“Don’t mention it,” he added as he pulled out of the parking spot, map in hand. “Thank me when we finally get there.”
They slowly drove out of the gas station and back onto the main roads. The autumn sun had completely set and the evening was in full swing. They were far enough from the Los Angeles metro area that light pollution was less of an issue. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a sky as full of stars as they danced against the pitch-black sky.
Parkowski cursed again at the arrhythmia that had prevented her from ever becoming an astronaut. Maybe, someday, she would get a chance to go up there.
As they left the city of Barstow, the houses became less and less frequent until there were almost none along the road. DePresti continued onto the Barstow-Bakersfield Highway and then made a right onto Antelope Road. The two began their journey through the desert towards what they hoped was Chang’s residence.
Parkowski popped a few of the ibuprofen and tried to wrap her shoulder with the gauze. She thought about taking off her top but decided to bandage over the t-shirt. “Sorry about your windbreaker,” she said to DePresti, who didn’t respond as Parkowski tossed the bloody jacket into the backseat.
After a few failed attempts, she managed to do it. A little blood seeped out, but it’d have to do until they arrived. Then, she used the wrap to hold the gauze in place. It hurt like hell and made her shoulder hard to use, but it worked.
“You didn’t get anything to clean it, did you?” she asked. DePresti shook his head to confirm her suspicion. That’d be something they’d have to do eventually.
The road wasn’t well marked, and the various driveways and unmarked paths were hard to see. They were no longer in a major metropolitan city, or even in a suburb. There were no streetlights to guide them, no road signs. It was truly the middle of nowhere.
Parkowski thought that they had gone too far and was about to tell DePresti to turn around and go back to Barstow. But, she finally saw the neon light of an old Sinclair sign that had to be almost a century old off in the distance.
“That’s the gas station,” she said.
“I know.” DePresti smiled. “I can read a map, dear.”
As they got closer she noticed that the gas station was completely empty of cars, save for an old Camaro parked in the back. DePresti pulled right up to the station and got out of the car with his map. “Be right back,” he said.
Parkowski waited for an eternity.
She drank one of the water bottles in the back and nibbled on an energy bar. Her boyfriend was taking forever.
Another five minutes passed. She thought about getting out of the shot-up Subaru and going in, but thought better of it. If DePresti was in any kind of trouble there in the gas station, she wouldn’t be much help in her current state. Better to just wait.
Finally DePresti left the tiny, ancient building with his map and a huge smile on his face. “Sorry, Grace, the guy in there was a talker,” he said. She smelled a hint of whiskey on his breath. “Gave me a shot and talked my ear off.”
“Are you ok to drive?”
He nodded. “I just had one. I’m fine. And I know exactly where to go. Three miles back, make a right, go down about half a mile. He knows Andrew pretty well.”
Parkowski tried to shrug but wasn’t able to with her wrapped shoulder. “Works for me.”
DePresti followed the directions, turning off of Antelope Drive onto an unmarked dirt road. “This must be his driveway. Just a little more and we’re there.”
Up ahead, Parkowski could barely see a small, one-story house with a carport next to it. None of its lights were on. It was as if no one was home. “That’s his house,” she said as she pointed at it. “Go there.”
He nodded and pulled up behind a large, dark-colored Ford pickup truck with a raised suspension, then stopped the car. “Ok, I’ll get out and walk around.”
“I don’t think you will,” a low, deep voice said from just outside the Subaru.
Parkowski whipped her head around — a painful gesture — to see the barrel of an ugly, pump-action shotgun pointed through the broken driver’s side window right at her and DePresti.
“You have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t blow both of your faces off.”
DePresti spoke first. “Andrew, it’s me, Mike, from work,” he said slowly. “We’ve known each other for four years.”
“Mike who? I worked with a lot of Mikes.”
“Mike DePresti, from Space Systems Command,” the Space Force captain added.
“Philly?” Chang asked as he stepped closer to the car.
“Yeah, it’s me,” DePresti said. Must be a nickname from work. "The other person is my girlfriend, Grace. You’ve never met her.”
The shotgun barrel didn’t move. Chang said nothing.
“We need help,” Parkowski said, trying to break the awkward, dangerous silence.
“How the fuck did you find me here?”
