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The Lonely Road, by Nicholas "Aelius" Hardin

Five hours on a boring stretch of featureless highway at three in the morning was not how Clayton wanted to spend his Saturday. The orange-striped tabby had no problem staying awake, letting his frustration fume as he muttered his discomfort over the situation. The car's new radio had not yet been installed, forcing him to listen only to the wind and engine noise, which annoyed him even more. If his son had still been around to help with the car's restoration this would not have been a problem. Such inconveniences paled in comparison to the fact that he did not want to be out here in the first place. Why did his son have to announce his engagement to that spoiled rich girl and force him to drive halfway across the state just to meet her? Just what did he see in her?

Clayton let out a sigh through grit teeth, wishing Jacob had never met her. Before then, he and his son would spend hours in the garage rebuilding and restoring an old '68 Chevelle, one of the few things Clayton could look forward to after the death of his wife and Jacob's mother. Now, however, the car was only mostly restored and Clayton would hardly see his son, especially since he decided to move in with her two months ago. They had been going out for nearly two years, and the more time he spent with her, the more Clayton resented her.

He sighed and tried to take his mind off the situation, but there was not much to occupy his attention. It was pitch black out and the road seemed to go on forever. These country roads always went through the middle of nowhere to connect the small towns around here. There wasn't much to see other than an occasional guardrail or a few trees that managed to get caught in the car's headlight beams.

Clayton pulled out his cell phone and paused. He thought about sending Jacob a call, but what would they talk about? Jacob would likely just give him another plea to accept his fiancé and to stop talking so much about the car. It would be pointless. As Clayton gripped the steering wheel tighter, he mused that the car was the only thing he had left now. The interior still needed some work and the body required another coat of paint or two, but it had been coming along nicely, albeit slowly thanks to Jacob no longer helping. Clayton grumbled and tossed the cell phone onto the empty passenger seat.

As the monotony of the view ahead offered little in the way of stimulation, Clayton allowed himself a bored yawn. As soon as he came out of it he saw distant headlights. Finally, some sign of life out here.

As they came closer Clayton noticed them trailing to the side, and then right into his lane.

He jerked the steering wheel and swerved off the road, missing the other car by inches. His Chevelle skidded on dry dirt, sliding past trees as Clayton furiously tried to maintain control. He finally saw asphalt and managed to climb back onto the road, tires screeching before he got the car aligned.

Clayton panted in relief, wide awake again. He looked into his rearview mirror, but saw no taillights. Just more pitch black darkness. The cat let out a frustrated growl, "Drunken hicks..." He ran a hand through his short hair and then grabbed the cell phone to check the time. Only three o' two. Still another hour to go, probably more. He then noticed there was no signal. All five bars completely gone.

He tilted his head, certain he had seen at least three bars mere moments ago. Clayton shrugged and let it fall back onto the seat. With his eyes back on the road, he couldn't help but notice the trees becoming denser beyond the road. Gnarled branches swept past in the beams of the car's headlights and the road itself seemed more narrow and unkempt. Clayton assumed it was a result of the area's isolation, but it did not make him any more comfortable. If anything, it increased his desire to get to his destination and get this wasted trip over with.

He gradually pressed down on the gas pedal, taking an occasional glance to his cell phone to check the signal. Still no bars, and the woodland continually became ever thicker.

Something darted onto the road ahead and the headlights went out. Clayton flung the steering wheel to swerve and a loud noise blasted out from under the car. The headlights came back on right as the cat regained control, but he could easily feel the now-shredded left front tire as the car rumbled along at a slower pace. He let out a garbled swear and pulled to the side, trying to steady his own pulse. What was with his luck lately??

He stepped out with a flashlight, tail twitching in frustration. Taking a look further back on the road, he saw nothing but the skid marks his tires had made. No sign of whatever it was that darted onto the road. Clayton made a mental note to check the connections to his headlights and went to work changing the flat tire with a spare, having kept the Chevelle's lights on to help him see. It was somewhat comforting, given how unnerving these woods were. After setting the old tire on the asphalt and beginning to set the spare, he noticed how eerily silent the area was. No buzzing of insects or chirping of crickets, not even the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. In fact, from what he could see of the crooked tree branches all around the area, there were no leaves at all despite this only being a late summer night. All he could see were empty limbs and trunks, and all he could hear were the squeaks of fastening lug nuts and his own breathing.

