THE AMBER CRISIS (part 1)
No sooner had the horizon reached my eyes over the steady hill in the road, I heard a loud pop. It was ear-shattering; almost like the sound of balloon popping, 10 times over. Only, this time, I was pretty sure the balloon was my tire. My car violently swerved to the right, like a door on its hinges, and I frantically spun the wheel the opposite way. It was all a useless feeble attempt to regain control. The second pop came seemingly out of nowhere, and my struggling trials at control made no difference. I saw the side of the road coming closer, and, against my will braced myself. I was numb to reality and all I felt. The light cast by my headlights on the road in front of me, and the blood red flash of my break lights. Bright lights as my body met the wheel, and my world went black.
I was a stocky young man dressed in a tux standing at the altar. Only, I wasn't me, I was someone else, somewhere else. The small crowd around me was chattering, discussing and whispering something. There was no bride beside me on the altar, only the groomsmen. A worried woman that appeared in her 60's, with pearl white hair, scurried awkwardly in my direction. She beckoned my head forward, and whispered in my ear,
Scott, I'm so sorry, she's run away.
My dream gave way to reality, and shapes and blurs birthed themselves out of nothing. A little ray of light made its way through my squinting barely opened eyelids. It must have been morning. The time and place were topics of questions begging to be asked. Groaning, I shifted my weight, felt shards of shattered glass, and realized I was on my stomach, still remaining in my car. In a haze, I processed that my Ford Explorer had flipped itself. The steering wheel was protruding into my side, and I began to claw my way out from under the over turned car. Every article of my body ached, even parts I didn't know I had. Dragging myself, my feet trailing behind, I managed to lift myself out of the driver window frame onto the sun lit road. Standing up, the unsettling information that I had no idea where I was, hit me like a brick. Possibly a bag of bricks.
I made my way to one of the deflated wheels, and ran my hand along its surface. There was nearly a clean-cut hole, bored into the wheel. The whole picture looked like one of the cartoon suns; with the lines coming off it. Buried a few inches deep was a silver bullet; a canary in a coal mine. I leapt back, stumbling over my feet and my words.
What the hell?, I whispered softly, with undeniable puzzlement and panic.
I gazed out into the vast backdrop I had been trust into, only, this wasn't a Hollywood movie. There was nothing for miles and miles as far as my eyes could detect. The desert rippled like waves in the ocean of rock and sand, and I was just a cast away, like Tom Hanks, on the raft with Wilson. Several paranoid scenarios assaulted my mind; Texas Chain saw massacre, Saw- I had seen too many horror movies where bad things happen to good people. I dove into my pockets, and came out empty handed. My Verizon cell phone was in pieces beside the wreck.
Suddenly, my head jerked up, detecting a faint noise at a distance. It felt almost like a dream, in the midst of my daze. The skimming, gliding, noise of wheels against the pavement reached my ears. I spun myself half way around to catch a glimpse of an oncoming 18-wheeler truck. The head cab was a dark blue, and the driver seemed to be tall and gawky; he looked like a serial killer or something. Someone might have kicked my butt with a lead boot, because I was jumping up and down and waving my arms like a crazy person.
HEY! HEY! COME ON! HELP ME PLEASE! I shouted at the top of my lungs, but the blaring engine drowned out my cries.
Desperately, and absent mindedly, I started running after the truck, which was fading out of view. In my rush of adrenaline, I neglected that I had no idea where I was going, but did I have any other choice?
I dropped pace, panting, as if I had just ran in Track and Field states for the 100-meter dash. Dripping with sweat, I leaned my weight against a signpost nearby. I could no longer see what had once been my explorer. The large wooden post dug into my arm, and my eyes met its aged, white painted letters.
The looming font read, Gas station, next 7.3 miles.
My eyes sprung to life, and I gazed in the direction the sign indicated, scanning the road ahead. At this point, it all seemed so surreal. I shrugged off the pain in my side, and started my walk down the lonely road, limping.
