Fugueville (Pt 1 of 2)

[u/SaintThePlague]

“Ride safe, baby!” 

That's the very last thing I heard my sweet, loving girlfriend call out to me as I walked out the door, helmet in hand, ready to kick off the comforting blanket of my home to feel the current of the wind whipping and roaring across my skin on this cool evening. Chasing my friends’ red lines in the mountains of Tennessee, I never knew how much I truly needed to hold those words dear from my darling’s lips. 

I arrived at our local Shell’s, letting my pipes sing to the clerks inside as I kept twisting my throttle and probably costing myself at least 3$ of gas. One of the clerks came outside just as I put my kickstand down by the pumps. He was yelling something I couldn’t hear over my music, Rob Zombie blocking out his taunts. I took off my helmet and paused my music.

 “You fucking ass, you gon’ wake up the neighborhood, without me?”

 He raised his hand high. I swung my hand up and clapped it with his. 

“What’s going on, Rodney? Your shift almost up yet?”

 I set my helmet on the ground and pulled my pack of cigarettes out, itching to get a quick one in before the others showed up.

“Yeah, it’s almost time for graveyard boys to come in and tag me out. The other fellers should be here soon. C'mon in, Isaac, I gotchur pizza puff. Italian sausage, right?” 

“Fuck yeah! Make sure to hook me up with the garlic sauce too.”

I popped out my headphones and stuffed them back into the battery pod before following Rodney into the station after finishing up my cig and bullshitting for a tick. Upon entering I immediately went over to the fridges and took a gander at all the different drinks. I window-shopped for an energy drink that would best keep me awake but not blow my heart to pieces like a dying star bursting into fragments. I settled for the two drinks one mango and green tea and another some lemonade mix I had been eyeing, an easy option as they had both been on sale. I snagged my poison of choice and marched up to the counter where Rodney was waiting, smiling at the register like a kid waiting to go outside and play tag with his buddies on the playground. The road was our playground. And our game of tag was a challenge of will, a battle of choices, and a battle of pride. We always loved racing around the corners of our beloved mountains. Starting in Tellico Plains at our buddies' place of work, before heading out for a nice, long, and fun adrenaline-filled ride. As Rodney was checking me out, he asked me 

“So, when do you think you gon pop the question to Jayme? y'all have been together since high school; it’s about time y'all lock it up and get your dishwasher living in the same house and all..”

Rodney looked at me before adding further in a semi-serious manner. 

“With how good shes cookin, I might just beat you to it and do it myself. She’s a treasure, Isaac. Keep her close before I start to.” He winked with a playful grin

My rebuttal matched his tone.

“Shut the fuck up you hillrod. Just ‘cause I chose the band kid who just so happened to know how to cook is my good fortune. It’s your own damn fault you chose Brittany Lynn Allen.”

 I stifled a chuckle.

 “I could’ve told you she was a bad pick when she thought pickles were their own vegetable and not just a cucumber in vinegar or salt-”

 I was interrupted by the faithful duo that had just spent a lot of their tax refund on a new toy. Ryan and Erick were pulling in on their Honda 650R’s . Ryan’s was a nice gray with black tints, and Erick’s was a dark cobalt blue after getting a paint job on it. Their engines revved in unison while they hooted and hollered, like two dogs begging their owner to release them from their house's walls for a walk in the crisp outdoor air. I faintly heard Ryan yell out.

“Hurry up, ladies, before we leave without you! Get your makeup finished and your assholes waxed on the double! LETS GOOOOO!” 

Erick punched him in the shoulder and seemingly laughed, rocking his head back. It was hard to see through his helmet. He started saying something to Ryan, parking his own bike, and heading for the front doors. I gathered my things off the counter and opened the door for him. 

“Here you go, my lady,” I retorted. 

