The Last Ride

That morning it took a stretch-limo to comfortably seat the 32 souls we were transporting. I had just got a call for two riders who needed to be picked up an hour earlier and already had them in the back, so I thought I'd just double them up because they were were all going to the same place. They were a torn and tattered group, and I held open the back door, tipping my hat as they filed in. I wanted to look away as they boarded, but I did not. They all smiled, obligingly, impressed by the fancy ride. An older man with an Eastern European accent waited until everyone was in, then asked if he could ride up front with me. I said yes.

The two passengers already seated inside that I had just picked up on the other side of campus greeted the big group, sounding like old friends. The old man beside me tightened his lips together and raised them towards his nose and exhaled.

Now we may go, he said.

In the back I overheard quiet conversation about the weather. There was a strange flurrying snow coming from a cloudless sky that day, and the wind was whistling outside the tinted windows, swaying the trees violently.

I drove around the great lawn over which a lone walker was crossing. He wore a backpack and was in a hurry. Someone in the back noticed him, and pointed. There he is, they said. Everyone became quiet and looked.

They gathered by the inside window, and pointed their fingers at him, but his head remained down, his gaze upon the ground in front of him.

The old man beside me squinted as he looked.

It seemed to me that the walker was with the group. A straggler that had slept late and missed his ride. But no one told me to stop so I continued driving around the circle.

When he reached the middle of the field he paused. He had raised his head to us, and turned as we circled on the road around him.

Let's pick him up, someone said. I think he needs a ride too, someone else added.

I think there's room. We can always make room.

I looked to the old man beside me, and slowed the vehicle.

We shall make room for him as well, he said.

I stopped. A young woman opened the back door and climbed out.

Hey, come on, you almost missed us, she yelled invitingly and with a sweet voice. He stared and his glasses glistened in the sunlight and the wind rippled his clothes. Others began exiting the vehicle, beckoning him in a chorus of voices.

Come on with us. This is your ride too. You're with us, we have plenty of room.

We're supposed to all ride there together. He didn't move. He just stared, looking lost and bewildered. He glanced at his feet like he wanted them to move. His shoulders registered the movements of his heavy breathing. He turned his gaze to the place behind him where I had picked up the group.

Their beckonings quieted.

There was silence.

The old man, who was still seated beside me waited, still breathing through his nose with his lips tightened, like men do when either their anger or their sorrow is welling up to a point of action. He opened and closed the door, the noise breaking the silent stares. He walked around the vehicle and stood alone and away from the group.

He addressed the lone soul in the middle of the field by name.

You have made us your brothers and sisters upon this day.

The surrounding stone buildings echoed his powerful voice.

We wear your marks upon our bodies, and they are our marks now. Heed our calls for this is no dream. We are forever linked with you upon these very grounds. The wind formed into words, and we were surrounded by horrific-sounding whispers as a thousand voices hissed.

You're a coward. A skinny sissy. I'd like to have met you an hour ago, I'd a torn you limb from limb. You would know pain. Who were you to judge? Who were you to take away? Revenge is mine.

The lone figure staggered, holding his hands over his ears. The old man bellowed out his name again. We are separated from the sobs and tears and hate left in your wake. We are forever bound together. We are your friends, and it is with us that you shall now ride.

The building from which the group had come blackened, as did the one at a distance from where I had picked up the other two riders.

Shadows from the buildings encroached upon the field, leering towards the center where he now sat with his knees upon the ground, his head down. He lifted his bloodied eyes towards the group.

The group sounded their pleads again as the shadows loomed darker, and the whispers raised their screeching pitch. My riders responded.

Hurry! Before it is too late. You are not safe. Come with us. Please. Please, before it is too late.

The old man stepped up the curb and onto the grass and looked at the group. They followed his lead into the field, marching side by side in a line behind him.

The lost one quavered at their approach, and fumbled inside his bag for something. I backed up. I was watching from near the car and feared what he was reaching for and took cover behind the vehicle.

I never saw what he was reached for, he was blocked by the group that had encircled him. They closed tightly upon him, all of them laying their hands towards the center of the circle.

The whole field had become immersed in dark shadow now, eerily because the sun still hung in the sky above. Then a single light shone from the center, flickering like a candle, and hovering above the ground. The group raised their arms upward, and between each pair of hands there glowed another light. The light then spread across the field, invisible candles sharing the flame until the whole darkened field was filled with flickering light, like a city's nightscape.

The lone figure emerged from the inner circle, and the lights parted at his approach as he headed for the blackened place from where the group first emerged.

He disappeared forever into the building of his intent. Lightning flashed in the windows as the thunder burst with a power that shook the ground beneath my feet and brought me to my knees. The group was still surrounded by the thousands of flickering lights. They stood and looked around. They were quiet and held hands. The field of lights now parted again as they began their walk in the opposite direction towards the car and me.

I held the door once again as they climbed inside. They were quiet and reverent. After the last one entered I closed the door. The old man walked around to the front and climbed in. I took one last look at all of the lights glowing in the field, and then got behind the wheel. I looked over at the old man and he pointed the way.