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The Last Trip
by Jack Corbett
is the final chapter from Jack Corbett's novel,
"Death on the Wild Side" based on his
real life experiences with Saint Louis
Metro East strippers and topless dancers
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He drove one hundred miles and stopped at a service station. The car no longer could use regular for it had long ago been transformed into something far different from a stock MGB. He heard a click as the automatic shutoff turned the pump off as he was cleaning off the windshield. Then finished, he went in to pay for the gas. Walking slowly back to the car, Frank admired his creation sitting next to the pump low slung and perfect for its last ride. He didn't get in right away. Mentally he ticked off the improvements he had made to the machine. The suspension modifications were there underneath where no one could see them. Out of sight, beneath the hood was the small displacement V-6 engine and the supercharger, which Dave McGuire had installed to replace the 94 horsepower four cylinder engine that had come with the car. The car still weighed only 2200 pounds yet it generated 215 horsepower. The machine had been an expensive project, but he had viewed it as an extension of himself. Sensitive as a thoroughbred she responded like an angel to the slightest nudge of the wheel. Yet, she could overtake all but the swiftest cars on the straights. And nothing could stay with her in the corners. Too bad he would have to destroy her. He drove out onto the interstate and took the little sports car up to 90 and held her there until he saw the flashing lights of the patrol car in his rear view mirror. Without hesitation he downshifted into fourth and jabbed the accelerator into the floor. Even at 90 the car jumped forward. He started to hear the whine of the supercharger as the car approached its redline. Then he shifted into fifth. The car quickly reached its top speed of 145 mph as the patrol car lost ground. Frank took the first exit ramp at 90 mph and held the car there until he was within two hundred yards of the stop sign before he started to slow down. Running the stop sign he turned onto a two-lane country road as he dropped down to second. The car jumped forward at each shift as Frank left the patrol car a half mile behind. Ten minutes later he lost the patrol car's lights in a corner. Out of the corner he saw another two lane, turned into it, and accelerated to 110 miles per hour. Then he saw the old barn sitting by itself on a little side road. An old building, dilapidated, unpainted, and on its last legs, it sat by itself unaccompanied by human habitation. He pulled behind it and cut his lights. Ten minutes passed with no signs of the patrol car. Frank waited another thirty minutes before he pulled away. Fifteen minutes later he found the interstate, merged onto it, and held the car at seventy. Before, he didn't know where he was going and didn't care. Now he knew where he had been heading, instinctively, his subconscious leading him there. He was close to Lori's house. She had put him in jail--but she had done it when she was very drunk. Perhaps she didn't know what she was doing, thought Frank. She was the only girl he had ever met in any of the topless bars who didn't try to get him to spend a lot of money on her. At one time, before that night, she would often call him--when she was depressed or simply because she wanted to see him. The car hit a bump in the road. Frank felt the pain start again in his head, a gnawing, sickening pain that he knew would get worse and worse. The cancer was there, an insidious alien killer, that would first destroy his mind--then slowly kill him. Far better to do it this way, Frank thought, on his own terms. His thoughts returned to Lori. They had been fated to meet, and both of them had recognized that something had happened that had never happened before. Now he knew why he had pointed his car in her direction. He had come to say goodbye. She would, he hoped, be the last living creature he would see before he plunged into darkness. He pulled into her driveway and shut the ignition off. She came to the door and walked out onto the porch. She must have heard my engine, thought Frank. Thought I'd have to knock. Thought that she wouldn't be home. "Did you hear me pull up?" he asked. "I thought I did. Got a funny feeling that you were out here," she replied. "I came to say goodbye." "Why's that?" "Because I'm going on a one-way trip." "What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm leaving for good. I'm not returning. To you or to anyone." "I don't understand." "I just killed two men." "The judge?" "And the lawyer. Her lawyer." Lori started to walk toward his car. Half way there she stopped, riveted in place, as she realized that he had done exactly as he said he had done. She had never seen him like this before. She looked down at her feet, not looking up at him as she took in what he had said. Suddenly she looked up at him and grinned. "Take me with you Frank." "No Lori. I came to say goodbye--not take you with me." "Take me with you Frank," she ordered. "I want to go with you." Suddenly she was standing next to the passenger door of the little convertible. He wasn't prepared for this, and since he had never considered its possibility, didn't move fast enough. Before he could restart his engine, Lori was sitting next to him slamming her door shut. "Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Lori. "Move." "I don't know if I want to let you do this." "I'm not giving you a choice. You're taking me with you and that's all that's to it." "Why Lori?" "Because I love you. That's why." "That's a four-letter word like piss, and shit, and fuck, and hate." "Not." "Yeah, then you've had a funny way of showing it. Like having me put in jail." "That's because you made me hate you that night." "Then why didn't you call me afterwards?" "I was too ashamed to. That was a shitty thing I did. Real shitty. After that, I didn't think I was good enough for you. Ever since that night, Frank, I really got down on myself. Do you know