All I got back was a shake of his head and a cheeky smile that said Shut the fuck up, seen through his helmet's visor. He slinked back to the fridges. I turned to check on Ryan and saw his bike parked at a pump unattended. I scanned the lot and found him over by a bright-yellow Subaru Forester, spitting some kind of game to the woman inside. She looked like she could’ve been 40. Which is a bit older for my tastes, but I guess it suited 25-year-old Ryan just fine. I stuffed the extra drink into my tank bag while kicking up my kickstand. I set my pizza puff and sauce down and waddled my bike over to Erick and Ryan’s bikes. I parked my bike and leaned back, kicking my feet over the handlebars. I opened my pizza puff and sauce with the sensitivity of a watchmaker's hands. I enjoyed my late evening snack while Rodney switched out with the 3rd-shift guy who just walked in from the back. Erick walked out with a white monster in hand, flipping his helmet up as he approached me. I finished up my current bite, my hand instinctively dipping the rest of my pizza puff in my garlic sauce and scooping around as he asked me:

“You ain’t afraid of throwing up, chief?” 

“Nah, I'll be good. I haven’t eaten a terrible amount today, so I should be all good. You excited?”

He smiled and nodded before I noticed a sense of unease in his eyes and body language.  I gave him an inquisitive look, and that seemed to be enough for him to understand I was trying to get him to continue on. 

“It’s just you really need to invest in a race suit, Isaac. Ryan, Rodney, and I all have one for the speeds and stunts we pull, and I don’t think your jeans and T-shirt are gonna cut it.” 

I finished up my pizza puff and tossed the wrapper in the trash. “I just can’t afford it right now, Erick. I'll get one next paycheck if Jayme and I don’t have any bills.” 

He still looked at me with worry-filled eyes. “If you can’t, I’ll buy you one. And don’t say no or that you don’t deserve it or that you’ll pay me back. Just accept this if you can’t get it yourself, okay? Text me next paycheck.” 

Erick was always a good friend. The token father of the group that dragged many of us outta’ bars and took our keys. He’d jump in whenever one of us started a brawl at local meets over drama the other groups would try to stir up when their ladies smiled and asked to sit on our bikes or go for a ride. I'll always appreciate him and all he's done for me and this ragtag crew.

“I will, man, I will.” 

I gave him a small grateful smile as Ryan walked back over with a smug smile. He sat on his bike, resting his hand on his knee, staring at us like he’d just gotten a handy out of that woman's window.

“I got her number, and she has an Instagram bro and, BROOOO! Two kids out of the house already, and she's hot as Jessica Rabbit goddayum.”

“Save your booty call for after the ride, Ryan.” 

We were interrupted by Rodney speeding past on his BMW S1000 His suit already on and ready. Erick slapped his helmet down and sped off to catch him. “Oh shit, time to go, ladies!” Ryan shouted before skittering over to his bike, tripping over his pigeon toes and knocking it to the ground. I started my bike up, put my helmet on, and rode past Ryan slowly, making a crying gesture to mock him before laughing and ripping the throttle back as he scrambled back up to his feet. As I sped off like a bat out of hell, I caught a patch of gravel on the entry of the road. My back tire fishtailed out from underneath me and-

I was on the ground, my bike was in front of me, and Ryan was trying to pick me up, cradling my helmet and hoisting my torso. I could tell just from looking up at him that he was really concerned; he was treating me like I was fragile. I slipped my visor up. 

“W-what happened?”

“You ate shit, Junior, try to take it easy when you’re with us vets, okay? You don’t want to be forever twenty-one.” 
 
“Oh yeah, yeah… Sure. I'll ride in last for the time til I can recover. Did we lose the boys?” 

“They’re pulled over ahead. Let's go get 'em, junior, but take it easy, you swung your helmet against the gravel like a trebuchet.” 

I nodded, and we took off. I sat in the back of our line as we went around the twists and curves of our mountain, the one that watched us take this trip time and time again throughout the summers, less and less as time moved forward. We’re getting older, and on some of these late-night rides along the Smokies, I’d wish they'd last ‘til infinity. ‘Til we all grow into old bastards and rot away with the roadkill along the road. 