The heat was rising from the surface in transparent waves, and I was sweating profusely. It all seemed to drone on forever, but I tried to keep my mind strong. I analyzed the life I knew, and the two sides of myself I seemed to show. Of course, there were the minor occurrences, more on the stupid side. I had done my share of dumb things. But, truth is, I had lied too many times; never really been honest with myself. I wasn't a Sunday school preacher, and I learned to accept such things, but they still hit close to home. Karma had always come around for me. In the moments of my journey, I concentrated hard on what I had done up to this point.
I had always been the shy type of kid growing up in a peaceful little neighborhood. Nothing really rocked my world, except maybe cartoons on Saturday mornings, and McDonald's happy meal toys. Run, run, and run. That's what I did away from the future. I would surround myself with the past, always with a feeling of nostalgia, fearing what lay ahead. I spent most of my childhood as an only child, until my brother and sister were born, so, nobody was really around. I grew up lonely with no one around; that is, until I met her.
It was a hairy-chest-ed guys walking around shirtless June day, and I was sitting on the front stone steps. A moving truck was backing in across the street, and I perked up, in curiosity. I was more than shocked when a girl stepped down from the truck. It was like one of those slow motion movie scenes, like with a super model. There might have actually been a fan nearby, the way her long dark brown hair was blowing in the wind. She looked up, in my direction, and met my gaze. She had gleaming blue eyes, and I noticed she wore a golden locket . I looked away nervously; I had practice doing this from class.
I officially met this girl a few weeks later at a gas station, pumping gas. Unfortunately, I was stuck driving my dad's old truck. Like an idiot, I had dropped my key, and my cell phone on the ground. I instinctively scrambled to retrieve them, however, a delicate hand interrupted my path. The hand then returned the objects to their owner.
Hey, uh, thanks a lot, I really appreciate that
No problemmmm. Sup'? I've seen you around; I don't know if you caught my name; I'm Amber, she said in a romantic voice.
She stood, swaying delicately in the breeze, and my jaw was on the floor. I'm pretty sure it was one of the top 10 awkward experiences in my life.
I think I moved across the street from you, she said.
Uh- yeah, yeah that's right- true- yeah I know you, I stumbled over my words.
She pointed to my borrowed car.
Heyyy, I like a guy that drives a truck. Besides a guy in uniform, of course! Amber joked, laughing.
I laughed along nervously, and she nodded.
So I'll uhm, see ya around, right? the girl asked, turning on her spot and floating away.
I was so dumb; all those dating movies, and nada, zero, zippo.
The next evening, I was outside of my house, playing my guitar on the porch. She pulled up in her silver Dodge neon with the windows down.
Get in! the driver shouted, while still keeping her sweet voice.
She saw that I was hesitant and motioned again.
Come on, get it!
I jumped the stairs and ran around to the other side of the car, swinging the door open. The stereo was cranked, so we were speaking loudly.
Sup? she asked in a radiant voice.
I nodded, and cracked a smile, Not too much, what's goin' on?
Well, make believe that tonight, we live forever, she added.
Amber hit the gas, and we peeled off down the road. Amidst the music, I saw the lake come into view. The beautiful driver turned the car into the lake parking lot, and the tires came to a screeching halt.
Let's go! she had swung my door open and grabbed my hand.
The next thing I knew, our feet were smacking the wooden boards of the pier. Amber stood in place for a second, panting, and waiting for me to catch up.
wha.. *breath* what was that *breath* about?
She simply smiled.
How do you like your life? she asked.
I shrugged, It's good, yeah.
But have you really lived? the girl questioned, leaving me with a look of confusion.
I guessI guess so.
You've gotta learn to take risks in life! Take advantage of the fact you're alive!
I wasn't grasping the concept, and she took notice.
I just haven't had the best chance to really do that, I said shamefully.
Come on, she said, taking my hand.
She hoisted herself onto the railing of the pier, and smirked.
