye roll and a “hurry up” honk, neither of which lessened his satisfaction as he got back in the car.

“Buckle up and hand the food out, I’ll deal with gas.” Made sense to him, he got to work.