Cloud Nine

Cloud Nine

Forest is glad to have his phone back, but the pic is not cool. It causes him to drop the phone. He immediately scoops it off the floor, and exits the bathroom, fast as hell.

How long, he wonders, as he hastily puts his shoes back on. They are in the lobby, how long until they knock on the door?

His room was on the ground floor, he is grateful for this, as he opens the window and climbs out. He doesn’t care that he looks strange, in fact, he isn’t thinking about anything except escape.

Night has fallen and the winds have picked up, as he reaches his car. Another text comes to his phone, and this one is a pic of the hotel room door, with a message:

We are knocking, where are you?

He is in his car and barreling down the road, he doesn’t care where he’s going, as long as it’s away. One minute later, he’s on the interstate, moving fast.

He is shaking, and feeling incredulous, and turns on the radio to get his mind somewhere else. The music from the speakers is soft and melodic, and he feels the tension ease, ever so slightly.

The interstate is mostly deserted at this time of night, and he is moving faster than the recommended speed. He pushes his car even faster trying to get his head around the facts, of his insanity.

Cloudy Nine

He is on a highway going nowhere, fastand is fleeing his houseplant. His houseplant is now texting him, while hanging out with a new friend. An involuntary giggle escapes him. These are the facts.

The night sky flickers with bursts of lightning in the distance, and the first droplets of rain dot the windshield. He checks his speed and discovers he is well over a hundred, and eases off the acceleration.

He takes a deep breath, and then another, trying to steady his nerves. It isn’t helping, so he decides to try reasoning it out. Firstly, he turns off the phone, and then the radio, now it’s just the sound of the rain striking the windshield.

The rain is falling heavier now, and he reasons that rain is actually real. He turns on the windshield wipers and they are also real. They whoosh across the glass with a soothing squeegee effect.

The windshield is clear and more rain falls and the wipers squeegee, it’s relaxing and normal. He is so soothed by the normalcy, he doesn’t see them at first.

They line the highway ahead, things from the clouds, many of them. As he slams on the brakes and begins hydroplaning, the radio blasts out a message:

“Howdy partner, welcome to the rodeo.”