Persuasively, she beckoned, What have you got to lose? and let her feet slip from under her, jumping to the placid, and now choppy, waters bellow.
It was raining, and I knew there was a police car around the corner, but there was also a chance to take. I pulled my body weight onto the railing ledge, and plunged into the lake after her. It was comfortably warm for being a chilling night.
We treaded water, and she came closer,
You see, don't let the chill in the air influence your temperature! Don't let everyone else influence you, duh.
A brief silence.
So close we could brush noses, and Amber locked her lips with mine.
They say, years fly by, but it isn't until you harness the saying that it makes any sense. With every new day, I felt myself growing closer to Amber. She made it a point to hold me to my plans with her, and each night, we carved our names into the memories of our town. In fact, she would, unknowingly, teach me some kind of lesson when we saw one another. Then, every night, we made it a tradition to walk the sands of the beach, having long in depth discussions about life.
It was a chilly autumn evening, and she handed me a leaf, stranded from its tree. The bottom 1/3 of the leaf was submersed in water, leaving a frozen, crystal-like appearance. But the top was a green, blending into a changing color in the middle.
That's so weird, I said, running my fingers over its surface
Yeahhh, I know, right, Amber responded, studying the leaf intensely.
There's three sections, I wonder why, I questioned.
Well, the way I say it, she said. it's all about changes. No matter what the leaf looks like, it's still the same leaf in the end. This probably should be completely turned by now, but it withstood the elements. It gave the best of all the seasons, and never died. So, I guess we're all just trying to stand the test of time.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, I dug up the courage to ask the question. Mind you, I had never had a girlfriend before, so this was a big deal for me. I called Amber at about 7:30 one night. Just had to remember the courage part, as I winced.
Hey, do me a favor, and meet me at the pier, okay? I asked her, begging for suspicion.
It was more than nerve racking to make out Amber's approaching silhouette, as I waited on the stale ply wood boards of the pier. She swayed in her step, and ceased about an inch away, her golden locket bouncing.
*
I was half way down the street, and playing the scene in my mind, my legs still shaking. I had been convinced that she might give me a steady, no, and I'd be listening to emo music on full blast now. Preferably this really bad band, The Amber Crisis, from Connecticut. Kevin, their singer, had a voice that made my ears bleed. But that's beside the point. Amber was finally mine, and I was sure I would be happy from now onor so I thought.
The morning seemed to come early, stealing away what little sleep I had acquired. I smiled; my girlfriend. How nice that was to say. My feet met the floor, and I began my day, a new boy.
About noon, my fingers were pressing the keys on my phone in rhythm with Amber's digits. No answer, only the same answering machine message. Puzzled, I closed the phone, and realized how much good it had done me.
I didn't hear from Amber for the next few days, however, I tried not to be the stalker boyfriend attributed to obsessive calling. In worry, I finally decided to run across the street to pop my head in. It was pouring, thundering and lightning at a distance, and by the time I got there, I was soaked.
There was no dodge neon in the driveway, and the door stood wide open, swinging in the breeze, producing a slow creaking sound. A flash of lightning, and I could have sworn I saw a shape inside the house. Noises were floating through the air; whispering, shifty voices. The rain was coming down in buckets, like someone poured the ocean into a spaghetti strainer. Paranoid, I grabbed hold of the nearest closet object, a garden hoe. I made my way up the steps, cautiously and steadily, through the open doorway.
The interior of the house was perfectly in place, but there was an un-denying aura that made my spine shiver. I slowed my step to a cautious fearful pace, and my eyes darted right to left in their sockets. I could feel my lungs expanding shallowly and heavily. The only sound audible aside from the shuffling of my shoes was the sound of muffled music. There was a lone window at the end of the hallway, illuminated by lighting strikes. I rounded the corner into a dimly lit room; my heart pounding in my chest, sweat dripping down my face. I half expected to discover a gruesome scene, but there was a lone computer in the corner, playing music from an i-tunes screen. The computer was actually the shape I had seen. I recognized the song as Island by The Starting Line:
Let's sail away
Find our own country
We'll build a house and beds out of palm trees
Let's get away
Let's push our lives aside
As I often do, I became frenzied, and even more paranoid, and I began to shout Amber's name through the halls.