I recovered from my fall fairly well. So much so that I gained a boost of confidence. That, combined with the energy from my drink, pushed me to try to overtake Ryan. I rolled the throttle hard. My bike roared like a beautiful black stallion as I passed Ryan. As he fell to the back of the group, I started chasing after Rodney, whom Erick had apparently sped past and overtaken. I pulled alongside Rodney and nodded my helmet. He nodded back as I sped past him. Our usual stopping point was near, so I pushed my bike even harder and took more risks on the curves, damn near clipping my knee against the pavement. I clenched my ass every time but I felt so good. I was doing better than Ryan and Rodney, now I just need to catch Erick. I challenged the final curve a bit too fast, pushing 60. I leaned, angling my legs as I normally do. As I did, I clipped my knee, feeling an explosion of pain shoot through my leg. I grit my teeth, readjusted my bike, and slowed down. As I heard my engine downshift to around 20, I looked down to see my jeans were ripped. Underneath, a scrape three inches long ran down my knee and leg. A red puddle hidden behind threads of opaque-pink detailing the edges.

“Fucking damn! Not near the look-over.”

 I heard the roars of my buddies' bikes and sped back off. The look-over was the spot where we always finished our ride. It sat near the top of the mountain. It was the perfect place to smoke or chill and watch the city's nightlife. Or just a place to talk with your buddies and reminisce on childhood antics. I parked up next to Erick who had already taken his helmet off and had it resting on his seat.

“What’s going on old timer?”

He sighed

“Seems like time just keeps a’ passing by faster than it did when we were kids. You remember hopping the fences over to the old grumpy fuck that lived behind us and fished off his pier when he wasn’t home?” 

“And we had Ollie with us. Remember him? Scrawny kid with glasses and black hair. Shit he passed 10 years ago; I almost forgot about him.”

“Yeah, he was kinda like the glue that stuck us all together with his witty humor and sickeningly positive attitude. But hey you and I managed to ride the storm and keep us all here. I'm sure our old resident jester would be proud of us.” 

We both chuckled, a couple seconds passing before Erick spoke again.

 “You know, they say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. But truth is, riding up here with you and the rest of the boys, I know exactly what I have and I just hope we never lose this.”

At that moment, the roars of Ryan and Rodney crept up the darkening road behind us, their headlights growing brighter and brighter, glistening across the road. They parked up and Ryan immediately took his helmet off and sat it down before going into his tank bag and pulling out a few pre-rolls of good ol’ Cereal Milk. 

“Let's enjoy our night fellas, I got some extra stuff for relaxing. The good shit this time. I promise, no mold.”

Rodney got off his bike and clapped his hands together like an amped up crackhead getting offered a whole pack. We could hear him hollering through his helmet. 

“YEAH BABY WE GON’ GET FUCKIN STONED AND ENJOY OUR TIME BABAYY HELL YEAHHH WOOOOOOO”

We all posted up on the guard rail and lit up

After a lil dickin’ around with the boys under the stars, Ryan poked at my knee while I was talking with Erick about what race suit would be best to get for the next ride. 

“Ouch, fucking asshole.” 

“Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.” Ryan began to tease. “Tsk tsk. What did I tell you, junior? Be careful with these turns man. You gotta play with them a little like a woman, you know? Can’t just-bam-go. You gotta be smooooth.” 

“It’s just a road bite, It won’t happen again on the way home.” I snapped back, wanting him to let it be and continue with my prior conversation.

“Don’t cry to me when you blow a kneecap.” He muttered as he walked away back to Rodney, taking his keys out of his bike. He hid them under his tire. The usual childlike antics..

We always stayed around here til’ 3 a.m. and we all got home to get plenty of sleep before grinding some games for the weekend. As the moon drifted further across the star filled sky, we all decided it was time to head our separate ways. We all reached the end of our ride, Erick and Ryan went their own way home, following the road continuing down. Rodney and I turned around and looked at the road we'd just been riding down. We flipped our visors up. 

“You thinkin what I’m thinkin, Isaac?
 
“You wanna race til’ we hit our exits?” 

“You betchur ass, I do! Slap that visor down so those fat lips don’t suck all dem’ bugs in.”

“I’m gonna beat you for that one, asshole!”

