The wasteland looked bleaker in dark. The weak glow of the headlights reached only a car length in front of him. The slow rumble forward felt like it was mining through the depth of the earth. He adjusted the review mirror to see her. She still hadn’t taken her spot on the seat but remained in the floor boards with her knees hugged against her chest. Her fingers were twice as long as Theodore’s and she used them like a shovel, scooping large amounts of cherry pie into her mouth. The blanket he had given her was still wrapped around her entire body as if the night air gave her a terrible chill. He repositioned the review mirror, gazing back out into the nothing. The road was rough, blown with large amounts of brush and soil, creating clumps in the middle of the road that Theodore did his best to avoid without jostling the car too much. She leaned her head against the door, staring up in to the night sky.

“Does he know about me?” She asked meekly.

“I’m sorry?” Theodore responded, trying to hear her over the engine.

“The man you met with. I have seen him before; does he know about me?”

Theodore sighed.

“I am sure he knows of you; he knows about most things but as far you riding in this car? No, I think that escapes him.”

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulder and turned from him, tucking her head against the seat. He kept driving. The gas gauge was low, so he knew he would have to stop somewhere soon. She seemed to have fallen asleep. Theodore checked his watch. Little past 9:30pm. He guessed he could make it to Wheatland within the next half hour. He wished he had gotten a better look at the map before he got in the car. He glanced at her again. Her long neck rested peacefully on the seat. He slowed the car, little by little, as not to wake her. He cruised the car to a stop just on the side of the road. Opening the glove box, he grabbed the road map and stepped out of the car. The wind was still unforgiving, gusting around so violently that he tossed his hat on the seat to prevent it from flying away. He quietly shut the door as best he could, doing his best to not wake her.

He walked to the front of the car and crouched down in front of the headlights to get a clear look the map. It was crudely made. No large land marks labeled and very little writing on the lines. The wind sent dirt ricocheting off the lenses of his glasses, causing him to squint and glare at the map harder. The howl of the wind combined with the roar of the engine made it hard for him to hear. It wasn’t until he felt the glowing light upon him that he realized he was not alone. He stood up slowly, looking over his shoulder at the vehicle approaching him. It was an old pickup truck, in the darkness he couldn’t see the make, but the general shape of it seemed to be a Ford. Slowly crawling through the dark, barely reaching twenty-five miles an hour. Theodore considered rushing to the driver seat and being on his way. But fleeing down the highway might cause suspicion and he couldn’t risk it. He stuffed the map into his pocket and stood up quicker than he anticipated, causing his heart to race. He put his hand on the car and began slowly walking towards the door, doing his best not arouse suspicion. The truck slowed even more, almost to crawl, stopping just short of his car. He tried to pick out the man in the darkness. He seemed to be a large person, broad shoulders, and large forearms, sitting next to him seemed to be a smaller man wearing a gray cap hunched over asleep. The larger man rolled the window down and called through the wind.

“Ya need some help dare traveler?”

“No, just getting my bearings,” Theodore called back to the man with a wave.

The man popped his door open, stepping one large boot onto the pavement. His jeans were tattered, as was his light blue shirt which was tucked into his pants, with two olive green suspenders fixed over his shoulders. He had a large brown beard, with patched of red peppering the corners and parts of the mustache. His hair was short, poorly combed, with large bits of dandruff falling on his shoulders. He bounded over to Theodore with the speed of a much smaller man.

“Not be very Christian of me to leave you just out here. Yer engine givin you the works mine usually don’t geta goin without a few kicks. Same as ma wife. HA! No, she’s da best, married ten yeers dis upcoming September, she still just as purdy as the day I sawz her.”

The sheer amount of information bombarded Theodore’s head, making him stand there in shock, trying to take in everything the man had said. He tried to respond but couldn’t think what to say.

“Names Walt by da way. Walter Haggard. Wally after a few beers. HA! Yera black fellow. Ain’t see many of dem around here, but as my moma said “never know when you intertaining angels.” And ya look like ya might be an angel. Are you?”

