Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

After driving away from Cujo, I’ve gotten a little side-tracked from where the highway is. My map doesn’t have a close up of the city, but I know if I stay in one general direction I’ll hit the outer belt eventually. As luck would have it, I see a sign for I-65. I have to re-check the map because I thought I would have to get on another highway before merging onto I-65, but sure enough it runs straight down the middle of Louisville.

After following the signs, I make it onto the highway. I never plan on going to Louisville again. Now that I know where I’m going, it’s as good a time as any to pull out my new CD collection.

I have to start with the Beatles – the sticker price was $130, after all. I got it for an absolute steal.

I’m not a die-hard Beatles fan by any means but, like most people, I’ve heard their music on the radio and know they had a million good songs. I grab the first CD and put it in. I wasn’t expecting it, but hearing sound of any kind is really quite soothing. Over the last three days, the only things I’ve heard are myself muttering curse words and Cujos #1 and #2 telling me how much they want to eat me. Hearing human voices singing makes me remember people again – real-life human beings who talk and laugh and sing.

A few days ago I never would have believed how depressing it is to be alone. I thought I might actually enjoy it to some degree; how wrong I was.

Listening to the Beatles makes me think most of all about Abby. I know it sounds sappy like the music she listens to, but I love her dearly and miss her like crazy. I wonder how different these past few days would have been if it were me and her together, instead of just me.

Where would we be now, and what would we be doing? Would I have convinced her to head south instead of staying home? I think it would have been a tough sell to go to Mobile. That option probably wouldn’t even have come up. My guess is she would have wanted to go to California, which I would have been more than happy to do. It’s so beautiful there.

Now that I think about it, Abby brings up LA a lot. She doesn’t directly say she wants to move there or anything, but she makes comments about what’s going on there and how amazing it would be to live there. Abby is a very passive person who would never come out and say she wants to move, but I think she does.

Three days ago I never would have considered moving because we both have safe, secure jobs and our cost of living is quite low. It’s so easy to maintain the status quo, but the winters are awful in Ohio and there isn’t much excitement around here.

Breaking into homes and buildings changes a person though, and I feel I’m already more adventurous and daring. Packing up everything and moving to California seems like such a small risk now. Yeah, it might be tough for a few weeks or months. In the short term, it won’t be as good as what we have now. But life is a marathon, not a sprint. If moving to California would bring more happiness in the long run, then that’s exactly what we should do.

I don’t know where Abby is now, but whenever I see her again, I’m going to ask her if she wants to move and if she says yes, do it. After all, the only reason we are in Ohio is because we grew up here, went to school here, and naturally found jobs here. The world is a gigantic place, and there’s no reason we should be limited to the one small area in which we grew up. It doesn’t have to be California; it could be anywhere. We could move out of the country if we wanted to. The worst that could happen is it not working out and we come home and beg our bosses to take us back. We both have family who would support us no matter what we do. As long as I’m with her, I know I’ll be happy.

Wow, listening to the Beatles is powerful stuff! It’s only been twenty minutes and I’m already making plans to change my entire future. No wonder all those hippies were so moved by them. The drugs might have had something to do with that too.

Driving through Kentucky isn’t as bad as driving through Ohio. It could be the music that’s entertaining me, or it could be that these unknown roads provide a sense of adventure. Either way, I’m much happier than I was earlier with all the outbursts. Even though I’m usually calm and collected, I have weak moments like anybody else.

It’s beginning to get dark out, so I look at my gas gauge and see it’s less than a quarter tank. I’m getting hungry too, so now seems like a good time to stop and refuel both the car and myself. I could also use a potty break. Up to this point, I’ve only moved my bowels in the bathroom. I could hold it another fifteen or twenty minutes until I come to a rest stop but what’s the fun in that?

I anticipated this problem ahead of time and brought toilet paper. I’ve heard too many stories about people going into the wilderness and accidentally using poison ivy to cleanse themselves. I’ve only had poison ivy once (on my hand) and can’t imagine how miserable it would be to have your downstairs area itch like that.

I pull the car over and grab a roll from the trunk. If I were proper, I would walk over in the grass and spread my fertilizer but that wouldn’t be fun. Instead, I take a squat right in the middle of the highway.

I wonder how many people in the history of the human race have done what I’m doing now. It probably isn’t the first time; I grew up as a teenage boy and know the kind of immature and gross things boys do. As busy as highways are, though, I can’t think this sort of thing happens too often.

When I look down, I see I came a little too close for comfort, so I take my pants completely off to avoid a real mess. Once I’m done, I use the toilet paper and throw it on the ground. Surprisingly, I feel guiltier about littering than I do taking a dump in the middle of the road. I despise littering and think it’s one of the laziest, most immature things a person can do. I don’t want to pick up my dirty toilet paper, though, so I get over my no littering policy just this once.

I put the remaining toilet paper back in the trunk and start filling up my tank. I get through one full jug and most of the way through the other before it spills over. Some of it gets on my hands and, although I love the smell of gas, this is the last thing I want to happen right before I’m about to eat.

I planned on making a sandwich, but I don’t feel like touching my food now. I grab a bottle of water and try to rinse my hands, but even soap and hot water isn’t enough to get rid of this smell.

With that, I get back in the car and grab a box of cereal. I’m not completely fed up with cereal yet, although I’m getting close. How I would love a nice grilled chicken sandwich and fries – or a big fat steak – right now. I turn the car back on and see the gas gauge points to full. I have more than enough gas to get to Nashville now.

In five miles I see a rest area I could have stopped at had I waited just a few more minutes. But then the next person driving on the highway wouldn’t have a nice surprise on their tires.

I have no reason to stop now, so I continue on and decide to take a break from the Beatles; I’ve had enough life-changing epiphanies for one day. I put in one of the Metallica CD’s, a band I loved listening to growing up. It’s a miracle I turned out normal with all the heavy death metal I used to listen to.

The darkness comes fast as I make my way toward Nashville. I didn’t think about it, but since I’m a little farther west I have a few more minutes of daylight than I would have if I were in Ohio.

I had wondered if the highway lights were all solar powered, and I learn that this is not the case. It’s really dark out, and I have to go below the speed limit to stay on the road. Driving at night makes me tired, and listening to Metallica only helps so much. I open up an energy drink, thankful I thought to grab them at the mini-mart earlier. The taste is awful — just as I remember them. I only get through about half of it before I can’t stand the warm taste anymore. I pull down the window and throw it out. I’ll have a littering day today; tomorrow I’ll get back to my morals.