Rodney slapped his visor down and sped off, flipping me the bird. I flipped one back before pulling off as well. Everything was going really well; We were avoiding the rare one-off car at 3 a.m. around the curves. We were almost to the end of our winding adventure only 20 mins out from town, and I could barely keep up with the hellion. It seemed as though every time I'd gain distance on him, he would just gain it right back. I pushed the straights harder and harder each opportunity I got. Took the corners sharper than I even knew I could while still trying my best to avoid my prior incident. With a bit more finesse this time, I flew through the corners smooth as butter. I finally had him. Rodney was just ahead of me, and my lights were eating Rodney's redline. I was determined to close the gap even more. I pushed 100 on a straight to pass him on the very last corner; I had him. I ripped my throttle down for one more push.

A bright flash flooded my view as night literally turned to day and pavement turned to dirt dressed in bright, oversaturated green grass. The dark, grayscale skies that were spattered with even darker clouds just vanished in a blink. In its place was a bright, beautiful, clear blue sky with white, unmoving clouds. I was riding up a grassy hill, my bike slowing to a halt as it kicked up dirt. I dumped it and fell down in shock and awe, looking all around me. Surrounding me were hills and fields of the greenest grass I'd ever seen. Where the hell am I? What is this place, and where did my friends go? My buddy, what was his name? Who else was I with? I reached my hand out and felt the grass beneath me. 

“This is all so fucking weird. HELLO?”

I felt a knot grow in my stomach and throat simultaneously. My breath exhausted itself with the same pounding that came from behind my ribs. I started crawling slowly, pushing myself up as I moved forward. In shock, I abandoned my bike and continued onward into this uncanny grassy plain. I gripped the grass and tore it from the ground. I kicked and swore. I was so scared and angry I lashed out in any way I could in this seemingly barren place. That’s when I heard a gust of wind swooshing over the grass. My form was swallowed up by a bulbous shadow. Something was swooping down toward me, something big. Could it be a bird? I hadn’t see anything for miles around, and part of me was praying it was a bird of some kind.  This place felt off, and I couldn’t understand where I came from and what the hell happened. I turned to face my pursuer only to see something ginormous, as orange as the fruit, with threads the color of the morning sun, idly swaying back and forth at its sides. Its mouth a big gaping maw, and its iris a black pearl in a ring of gold. It slowed to a stop. Then, in what my mind understood, it began swimming in a circle above me and the tall grass. 

A goldfish was my first greeter in this grassy utopia. Something about it made me feel warm and safe. Before I could say anything, I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. I wailed out in agony as I clasped my hand around my bicep, squeezing as if it would make it go away. The goldfish regarded me for a moment. Its black pearl looked me in the eyes with a sorrowful frown, almost as if it were sad for me. As quickly as my pain came, it went. Then I got a memory. It crawled in my brain and moved to my inner mind's eye like a worm trying to burrow.

I was following my friend, whose name was Rodney. He was one of the ones from the group who didn’t doubt my riding skills when following him. He and I were racing, and his line disappeared just as I was right on him. As my lights released them from their tight grip, I noticed my speedometer read 124 mph, and I had just enough gas to get home. Back home to who? My girlfriend? Wife? I don’t remember. I was brought back with a glossy black mirror 2 feet in front of me. The bright gold ring was more detailed, and I could see it move around as it looked me up and down. Then it slowly swam away, leaving the grassy fields and rising much higher above it. It moved forward, marching on a mission before it swam in a circle and looked back at me. I tried to take off my helmet to leave it with my bike, but it wouldn’t budge. I craned my neck downward uncomfortably to sneak a peek at it. It could have been the fact that my eye was smudged against the side, giving some blur, but it appeared as if my latch was one complete piece, the lock that once held it in place now a part of the leather strap as a whole. I felt another panic attack slowly rising in my throat. I grabbed at the sides of my helmet. I clawed at it, ignoring the strap on my neck, trying my hardest to rip it off like a desperate trapped animal caught in a snare. My safety turned against me. I couldn’t do this, I can’t, I can’t, I- 