Theodore didn’t even know how to respond to the question or why it was even presented. Walt extended his hand and Theodore shook his hand.

“I am just on my way to Wheatland, is it far?”

“Na na just keep on the highway down the road a piece. Lovely people there, salt of da earf. Lookin to make a home or just passin threw?”

“Just passing through. I was hoping to get to Texas by the end of the week.”

“Golly dats a long way. Family in them parts?”

“Something like that.”

“It always good to see family ma son is down in New Mexico now lookin at tryin his hand at the science. Darn kid, ranchin is the only profession for him. You got kids?”

“Yes.”

“Then ya know what I’m talkin about.”

Theodore nodded, not sure how to remove himself from the conversation and remembering he was nearly out of fuel.

“Well, pleasure to meet you Walt but I need to make it to Wheatland before my car runs dry.”

“Course I understand, if ever ya need some fuel or a hot meal, I gotta place in Chugwater. May God bless you and yours. Not yours like blacks but yours like family and such,” Walt said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Theodore said shaking Walt’s harry hand once again.

Walt bolted back to his truck. Slamming the door and waving to Theodore as he drove away. Theodore rolled his eyes.

“Overly friendly people, good lord,” he mumbled to himself.

Opening the door, he stepped back into the car and continued down the highway. She lifted her head and stared at him.

“Who was that?” She whispered.

“Just some rancher trying to be friendly.”

“Is that a common occurrence?”

“Depends who you are.”

He continued over the sloping hills of the wasteland, keeping a close eye on his gas gauge as the needle wiggled nearer to the “E.” Climbing over the last hill he spotted a small motel sitting alone in the night, like a lighthouse at the foot of the shore. He sped up slightly, hoping to get there before the car completely went out. He wished he had filled up before he had gotten to the diner. He knew if he was late Chester would have made his life worse. Slowly coasting off the highway, he rolled the Plymouth into one of the spots near the office.

It was a plain motel. The walls were a putrid green and the steps were painted off white to match the sand. Each door was painted light brown with faded golden door handles and the road was cracked in nearly every parking spot. Only one other car sat in the lot, a black sedan on the farthest corner from the office. The large “Motel” sign was missing the lights from the “T” spelling a misshapen “Moel.” The office doors were glass with a weak, faded tint that allowed anyone from the street to see in. He pulled the car in park and turned off the engine. As the engine died down the slow puttering of it seemed to use its last breath of fuel. He looked back at her and nodded. Without a word she covered her head with the blanket and disappeared into the floor boards. He stepped out again. The wind seemed to have died down, leaving an empty eerie silence stretching across the open lands. He turned up his coat and made his way to the office. He did his best to straighten his tie and brush most of the dust off his coat. He was uncertain how he would be received, but a good impression was always the best. He approached the glass door and pushed it open.

The office was lit worse than the diner. There was one desk lamp attached to a table on the left as you entered the office and a dim overhead light overlooked the counter. The tile was covered in dirt and several off colored pink rugs, strewn carelessly around the floor. He removed his hat and approached the counter. Peering over it to see if anyone was just sitting behind the desk. He struck the bell, sending a pleasant “ding” throughout the walls. The muttering of someone who sounded like they were just woken responded. Theodore stood up straight, gripping his arms in a less threating manner. From the back waddled out an old woman, mid-sixties, wearing a brown dress with a white collar. She lifted her glasses that hung off her chest by a thin chain and placed them on her face. She wandered up to the front, placing both hands on the counter.

“Too late to be sellin anything. I am not interested.”

“I am not selling anything ma’am. I was hoping to get a room for the night.”

She lit a cigarette and coughed several puffs.

“Let me see what I got,” she groaned.

She opened up the ledger in front of her and began paging through each section, slowly looking up at him with every turn.

“Sorry sonny looks like were all full up,” she said quickly, closing the ledger.