Finished, he disconnected the jack and turned to pick up the old tire only to discover it missing. Clayton stood up, panning his flashlight around and blinking in confusion. He knew he set it down right next to him on the asphalt, so how could it just disappear? No amount of searching around the car revealed it, and Clayton did not want to spend any more time out here in the middle of nowhere than he had to. He threw the flashlight back into the car and began to get in, but something caught his eye on the other side.

The trees had thinned out, something he had not noticed earlier, and further on beyond a small field glowed the flames of a fire as it consumed a lone barn.

Clayton paused, bewildered at how in his anger he had not noticed it before. He moved to sit down but wondered if he should alert someone. The phone would be of no help, given the lack of a signal, but what if someone was in there?

Right... out in the middle of a field with no other structures in sight, in the dark hours of morning...

However, as his eyes focused back on the fire he only wondered, what if?

The cat grumbled, removed the car keys, and stepped out. He jogged through the field's rows and as he came closer to the burning structure, panned his ears about to listen to any voices.

He heard only the roaring flames as they immolated the wooden barn. Clayton shook his head and turned back but something called out, "Where are you?"

The cat froze, glancing back to the barn. Did he truly hear that?

He cautiously stepped closer, trying to avoid the heat.

"Where did you go??" came the voice again.

Clayton's eyes widened. Who in their right mind would be out here? He stepped back and took a reluctant look back at his car, then groaned and took a running leap through an enflamed window.

He hit the dirt floor inside and rolled to a stop in the sweltering heat of the barn fire. He staggered to his feet and called out, "Hello? Is anybody here?"

The voice, somewhat ragged, called back from the second level, "Don't leave me!"

As the heat rose, Clayton frantically looked about and found a wooden ladder in the dirt that had not yet caught the flames. He climbed to a nearby loft only to find it empty.

Fire continually flared up the walls and thick, choking black smoke obscured much of the ceiling.

"Where are you?"

Clayton coughed and crawled around, feeling hotter. His hands brushed against hard plastic and the voice called back, "Don't leave!"

The cat paused, realizing the voice was coming from an old radio. What kind of sick joke was this?

Clayton flung the radio against the burning wall, breaking the device into pieces. All the while, the fire intensified and the smoke thickened. Clayton moved for the ladder but found it had caught fire with the rest of the building. It would only be a matter of seconds before the entire loft would catch the flames as well. The structure jolted, threatening to collapse.

Clayton then noticed a crack in the wall from where the radio hit. He ran up and kicked hard, tearing through the weakened wood. He shook the embers from his leg and kicked again, widening a hole he could fit through. With no other option, he backed away to jump through.

"Don't leave me!!"

The broken radio, missing its batteries and one of its speakers, continued to plead, but Clayton angrily ignored it and leaped through the opening.

He tumbled through the air and hit the muddy ground hard, rolling to a halt covered in wet grime and soot. Clayton sat up to his knees, unable to even swear in his rage. What was that all about? He looked back at the barn as it continued to burn. He wasn't sure if he heard the voice again through the roaring flames, but now instead of enraging him, he felt somewhat regretful. What if there was someone there and he did not see them?

He shook his head and tried to get up, but the thick mud pulled him back down. He grunted, straining himself to get out and finally got free of the mire. He trudged across the field to his car, unwilling to go back and confirm his uncertainty. He recognized the barn's design--it was like one he had been to years ago with his son. If there was someone there, he was certain he would have seen them.

A loud crash came from behind and Clayton turned to witness the barn collapsing in on itself, fire spewing out from its failed structure as it sank into the ground. The cat stood there tilting his head, watching the barn's remains disappear into the mud he had just came from. The flames were extinguished with hardly a trace of the barn's structure or foundation left, leaving the area shrouded in darkness and thick clouds of smoke hovering around where it once stood.

Clayton dreaded the fact he would have to get into his precious Chevelle with clothing covered in mud, but upon finally reaching the vehicle, all he found on his clothing was soot and pieces of gravel--nothing wet.

Perplexed, the cat got back into his car and sat there a moment, trying to figure out what he had just experienced. With no answer coming into his mind, he sighed and continued on down the road.

The area suddenly seemed more foreboding in light of the experience at the burning barn. Asphalt was much rougher and cracked here and there, the gnarled tree branches curved over the road as if to try and grab anything riding higher than his Chevelle, and the density of the woods made the drive seem like he was pressing through a shrinking tunnel.

