Badlands
The baking sun sucked every last drop of moisture from the world, the gas gauge hovered over empty and the road that stretched away disappeared into the shimmering desert haze.
'Jesus Mom, we gotta stop,' said Hart.
The car slowed to a halt next to an empty parking lot. Nancy drummed her fingernails on the wheel, before turning to the back seat. 'What you think, Howell?'
Howell put down his Bible and gazed at the road ahead. 'The highway to hell is broad, and its gate is wide for the many who choose that way.'
'What the fuck does that mean?' said Nancy.
'It means you'd have to be a fucking idiot to head into the desert with no gas,' said Hart, thankful that Howell had backed her up.
Nancy scrabbled in her bag and then in the glove compartment. 'You got any money?'
'No,' said Hart, the backup money hot in her sock.
Nancy jammed her foot on the accelerator and screeched onto the heat cracked concrete of the parking lot and pulled to a halt in the far corner, under the shadow cast by three large billboards. It was quiet when the engine stopped, the only sound was the chirp of crickets.
'Pass me my lucky dress, will ya?' Nancy said to Howell, as she took off her tee shirt and bra. The thin fabric of the short white muslin hippy tunic she pulled on was sheer against her tanned skin.
'Wish me luck.' She fluffed her long blond hair and slunk off towards the stained white brick sports bar on the other side of the parking lot.
'Do you think she'll come back?' asked Howell.
'She'll come back,' said Hart, as she turned on the radio.
'Maybe she won't. Remember that time in Preston—' said Howell.
'I remember.' Preston was a little harbour village, pastel-painted cottages on a clear blue sea. The memory made Hart squint and rub her eye.
'You think we can go back to the city soon?'
'Not for a while,' said Hart, 'Gabriel's all bent out of shape over what Mom did, said he'd cut her face if he got his hands on her.'
A song she liked came on the radio and Hart turned up the volume. Guitars and drums drifted on the air as she remembered Gabriel's fury. He'd wanted Nancy as his property and she'd laughed at the idea. They had lit out of the city with all sorts of hot threats burning after them.
The song cut out... 'news just in of a shooting in Pine Bluff.'
The report lasted a minute. An estranged husband, a family BBQ; booze, anger and an automatic had left his wife, his four kids, his wife's sister and mother dead. 'more on this when we get it...' The guitars and drums faded back, but Hart turned the radio off.
In the heat, time passed slowly as molasses in an hourglass. The seconds dripped into the minutes. The minutes dripped into an hour. Red dust blew in on the hot air through the open doors and the sun cooked the inside of the car.
'What you reading?' said Hart.
'Leviticus.'
'What's it say?'
'We all sinners that need putting to death,' said Howell.
Three years ago, Nancy had put Howell on to preaching and Hart marvelled at how he stuck at it. He was ten, but he kept teasing bits out of his Bible and into his mind.
'Come on. Let's check out the town.' Hart peeled her damp back from the fake leather seat and Howell put away his Bible and followed her like he always did.
The town was no more than twenty shops lining either side of the highway. Beyond that, a mess of ugly suburbs, studded with white churches that stood among the drab beige houses like tombs in a forgotten graveyard.
'Shitsville,' said Hart. She forgot the name. Even with the 'Welcome to' signpost in front of her, her mind refused to waste energy forming a memory. Some towns and some people were like that. Nothing.
It was Sunday quiet, metal shutters down and empty windows except for a headstone and a cherry wood coffin display in an undertaker’s. The two open shops were a gun shop and a grocery store, as tired as the produce that wilted in the sun. There wasn't even one fast-food restaurant with a bright plastic welcome and free icy air conditioning. Hart hated the roadside joints with their grey burgers and fat-heavy chicken, but the fact there wasn't a single one told her all she needed to know.
'This all?' asked Howell.
'Reckon so.' They had passed through dumps like this before but never stopped. Now lack of money ground them to a halt.
In the grocery store, Hart bought two cheap ice lollies. As she paid, the eyes of the middle-aged clerk lingered on her. The heat stripped her to a thin tee-shirt and shorts, but people stripped her further. Blond hair, blue eyes, tanned skin. Sometimes she wanted the temperature to drop so she could wear a coat, to have a moment away from the flickering eyes that licked around her breasts.
But would you stick around if you knew? Would you still want me?
They sucked the sickly-sweet ices as they returned to the car. They had just finished when Nancy stalked back from the bar.