Amberrrr?!, my voice echoed off the plaster.
*
A police officer stood in our living room, shaking his head. No we've done all we can or we'll keep looking, could shake the ultimate truth. Officer Eric had gone on countless police searches, and several crime scene investigations. She wasn't dead, at least they didn't think. And, they were slowly ruling out a kidnapping. Instead, he gave me the stats. One in seven kids between the ages of 10 and 18 will run away at some point. Every 40 seconds in the United States, a child is reported missing or. That translates to over 2,000 children per day or 800,000 per year. But, in the end it only translated to:
Amber had run away from home.
Three years later, the mail came early on a Friday. Just as the squatty mailman climbed into his rectangular prison, I was throwing on my vans, and dashing out the door. The spring door narrowly avoided my dog, and I made my move for the mailbox. I flipped the lid ajar and thrust my arm inside. In that second, I knew how Mike Tyson must have felt in the boxing ring. It was all just a matter of whose ear I would take off. The college acceptance letter I had been hoping for was absent from where I had hoped it would have sat. Planning for the future; I was tired of it. Instead, there were the usual bills. The kind of mail you shift through, passing each one and thinking, not for me, not for me, and so on. But much to my disarray there was an oddly shaped package amongst the tedious bills. I felt my fingers close around the mysterious object, as I raked it forward.
Now, what is this. Some more spam?, I thought out loud.
The front label was typed in a font that almost looked like a ransom note, and the return address puzzled me even more:
Golden, Colorado
1318 Dumph Road06461
I slid my finger under the flap and tore open the envelope to reveal its contents. Skeptically, I shuffled my hands around to meet three things. One, being a square shape with a glossy coating, and sharp edges. The other, a letter, and the third, a skeleton key. Studying the shape, I immediately realized it was a medium sized Polaroid. I turned to the back of the photo, which had writing scribbled across it: Don't let the chill in the air influence your temperature. A folded piece of paper lay dormant in the envelope, sealed with a kiss. Quickly, I unfolded the papyrus-looking sheet of paper, to make way to a small chicken scratch paragraph.
I need your help more now than ever! I ran into trouble, and I can't bring myself to find any means of escape. Please help me, please, I'm begging you. I still love you, and I'm sorry for all that I've done. You may be the only one that can save me. However, there will be another facing this same task.
I turned the picture front side, and my eyes met a figure from the shoulders up, of a beautiful young girl. She had long flowing brown hair, and brown eyes, with a facial complexion that made my insides churn. She wore a V-neck and a golden locket . My heart melted, and I mouthed a name, half in question, half in awe; Amber? Was this some kind of joke? After all those years she had run away, I still loved her too. You don't forget someone like that easily. My brain was about to explode, when I noticed an approaching car, coming to a steady stop. Swiftly, I stuffed the mail into the pocket of my track jacket, and pretended I had dreamt up the whole thing.
I thought nothing of the letter again, until my last summer at home rolled around. I sat on my bed, looking through old pictures, growing more and more nostalgic; nostalgia had always been my tragic flaw. I saw snap shots of Amber and I, glowing with happiness, and it brought a smile to my face. Suddenly, like fate, a certain page became evident to my awareness. An unusual glossy coated page, with a certain leaf pressed to the paper. A leaf with 3 sections, blending into one another, although it wasn't as I remembered it. It had seen the effects of time, as much as I had tried to preserve it. It's sad to think of how many years fly by, and all the time we've wasted in our lives. I just wanted to turn time counterclockwise...