Clayton hardly noticed he had sped up in attempt to make it to the next town. He swallowed and kept his eyes ahead, hoping that the condition of the road did not result in a dead end. The map said it would lead into a town, but how old was that map, anyway? Come to think of it, the road itself did not seem to match the curves he had read on the map before setting out hours ago. He pondered at whether he was even on the right path, and the lack of road signs did not help quell his uncertainty.

Clayton checked his cell phone again. Still no reception. He felt alone. A call to Jacob, even one where he would have to listen to Jacob's pleas to open up, would have been preferable to the uneasy mix of road noise and little else that Clayton was forced to listen to out here. The feeling of loneliness was familiar, but only now did he fully realize it. Being separated from everybody on an unfamiliar road was more unsettling than he wanted to admit. But why here and now, he wondered. Ever since his wife died and Jacob moved out, he had lived by himself with no problems up until now. Lately, the only company he had was the Chevelle as he spent so many nights working on it, but now the car's comfort was not as present as it had been mere days ago.

The cat shook the uncomfortable thoughts from his head, trying to focus. Whether or not this was the right road, it had to lead somewhere, and hopefully that somewhere would be a town where he could gain his bearings.

The trees gradually thinned out, though in the darkness of night Clayton could still only see more woodland in the beams of the headlights. Soon, something else appeared in the distance.

Clayton narrowed his eyes at a soft, blue glow far off on the side of the road. As he came closer, he realized it was a floodlight. Finally, a sign of civilization! He briefly checked his phone again but there still was no signal.

Still determined, he slowed down until reaching the light's source and pulled into a grassy lot next to a tiny, old church building that seemed completely deserted. However, he figured if the flood light was on then someone was paying for electricity, and at the very least he might find a phone in there.

The Chevelle pulled to a stop and Clayton got out to look around, aimlessly brushing more asphalt granules from his fur. The lot itself was surrounded by more trees and only the single floodlight revealed the front of the church and the path back to the road. The church itself was small, probably unable to accommodate more than a few dozen people. Its white paint was flaking due to neglect and there were no lights within, judging by the dark, stained glass windows.

Clayton walked up to the front door but found it was locked. With a huff, he made his way around the building but could find only one back entrance, which was also locked. He glanced at his phone again, then back at the church, noticing how tall it was. Perhaps...

There were no ladders around, but the design of the building's corners appeared to jut out at certain points--enough to climb from, thanks to his claws.

Clayton strained as he made his way up. He had not been very active in the past few months, having confined himself to his home and garage more than anywhere else.

Finally he reached the roof and held out his phone, but it still gained no reception even at this height. The cat's ears flattened in disappointment. He wondered just how far he would have to go to find any sign of life out here. He shook more gravel from his clothing, thinking back to the barn fire and wondering how that mud had dried so quickly, and why there was gravel mixed in. This time, he wondered how the barn itself could be so similar to one he had visited so many years ago in a completely different region. From what he remembered, the similarities were spot on with those of the burning building.

He turned to climb down but something at ground level caught his eye. Did something just move? Clayton paused and kneeled down, trying to adjust his eyes away from the floodlight's beam below. In the darkness surrounding the rear half of the building, he could almost see movement here and there, but it was barely noticeable. Thankfully, nothing was moving toward his Chevelle, but even with his naturally-attuned night vision he had a difficult time trying to figure out what exactly was down there.

After a few brief moments of stillness, Clayton sighed wearily, wondering if his own frustration and loneliness was causing him to hallucinate. He had to get going.

He stashed the phone in his pocket, then stood and immediately slipped on loose gravel, swearing as he slid down to the edge of the roof. He reached out and grabbed a rain gutter before falling, but the gutter came loose from the roof and swung down.

Clayton braced himself and hit one of the stained glass windows, smashing through before losing his grip and falling into one of the old pews. He shrieked in pain with bloody slits going down one side of his body. The cat tumbled to the floor and staggered back up, glass shards falling from his wounds. He grit his teeth and picked the larger pieces out of his fur, noticing an excruciating gash in his back where blood soaked his shirt. He took a few moments to pull more glass from his cuts and then made his way down the empty aisle, hoping the building had a first aid kit somewhere. And perhaps a phone, now that he was inside.

He only went halfway down the aisle before stopping to notice the building wasn't as empty as he expected. In front of him at the foot of the church's podium, a line of arranged flowers flanked a closed casket.