'This town must be full of fucking queers, won't even buy a girl a drink.' Nancy frowned, her red lips a tight line of frustration.
They each took a bag and waited by the roadside for luck to ride past. Nancy lounged against a street light. It was strong nectar. Usually, a bee would come buzzing after a few minutes. But today the few cars that came along the road kept on going. Hot boredom nagged at them as the shadows grew short then long.
It was late afternoon when they gave up and went to sit in the shade of the billboards. Above them a few birds circled, riding the thermal current.
At last, the day started to end. The blue sky became darker, red fire on the horizon. The heat of day cooled to the warmth of night. Bats flitted across the darkness, black darts across the white moon.
'Guess we're sleeping here,' said Nancy, as she checked her face in the rear-view mirror. She saw Hart's reflection and gave her a wink. 'Still got it. You know sometimes the world throws a bunch of shrivelled dicks at you and there's nothing you can do about bad juju. Man, fuck, there's not one worth the name in this shit hole. Damn shrivelled dick motherfuckers.'
The dense cloud of panic in the base of Hart's skull started to fade, as long as Nancy could pour out scorn and venom, they were going to be OK. Hart folded the back seats down and started to make some space to sleep. When they were little, Nancy had made it a game, a camping adventure. Now they knew they clung to the world by their fingertips.
Bags of clothes and duvets crammed the brown sedan, the trunk full of shoes, wigs in boxes, a few pans, three plates and a zip bag with cutlery from random diners. The bags cocooned them in the small space, made it even smaller. As the night closed in, desperation twitched the corner of Nancy's mouth; she trembled as her dark energy crackled in her. Soon it would ignite the hot heavy air in the small cramped car.
'Why don't you phone her?' said Hart. 'Howell's gonna be hungry soon.'
'Damn it. The things I do for you kids.' Nancy searched for the phone she had pawned weeks earlier. 'Can I use your phone?'
'No credit,' said Hart, as she pulled a few coins from her back pocket. Nancy stared at them, suspicion in her cat green eyes.
At the pay phone, Nancy stalked back and forth; the telephone cord snapping her back like a leash. Soon, she put the phone back on the hook and squatted down as if a heavy weight pressed down on her. Hart guessed her granny had refused the request to wire money. In which case, they were royally screwed.
We'll find some way. Tomorrow we'll get cleaned up and hit the churches, some old-time street preaching will see us through.
Nancy slid into the driver's seat and blew a stream of smoke out of the open door. She waited for it to evaporate into nothing. 'Your granny's dead. The old bitch left us her house.'
The dead woman hadn't liked Hart, made her revulsion clear. She thought Nancy a slut. She had thrust Jesus where he was not wanted. She had used the N-word with enthusiastic relish. She had been sucked dry by her bitter core. She was still her granny.
'How we gonna get there?' said Hart and then it hit her.
Christ. Was that all I gotta say? I'm turning into Mom. Granny wouldn't have been surprised. Always did think I'd turn out bad.
'She left some money. Not much. Mary'll wire it tomorrow.'
'Did Mary get left anything?' said Hart.
'I don't think so. She seemed mighty sad about it.' Nancy smiled with a cat-like pleasure. 'This shithole has a wire place?'
'Yeah, I saw one back in town,' said Hart.
'We got a home now,' said Nancy.
The word didn't mean much to Hart; they had flitted from faceless motel rooms to short-term flats in cheap blocks for as long as she could remember. At least when you blew from one place to another, people never found out. You were safe on the move. Just another face, just another memory that faded into the past.
'What you think? You excited?' said Nancy.
'You hate the place.'
'Why you got to bring everything down? You got a friend there, don't ya?'
Hart hooked up with her cousin Brandi when they were in town.
'Why don't we sell and leave?' asked Hart.
'We might stay a spell. We should settle down for a bit. Make some connections, that sort of shit.'
The hot night air clung to Hart as she tried to get comfortable in the cramped back seat, Howell's head on her lap. In the front, Nancy smoked and gazed into the distance lost in her own thoughts. The half-light of the parking lot made her even more beautiful. Hart waited for her to crumble, waited for tears and memories and loss and longing for words that could have been said. But Nancy just stared out into the black scrubland, a smile on her face.
Sleep rose and gathered Hart up, as she fell towards tomorrow, she thought of what Nancy had said; connections, friends, all those things tugged at her. But people were ice to Hart. She was always ready for them to melt away.
