"...Listening to the The Hutch and we've got Bill on the line." the voice on the radio faded in from static. "Go ahead Bill, where you calling from?" Geneve picked up the paper from the seat next to her and held it against the steering wheel. Let's see… take I-70 across Colorado and through Utah, change to I-15 in Utah, I-15 goes straight to Las Vegas and LA.
"Yeah, Hi Dan. My name's Bill, from Eagle." a line of red lights lit up ahead of her, Geneve put down her directions and slowed.
"Hey Bill, how are you? I understand you have an opinion on this issue?"
"Yeah, Dan! I don't think it's good for America."
"How so, Bill?" Dan asked.
"Well just look at this latest bill..." Orange traffic cones lined up diagonally across the road, narrowing the Interstate to barely two lanes. A semi squeezed in front of her car, limiting her view to a bumper sticker that read "How's my driving? Call 1-800-Fuck-You." She resisted the urge to check her dashboard clock.
"...and the President ain't doin' anything about it. I mean there should be a law or something to keep people from doin' that kind of thing." Red lights lit up again. Geneve blinked and braked in turn. Her car inched forward, jackhammers throbbed in the distance.
The semi turned left, slowly revealing large signs: Road Closed Ahead. Detour. "Shit." she said.
"...And what about Congress? Huh? What are they doin' about this thing? I mean I was at a council meeting a while ago and they didn't say nothin' about what they're doin' to keep people from doin' that thing!"
"I agree, Bill. Thanks for calling. But now a word from Perl Hotels..."
Geneve turned down the side road where the arrow pointed and the signal was lost in static again. She reached down and turned the radio off.
Where am I? She slowed down, searching for a sign. Headlights, reflected in the mirror, suddenly blinded her and a car honked it's horn loud and long passing her. Should have stopped in Vail. She told herself. There are tourists there. Tonight in Vail, tomorrow in Grand Junction, then push through Utah. By the time you got to Nevada, you could decide if you wanted to stay or keep moving to California. But nooo, you decided Vail was too expensive. You wanted to stay in somewhere else where it's cheaper. Pfft. They are going to find your bleached bones out in the middle of the damn desert. Years from now. Would I leave any bones? Maybe they'll just find the car and stuff. Car full of crap found in the desert. No one with it, who does it belong to? No one knows. It's a mystery for the ages. Nah. They'd locate Mercy eventually and send it all to her. Doubt my clothes would fit, but maybe her kids could get some use out of them. Heh, the baby could have my IDs. I should write. It's been a while. I'll pick up some-