It was then, that I reintroduced the letter. I re-read its calls for help in distress, several times. After about an hour, I came to my conclusion. I would take the letter's offer. I mean, why not? I had not allowed myself to stand the test of time, and I would be redeemed. What did I have to lose? I had a car, so I could sneak off, take a road trip, and be back sooner than later. Easier said than done, of course, but I was in an erratic, sporadic mood.
The last series of events I remember, began with taking an exit ramp, arriving at small run-down shack town. I stopped at one of the shanties for directions, seeing as Map Quest had done me wrong. The old woman who owned the shack was a hunchback, with pearl white hair, and apparently hard of hearing.
I need to know how I can get to 1318 Dumph Road, mam.
WHAT?! Well you probably need the bathroom, sir.
NO, NO, DUMPH ROAD, PLEASE! I screamed.
One thing led to another, she handed me a meatball, and I was on my way.
About and hour into my drive, I was dizzy from the endless yellow lines and desert scenery. I was in the middle of nowhere, and keeping myself awake by singing. The only radio station that came in was playing that song ain't no mountain high enough. I was keeping myself awake by singing, ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough, ain't no river wide enoughhh to keep me from getting to youu. No sooner had the horizon reached my eyes over the steady hill in the road, I heard a loud pop.
Suddenly, in the midst of my movie-like flashback, a huge building came into view, and I squinted to assure myself it was real.
It was like a scene out of the aforementioned Texas chain saw massacre; abandoned gas station and all. The gas pumps were a vibrant golden-brown color, reminiscent of its rust, which made them appear like stone age-esque machines. All three of the garage doors were shut tightly against the arid wind. Corpses of old fashioned cars piled high on the premises, sloping downward to the ground like avalanching mountains. There were no $5.00 gas prices, no quick snack shop, no lotto tickets, and, come to think of it, no people. The only link to the 21st century was an advertisement on the garage for Coca Cola. Beneath the glistening bottle was the word, CHILL. Marketing these days.some gas station this was. I stopped to listen in the deafening silence. I could only hear the hard thump and scuffle of my shoes against the surface; a mix of large gravel stones, dirt, and dust.
In a useless trial, I bellowed, Hey! Is anybody in hereee?!
Reverberations of my Echo. No answer. Silence. I paused, and shifted over to a large and ominous looking door. I made the motion to knock several times, before tapping my fist lightly.
Helloooooo? Anyone here? Anyone at all? Can you help me out?.
I almost had a heart attack, and my blood ran cold. My pulse was quickening. An asymmetrical silhouette was casting itself against the foggy window in the center of the main door. The noise of the padlock and keys jingling was so audible in the silence, it could've woken the dead. The door creaked open, and I feared it would fall out of its frame.
In the door way, stood a tall, lanky man, pale and stern in appearance, and slightly hunched over. His long arms hung at his sides, one of which was buried in the pocket of his one-piece gray jumpsuit. The man brushed his long black braided hair out of his eyes, and squinted to get a good look at me. It was as if I was a picture on a TV screen, and he sniffled, his straggly beard shifting with the nose movement. He was, in all respects, a pirate. The demonic man even had an eye patch. He opened his lips to form words, but quickly shut them again. I took this chance to form mine, but he reformed his words,
Who are ye? He demanded, with an overlying casual tone.
He was getting closer, so close I could smell the awful stench of sour cream and onion chips andI didn't want to know what else.
Uhuhmmy my car- I had an accident down the road, I said, stammering, and pointing in the direction from which I had come. I was fiddling with Amber's letter to give my fingers something to do besides sweat.
I don't get much company here, savvy? I'm a lonely dog and I have a telephone at the desk for ye needs. You wanna come in?
I hesitated, but when he noticed my anxiety, and lowered his anger, I agreed to his bargain. One foot through the entrance. I took a deep breath, and placed the second one on the other side of the doorframe. John, as his nametag promptly read, followed close behind, watching my every move.
There was absolutely nothing in the interior of the office. Nothing at all, the room was empty and lacked all furnishing felt my eyes falling to the counter, which was a barren wasteland, but the pirate received my glare.