"You can't be serious..."

It was as if a eulogy had been abandoned and deserted, leaving the arrangements as they were. Now, in the dim light coming in from the stained glass windows, he saw details that were frighteningly familiar. The same flowers, the same casket design, the very same arrangement mirrored those of his own wife's funeral so long ago.

Clayton tilted his head in bewilderment. This was too eerie.

At a slight tink of broken glass nearby he whipped around, but saw only the hole he made falling in. He glanced about, but saw nothing in the stillness of the dim chapel. He let out a long sigh in attempt to calm himself, then took another cautious glance at the funeral arrangements. He knew he would have to walk past them to see if the building had a back room with medical supplies or a phone, but he couldn't bear to approach them. Facing her funeral years ago was hard enough. He did not want to relive that again.

"Wake up, Clayton," he muttered to himself. "That was five years ago." He stepped forward but as he neared the arrangements of flowers beside the casket, his pace inadvertently slowed. It was too familiar.

He remembered that day when the preacher gave the eulogy for Clayton's deceased wife. Clayton could not even listen, furiously coming to grips with the fact she was gone. Fighting tears, he had left the service, the entire building, trying to escape his own sorrow. He did not even attend the burial. Other friends of the family tried to reach out to him and his son, but he gave them no response, wanting no more reminders she was dead. The only respite came at the discovery of that old rusted Chevelle chassis in the barn, giving him the distraction he needed to move on. It wasn't long before his own son decided to join in, initially intrigued by the barn find. That was all Clayton needed. Spending so much time with Jacob restoring the car, finding parts, putting everything together... until Jessica came along and stole him away.

Clayton realized he had halted mere feet away from the flowers, trembling. He turned and paced in front of the arrangements, running a bloodied hand through his short hair. He could hardly believe that a bunch of decorations would have such an effect on him. More than that, nothing here made any sense, it was all too coincidental.

Refusing to glance at the casket, he spun to try and walk past the flowers again when he saw movement at the other end of the chapel.

Clayton froze in his tracks, looking wildly back at what he thought he saw. Picking out details was difficult in the dim light coming in from the stained glass windows. He knew he saw something move within the darkness.

Like shadows moving against shadows, Clayton saw odd forms shifting about nearby. He could not make out their forms, but the way they slowly lumbered toward him did not look natural. The cat felt a tiny gust behind him and spun to see what appeared to be another shape reaching at him from behind the decorations.

Clayton jolted backward, banging against one of the pews before brushing against the wall. The figures steadily approached, in no hurry despite the cat's distress. Clayton shuffled back to the broken window and realized there was no way he could get out through it--the hole he made was too high, and he was not going to risk shredding himself making another one.

The barely-visible figures crept closer.

Clayton clambered over more pews toward the chapel's main door at the other end.

The same mysterious whisper echoed in his ears, "Don't leave me!"

Clayton clenched his teeth, trying to ignore it. He kicked the door open.

The voice called back, "Don't leave me, dad!"

The cat burst from the church, "Shut up!" He scrambled back to his waiting Chevelle but when his feet hit the asphalt path in front of the building he began sinking as if in mud. Clayton grit his teeth and strained, trudging his way to his car.

Behind him, more movement shifted in the darkness within the church, approaching and then exiting the door toward the desperate cat.

Clayton finally reached his car to find its tires already sinking as well. He flung the door open and struggled to pull himself free, taking a quick glance back to see more shadowy figures crowding around the floodlight's beam.

With an angry bellow, Clayton pulled his legs free and cranked up the car. The floodlight darkened and the unseen figures came closer. Clayton set the car in gear and mashed the accelerator. Though sluggish at first, the tires came free then screeched and the car skidded back onto the road, taking off at high speed.

Clayton didn't care how fast he was going as long as he was as far from that church as possible. He actually hoped a cop might find him out here, if only to prove this place wasn't as lonely as it felt. He took a nervous glance in the rearview mirror, seeing darkness beyond the tail lamps and still smelling burnt rubber from his tires.

Wait a minute... the path leading to the church wasn't paved when he arrived there... and since when did cold asphalt act like quicksand?

Clayton shook the thought from his mind, trying not to lose focus on the road ahead. Everything he had observed thus far did not make any sense, though. It was real enough, he was sure of that. The bloody gash from the broken window was still there, and hurt immensely. Not only that but he was certain his blood was ruining the seats he had paid a small fortune for last week.

