What Will You Say When Time is Running Out.

“The following message is transmitted at the request of the United States government. This is not a drill...” the affectless voice said over the car radio.

I reached over and turned the dial to off. We had already heard this 10 minutes ago. Nothing had changed. We were all fucked. I glanced over to the driver seat where James had his hands so tight on the steering wheel, that his knuckles were actually white.

“We don’t have time for this!” he said as the car moved three inches and stopped again.

No shit Sherlock. We are out of time. I felt an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. Without thinking, I opened the car door and stepped out into the high grass. We had been traveling in the breakdown lane for the last 10 miles.

James yelled at me, “get back in the car!” His face a mix of fear and frustration.

The tall grass on my legs was making me itch a little. I surveyed the scene. The traffic going north of the city was at a standstill. Two lanes plus the breakdown lane held cars bumper to bumper as far as I could see ahead of us. I turned looking back the same way we came and it was the same. There were several trucks and SUV’s, trying to drive on the grass at intervals, but the steep slope made it slow going. I could see the couple in the Honda Civic behind us. She was sobbing. He was trying to console her.

I turned back to James, “Are you coming?”

He looked at me incredulously. “Get back in the car!” he yelled.

“I’m not having my last minutes in a car, on the highway!” I screamed back.

That registered for him. I could see it in his look. He went from fear and frustration to the look of resignation. The look born from experience of a fight that could not be won. “Give me a minute.” he said.

I closed the door and walked a little further down the steep sloping grassy area that led to the sweep of woods that abutted the highway as far as the eye could see. There was probably a neighborhood back through those trees, but I couldn’t see anything but the promise of dappled shade within.

James pulled the car onto the grass. The RAV 4 seemed to tilt precariously on the sloping grass. Weeds consisting of Queen Anne’s lace and black-eyed Susan’s swayed in the soft breeze as he shut the door. I heard the sharp beep of the car lock as he made his way around the car and hurried down through the grass.

“What the fuck Gabbie!” Now his face had that more familiar exasperated look exclusively reserved for me.

“Look. I’m not dying in a car. I’m not going to be incinerated waiting to go nowhere. Let’s just get away from the crowd and find a place over there.” I said pointing to an area of dimness beyond the first several trees.

James followed me down through the grass in the familiar manner of a man who did not agree with the woman in front of him, but was wise enough to know not to interfere with the process. As we entered the edge of the trees, I was surprised there were no suburbia houses in sight. The forest was a mix of pines and hardwoods, mulched by years of leaves. Ferns popped up where the sunlight filtered in enough. The terrain sloped upward and there was a large granite outcropping, patches of sunlight playing on parts of it. We started towards it.

“We are not going to make it to your aunt’s today.” I said slightly out of breath from the incline.

“I know that.” He said surveying the rock formation and pointing toward a flatter outcropping that would afford a more comfortable place to sit.

We sat down and I stifled the urge to look at my iPhone. What was I going to do? Verify for the thousandth time that two lunatics in power had escalated their war games to the point of no return? There were no take backs on what they had done.

I sighed and I had a reflexive banal thought that I would need to cancel my dental appointment on Tuesday. I let out a small giggle.

“What?” James asked.

“I was about to whip out my cell phone to cancel a dental appointment.”

He chuckled at that. As the amusement faded, the weight of the moment pressed in.

“What the fuck! How much time do you think we have?” I asked.

“Does it matter at this point?” he looked at me earnestly.

“Yes, it matters! There are things I should probably say!”

“Then say them.”

I tried to think of important things to say. Things befitting of the last minutes of my life. Instead, I blurted, “This feels like playing scrabble with that damn little sand timer! You know? When you have really good tiles, and you know you could make an amazing word but it just isn’t coming. And you can see the white sand dimple in the top chamber getting bigger, and you end up throwing down some stupid 3 tile move that isn’t worth anything.”

“Kind of like jumping in the car like we had no time to lose, trying to get to my aunt’s house. That might have been my stupid move.” He rejoined.

“I don’t think that was stupid! I’m glad we tried it. Otherwise, we would be in our crappy little apartment without AC trying to have a conversation about our lives being about to end and being just as unproductive.” As if on cue, a light cool breeze set the leaves high in the canopy gently rustling.

James turned to me, a serious look on his face. Seconds passed in silence and I could see he was about to say something really profound. At last, the words came out, “You know, I’ve never told you this, but… I want to be cremated when I die.”

His mouth quirked up and we both started laughing. The absurdity of the moment and the morbid reality existing together so perfectly.

As I wiped away the tear that had escaped when the laughter started, I could picture the very last granules of sand starting to quickly slide down the neck of the hourglass into the lower chamber. A feeling of peace settled within me, and this time, the right words seemed to bubble up from my core.

“Of all the people in this world, I am so glad I’m doing this with you.” I declared.

He gave me a warm smile and added, “Likewise.”

Then he fixed his gaze outward, surveying the nature around us. After a few moments he turned to face me and said resolutely, “I’m glad we had time for this.”