how I got my old job back?" "Probably." "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I fucked Bill. Well, I did. And a lot more than once. I had to keep fucking him to keep my job." "I knew that would happen." "And that's not all. I did a lot of limos. With everyone. Any man who would ask, I did a limo with him. Do you know why, Frank?" "I think so." "It was because of you. I did it because of you. You see, after I had you put in jail, I knew I wasn't good enough for you. I started to think I was pure trash, and I decided to just go out and prove it." "You never were trash, Lori. That's the tragic thing. You only thought you were. You could have been anything you wanted to be. You always had the looks, you had the personality, and you had the intelligence. But you had to think you were trash." "I hated you for doing all those limos with all those other girls." "Well, I did them after you stood me up or played some other trick on me." "I know. I'm really sorry I did all those things to you. I did them because I wanted you so much and I knew that I couldn't have you. Then, when you did all those limos, it was like you were telling me, "Look Lori, they're all a bunch of whores, same as you, and now I'm putting you all in the same boat." "I guess I did, didn't I?" "When you and I were together I always thought I was somebody special. When you fucked all those other girls you were saying to me, Lori, you really are just a little slut like all the rest." "Don't try to con me again, Lori. I know that you always did limos, and I heard about some of the things you did at bachelors' parties. You made your money that way, face it." "Yes, I did, Frank. I'll admit that now. It's just that I didn't want you to think that I was doing all that. You see, in my heart I wasn't really doing it. When you and I made love it was making love. That's why I told you that you were the fourth guy I ever screwed. What I meant was that you were the fourth guy it ever meant anything to me. Making love that is." "So why did you stand me up so much? I told you not to." "Because I loved you so much. I wanted you more than anything and I knew that I couldn't have you, and that you'd just go off with somebody else someday and forget all about me--as if I never existed. Somebody without kids. So, I'd be mad at you at the same time as I craved you for jilting me which I knew was going to happen sooner or later." "So why do you lie so much, Lori?" "Do you mind driving out of here. Travis might come home." Frank slipped the little car into gear and pulled out of the driveway. The night air was warm--the evening was--perfect as they drove together in silence. They approached the interstate. "What do you think, Lori? The interstate or a country road?" "I always worked around people. Always liked people. I think the interstate." "So why did you lie to me all the time Lori, not to mention practically everyone else?" "Because I hated my life--hated what I was doing, so I made a game of it. It was the only way I could cope, and I never let anyone else in on my game. It was my game and nobody else's." "Were you always aware that you were lying?" "I tried to make myself believe that what I was saying was true. The alcohol helped there. The stories and the alcohol were a way of escaping from myself--from what I had become." "Do you want to stop somewhere for a drink?" "No. this time I want to be sober. I want to feel the night. I don't want to lose track of anything-- least of all the end." "And how do you want it to end?" "In a burst of light. With me and you both knowing that we are really together and that we are ending it together. I want to feel everything. For once in my life I want to really feel." "It'll be easier the other way." "No. I don't want to get drunk. Frank, why'd you kill the lawyer and the judge?" "Because I knew I was going to die anyway and because I didn't want my death to be without meaning." "You sound like a mass murderer, Frank. Sounds like you're saying you can only be somebody if you go out and kill people. Only then will your life have meaning." "No. I'm not a mass murderer," Frank laughed. "Didn't kill enough lawyers." "So, why'd you do it?" "Because it was the right thing to do. Because they caused Stan to kill himself. According to my code--the Code of the West--a man always avenges his friend, and they killed him as surely as if they pulled the trigger on him. And because they stole from me what wasn't theirs in the first place. I believe a man has a right to protect his property if it's being stolen from him, and what was I supposed to do--call in the law? And because those people would go on stealing from other people after they were done with me. Stealing from lots of people using the mantel of the law--our legal system--to steal from decent hardworking men. I was not the first and I wouldn't be the last they'd ever steal from. And because all their little prick lawyer friends were doing the same thing. I wanted to serve notice that stealing, not to mention ruining other people's lives, should not be tolerated. I wanted to jolt all those little parasites into thinking that they could not commit robbery without paying the consequences. I wanted for them all to have fear in their shrunken little testicles every time they so much as thought about stealing from another human being. So I made their deaths as horrible as possible to drive home my point." "So how did you kill them?" "Lori, don't even ask. Horribly and with the maximum amount of bloodshed. Let's leave it at that." "I believe you, Frank. I believe you did it right." "Do you want to shift while I drive? The way we used to." "Sure. Why not." Frank placed his hand gently on top of hers, held it tightly, not wanting to ever let go. Then he placed her hand on the shift knob. He pushed in the clutch. Lori looked up at him and smiled--then shifted into fourth. He shoved the accelerator into the floor. They both watched the tachometer as the needle approached the red line. Then Frank pushed in the clutch as Lori shifted into fifth gear. (to be continued)
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