The cat narrowed his eyes. As much as he wanted to get away from this place, he also desired an answer to explain what it was doing to him. The voice in the burning barn's radio, the disembodied whispers in the church... he knew them, somehow. The familiarity of the barn and church also disturbed him. They could not have been real, but then why did his clothing smell of smoke and where did the slashes come from?

His tail twitched, thumping the seat as he tried to piece together what was going on. The barn... In a similarly-designed barn hundreds of miles away, years ago, he and his son first discovered the Chevelle. And the radio... The voice from the radio in the burning barn was young, perhaps late teens or early twenties. It was Jacob! Clayton blinked, wondering how he could have forgotten his own son's voice already. It was the same voice he had heard in the church, pleading for his dad not to leave him.

The cat let out a gruff sigh. "I-I'm not leaving you," he said in the emptiness of his car. "I'm coming to visit you right now!" Clayton's ears fell at hearing himself say that, the frustration in his own voice. It had taken Jacob weeks to finally convince Clayton to come visit, mainly for the purpose of getting to know Jessica better after the father's less-than-friendly reaction to their engagement.

Up ahead, headlights shined.

Clayton blinked, snapped out of his thoughts at the hint of someone else out here. He let off on the gas as they approached, and the closer they came they, too, looked familiar. The same twin pairs of headlamps belonging to a '68 Chevelle.

The opposite car roared past. Clayton checked the rearview mirror to see red rear lights, but they weren't disappearing on the dark horizon. They seemed to freeze in place behind his own car.

Clayton sped back up, but the red lights became larger, approaching from behind. The cat watched in disbelief as the other car pulled up alongside him, matching his speed in reverse. He saw no one inside. The car, looking exactly like his own, was empty.

It swerved and slammed Clayton's car.

Clayton fought against the skid but the other car kept up the onslaught, nailing his own repeatedly as the cat furiously tried to stay on the road.

The empty car hit his own quarter panel and sent Clayton careening sideways down the road. The asphalt bogged down once again and caught the tires, forcing the Chevelle into a violent roll.

Clayton gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could while his car threw him against the door and roof. Finally it came to a halt on its wheels.

The driver panted for breath, reeling. He felt the car shift sideways, beginning to sink into the road. As clarity returned to him, he realized the road was pulling him down with his car. He glanced back to see what appeared to be viscous asphalt already filling into the rear floorboards. Clayton unbuckled his seat belt and rolled down his window.

Beside him, the radio blared static followed by a voice, "Don't leave!"

Clayton quickly spun the volume knob to off, but the voice persisted, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

The cat froze, staring at the radio. He asked, "Who are you?"

It gave no response, but Clayton suddenly realized this voice was different. It wasn't his son. This time it was himself.

The car tilted further and more liquid asphalt seeped in on the passenger side.

Clayton climbed out through the driver's side window and saw he would have to jump to reach solid ground. Behind him, the radio repeated in his voice, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

The cat ignored it and leaped.

The road splashed up and grabbed his feet, then pulled him down into it. Clayton yelped in shock, trying to pull his legs free. Behind him, his car continued to sink, shining its headlights directly on him. He reached out and grabbed a tree trunk close to the road, digging his claws in. He took a glance back and grabbed the Chevelle's bumper with his other hand, "You are not taking my car!"

The road did not let up. Clayton's claws scored the tree as he desperately tried to hang on, but it was sucking him in further.

He could not understand why it was his own voice this time. In the midst of his struggle, he could only listen when the radio reverberated through the car's frame, "Didn't you want to be left alone? Is that why you sequestered yourself?"

Clayton groaned, losing grip on the tree, the only thing not touching the road itself. "I didn't ask for Jacob to leave me!" His eyes shot wide in realization. Jacob did not leave him, nor did Jessica steal him away. He, himself, abandoned his own son and everyone around him. He left them, and while they continued to live their lives, moving on from the tragedy of his wife's death, he escaped the world by occupying himself with a single project he never wanted to finish, lest he end up with no other option but to accept her absence. "I... I didn't..."

"You wanted this..." said the radio, his subconscious.

He had sunk to his waist by now, and the car's own windshield had now disappeared beneath the road, still sinking further and threatening to pull Clayton in as well.