Keep yer eyes to your self, boy, telly is over here, he scolded.
My eyes were wandering, and I noticed a picture frame on the wall, hanging crookedly. It was a photo of a boy and a girl in front of a gas station in a pick up truck. The smiling boy with black hair, and the girl with fine dark brown.
*crash* a stone collided with the picture frame, and it sailed to the ground, smashing the casing. I dodged its path, and narrowly avoided the falling shards. He was panting, but soon regained his composure, and placed a dial up phone on the counter top. I had seen one at my grandma's house, but I didn't think they were used by anyone younger than 80.
Air ya go, boy, just dial '9' te call out, he said hastily, nudging the phone.
My ear met the receiver of the phone, I placed my finger into the first number dial, and spun. I leaned against the counter and waited for an answer on the other end nervously. Abruptly, the wire of silence was cut, and after a few seconds a mysterious female voice came on the line.
Life is what you make it.
Click; all feeling in my body ceased. There was no doubt that the voice belonged to the girl I loved. I threw the phone down, and approached John with rage.
WHAT IS GOING ON?!
John held his ground, CALM YERSELF!, he reproached.
NO I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS AMBER?!
John continually denied having seen any trace of Amber. Both scared and confused, I pushed the pirate aside, and swiftly shoved open the door. Nothing made sense! Why was the return address on the letter identical to that of the gas station? I was backtracking the way I had come, and I didn't dare to look behind me.
My heart stopped. A large dark figure was motionless, seemingly awaiting my passing. I slowed my pace, and tried to control my breathing. Approaching cautiously, with utter and complete care, I crept closer. The shadowed object was actually an old rusted pick up truck. In appearance, it was ancient; a relic from the great depression at least. Only, I knew the car hadn't acquired that many years, based on its emissions sticker on the greasy smeared windshield. Near by was another shadowed object, which came into focus as a black and white police car. Bewildered, I studied both cars, checking for any sign of life. I ran my fingers over the rough metal body, and sent my gaze downward at their bottom half. The force of my discovery crippled me.
Both car tires shared similar marks, and the same that marked my tires as scars. There were obvious bullet holes in each of the tires; it had been the same attacker. In a craze, I grasped the handle of the police car and thrust the door open. It took little to no force to almost break the door from its hinges. Frantically, I searched for anything I could manage to uncover. Nothing but cigarettes, soda bottles, and scraps lined the interior of the police car. However, something long and rectangular caught my eye on the passenger seat. I snatched the rectangle from the leather seat cushion, and managed to blow off the thin layer of dust.
No doubt, it was a letter, almost exactly like mine. Ransom note font, the pleas for help; it was all identical. The owner of this letter had apparently been on the same mission as I was. Amber had said there would be somebody else in this with me.
. I was hyper ventilating as it began to come together. That ad on the gas station had said, CHILL, and the writing on the photo warned, don't let the chill in the air influence your temperature. The pick-up truck, the address, it had to be more than coincidence. I fished for the skeleton key in my pocket, and jammed it in the keyhole of the truck, and the cop car. Nothing. Apparently this key was meant for another purpose. I took off sprinting, faster than ever, away from the police car and truck towards the semi-abandoned gas station.
I was done being a paranoid coward; it was time for the truth. Determination flowed in my veins, and I refused to give up this time. I would find Amber, because I knew she was alive somewhere; she let me hear her voice on the phone line. Her subtle clues would not go to waste. No more regretting the past, or fearing the future. The golden rustic pumps came into perspective, and I reached them with a sense of achievement. No more giving up, I would find her, if it was the last thing I did. This whole journey had truly helped me to find myself; it was all a blessing in disguise. I made a beeline for the door, but my path was intercepted by a stocky man in a blue police uniform.
FREEZE! he demanded, gun in hand.
His glistening golden badge made itself apparent. Scott was holding me pinned to the ground, and the shadowed figure of John the pirate was behind him with a crow bar.
*
...To Be Continued