Theodore sighed.

“I don’t mean to be difficult ma’am, but you only have one car outside and I am nearly out of fuel. Please, I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

She finished her cigarette and flicked it into the corner.

“That’s what the last negro I let stay said. Had to redo the whole damn room. Take your business somewhere else.”

She turned to leave. Theodore reached into his pocket and produced his government ID and a ten-dollar bill.

“I am not a drifter. I am scientist with the US government. I just need it for one night and I will be out of your hair. Please.”

She took his ID and looked it over, mumbled under her breath and handed back to him.

“Fine. One wrong move though and I will bounce you out of here. Government or no. You hear me sonny?”

Theodore nodded. She grabbed a key off the back and handed the ledger to him.

“Sign,” she said without looking at him.

He quickly wrote his name down on the paper and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table. She walked back and handed him the key.

“Room 15, have a good night,” she said insincerely.

He knew he was unwelcome and quickly took the key, smiling as he did, and walked out of the office. He quickly made his way back to the car. Looking up at the horizon, he thought he spotted another black sedan. He started to sweat again and quickly looked away hoping he was tired, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. He sat back in the car and quickly turned the key, pulling out of the spot, he drove the short distance to room 15, trying his best to move quickly, yet not recklessly, given the hotel manager’s demeanor. He pulled into the spot across from the room and shut the car off. He tried to calm his breathing as he felt his heart was racing out of his chest. He looked back at her, she still had the blanket on over her head, perfectly still.

“Give me a second to check the room out then I will come get you,” he said, trying to sound calm.

She nodded under the blankets. He stepped out again, shutting the door quickly. He briskly made his way to the door. He looked back over the horizon. Certain now he had seen the sedan, but now it was gone. He turned the key and stepped into the room. Just as he walked in the room the main light flicked on and his heart stopped, nearly making him scream in terror. On the other side of the room across from the bed, sitting in chair was a man. He was dressed almost identically to Chester, From his shoes to his belt and cufflinks, even his silver tie clip. There were several notable differences. He was old. His skin was cracked in the dry air but was not tan, leaving it almost a pale white. He was clean shaven, save for a short thick mustache that rested perfectly even on his upper lip. He wore silver glasses with half-moon shaped lenses that rested on the tip of his nose. In his right hand he had a cane, black, with an ivory top that was deeply curved. He stared blankly at Theodore.

“You are off course Dr. Pillar,” he said, barely opening his lips.

“I…was unaware…this area can get quite confusing.”

“Yes, confusing. Casper is in the other direction.”

“I am sorry sir I will-”

“There is no need to rush out tonight, it is late, and you are tired. Sleep tonight, but change your course tomorrow.”

Theodore nodded trying not to look back at his car.

“Something on your mind doctor?” The man asked sternly.

“No sir. Just lost is all.”

“It does not give me hope to hear that our surveyor is lost. Perhaps I should put in for another.”

“No! ...No sir, that won’t be necessary I will make sure I study the map thoroughly tomorrow.

The man pulled out a silver pocket watch and looked it over, clicking it shut, he stood up out of the chair and turned out the light. He slowly limped towards Theodore, putting all his weight on the cane.

“See that you do. I do not like to move very much. If you get off course again, I might have to send someone else and it won’t be Chester.”

“Yes sir.”

He walked out the front door, taking careful glance at the Plymouth. He looked back at Theodore.

“Beautiful piece of American engineering. Survived both wars,” he said, admiring the hood.

He walked slowly to the side of it running his pale hand against the hood to the side mirror. He stopped and gripped the mirror in his hand. He stared in the car for a brief moment. Theodore could barely contain his fear. The old man turned and slowly walked back to him.

“I am going to reiterate to you what I said to you when we brought you on. We are always watching. Remember that, in case you get lost again.”

“Yes sir.”

The old man hooked his cane on the door handle and shut the door, leaving Theodore alone in the darkness.