"No... no!" Clayton let go of the bumper and twisted, grabbing the tree with both hands and clawing his way back out. "I'm not gonna be some ghost on a haunted highway. I'm not leaving my son!"

The car's headlights suddenly went out and the road pulled him harder.

Tree bark broke off and chipped away beneath the cat's claws, but Clayton only strained more, determined to see Jacob again. His muscles and wounds felt like they were on fire. The image of his abandoned son, however, remained firmly in his mind's eye, fueling his determination. He let out a pained yell, pulling himself out and giving one final shove to roll onto the dry dirt next to the road.

He lay there panting in the night air. Beside him, the road was as still as ever and his car was gone. Clayton staggered to his feet, bruised, bleeding, and battered from the night's ordeal. He leaned against the tree and noticed his cell phone still buried in his pocket. He pulled it out to find there was still no reception. He would have to walk the rest of the way to the next town.

In the still quiet night, the cat trudged off through the woods. He refused to step onto the road, though oddly it did not seem as threatening as before. He encountered no moving shadows, no eerie phenomena, not even the driverless car. Only silence and darkness. Clayton felt more alone now than ever before. The cat lost track of time as he walked, lumbering along the side of the road in a daze with the hope of finding some sign of people.

Something solid beneath his feet interrupted his stupor. He glanced down and realized he had reached a concrete sidewalk. He looked back up and noticed the soft glow of sunlight through the thick fog surrounding him.

Clayton took a few cautious steps forward and reached a curb where another road crossed his path. He had made it.

He looked back in the direction he came in from only to find blocking pylons and a huge sign reading "ROAD CLOSED". He tilted his head, wondering how he could have passed all that without walking right into them.

A jewelry shop's door creaked open and Clayton staggered in, clothing shredded and bloody from his injuries. "Hello?"

A young rabbit walked out from a back room, "Hi, how can I help--whoa, stay right there, I'll call an ambulance."

Clayton grabbed the rabbit's arm, "Wait! Please, I need to know something." He pointed back at the roadblock, "How long has that road been closed?"

"Uh, I don't really know, sir. I've lived here for ten years and it was closed even before I moved in."

Clayton rubbed his aching head, "That doesn't make sense..."

"Just wait right here, I can get an ambulance here quick. It's a small town."

Clayton headed back outside, "I'll find my way, thanks."

The rabbit watched him leave, ears folded in confusion. "Uh, okay then. The hospital is down the road and left from the second stoplight." He then noticed a trail of what appeared to be asphalt granules falling from Clayton's fur.

The cat stood at the curb, wondering how he could have possibly come through from there. His tail suddenly twitched in realization. He pulled out his phone and smiled at seeing all five bars lit up. Finally!

He dialed Jacob's number and waited.

A tired voice came through, "Hello?"

"Jacob! I'm so glad to hear your voice..."

"Dad? Are you okay? We tried to call you last night when you didn't show up."

"I'm... I'm fine. Yeah. More than you can imagine."

An approaching diesel truck caught his attention and as it passed, he saw a battered 1968 Chevelle being towed behind it. It was the exact same appearance as his own car, complete with the damage incurred the night before. The license plate matched up perfectly.

Clayton read the address on the truck and continued, "Listen, I had some... trouble last night. I need a ride. There's an autoshop down here I'll meet you at..." He trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty.

Jacob's voice responded, "Still there?"

Clayton blinked back into the present. "Yeah. I meant to say... hospital. I'll be at the hospital. And uh... I owe you an apology. You and your fiancé."

"Dad what's going on? Are you hurt?"

"It's a long story. Just please... hear me out. I want to apologize for being so distant. Y'know, for spending more time with the car than you."

Jacob was silent for a moment on the other line, then, "Are... you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I am. For the first time in way too long. I just want to see you in person again, to tell you this up close. I'm... I'm sorry."

"Hey, you don't have to do that. You know I still love you."

"But I wasn't reciprocating that."

"You were taking mom's death pretty hard. We understood and wanted to help."

"Yes, and I pushed you all away. That, and... I wasn't treating Jessica like she deserved. I guess I was angry at her for assuming she took you away."

"Because I moved in with her and couldn't spend time with you fixing up the car?"

"Exactly. That was wrong of me."

"Don't worry about it, really. We're glad you're coming to visit. Um... but what happened to land you in a hospital?"

Clayton took one more glance at the distant road, still blocked by signs and pylons. "I guess I got tired and wasn't paying attention."