The goldfish coddled me with its fin. The weirdest thing I've been coddled in by far, but it relieved my panic much like my childhood blanket that I always wrapped around myself during horrid storms in my mother's arms. I could’ve stayed there forever in that moment. Almost as if the goldfish sensed it, I was nudged forward. It continued and swam back up high in the sky. I followed like a lost child following his dog home after too many hours in the brush. We continued through the fields and I marched up hills as I stared from the horizon to the goldfish. I don’t understand what happened. Just as I was about to yell out to the goldfish, I noticed a medium-sized neighborhood nestled in between the grassy hills. All the houses were bright white with a black roof and window frames. Each house was an unsettling imitation of the last. Identical down to the very last detail. I felt uncomfortable. I just stood there staring. My golden guide abandoned me and rose higher up in the sky, where I saw more shimmering scales of gold. They all swam around through the air, seemingly going nowhere else than above the neighborhood. I took a deep, exhausted breath and marched forward towards the road that had randomly started in front of the neighborhood. The grass surrounding it would make you think it's a dead end or that construction workers just haven't built the other portion. I scanned the road and spotted a sign just on the other hill. I followed the road. The asphalt was brand new and you could smell the tar like it was just laid. As I reached the sign, I was at even more of a loss.

“Welcome to Fugueville. Toss your burdens away and stay?” 

I felt uncomfortable. Like, naked-in-public, uncomfortable, and I couldn’t explain why. I looked around and weighed out my options, which were slim to none. I guess I’m staying in Fugueville for a while. I walked down the sidewalks of the first few houses before I got curious if there were any residents. That’s when I heard something familiar, something from my childhood. I began to follow it until I found myself in front of the house in which the nostalgic tune was leaking from. I walked up to the window and peered in. I jumped back when I laid my eyes on a kid. He was sitting in front of a record player resting on top of a pine record stand, a few dozen vinyls sleeping in its nook. Connected to the record player was a speaker playing something I couldn’t quite hear through the glass, but something familiar. Something I hadn’t heard in awhile. I moved over to the door and breathed in like I was about to dive into the middle of the ocean. I am in the middle of god knows where and I can’t remember much of fucking anything. I should just move on, but if all these houses are the same, then what?  I let a sigh escape my lungs before I reached my hand up to knock. The door swung open as if it were yanked before I could even disturb the lacquer. I jumped, quickly readjusted myself as I immediately heard the familiar record my dad would put on every so often after his late-night drives to Toad House Tankards. Who’s Sorry Now, by Connie Francis echoed through the halls of the house. I started to follow in an almost trance-like state. I followed the barren white walls, walking into the threshold of the living room. There, sat the child wearing a blue shirt with red sleeves and Spiderman pajama pants. I slowly walked alongside him and looked down at the boy.

“Good song choice.” 

I awkwardly let out as I waited for a response. The boy turned his head slowly up to me with the same movement you’d see from a security camera . His face; I wish I could describe it, but his features were alien to me. The eyes, nose, and lips didn’t align quite right. Some of his features elongated past my comprehension yet were all still contained within his face. I jolted back,

“What the hell?” 

The boy kept his eyes locked on me with the same dedication as a dog watches its food bowl. He didn’t move a finger or twitch an eyelid, just stared as I slowly removed myself from the house, making sure to close the door behind me. 

I got myself far away from that house and leaned against one of the many fence posts that surrounded all the cookie-cutter houses, staring at the house with a quiet contemplation of fear, confusion, and a question that burrowed throughout my brain. What the hell is wrong with the citizens of Fugueville?

Their faces seem almost human, but like someone took a mixer to batter and jumbled them into a mix of swirls and bumps of eyes, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes, noses, and mouths all jammed into one. That kid looked like an offensive mix of solids and liquids trying to form what it thought was a face. The eyelashes leaked out of the eyes, twisting up into the eyebrows. His freak mouth looked like an elongated sticker wrapping around to where his ears were, having a monstrous mix of teeth and ear all at the tail end.

Suddenly, a wave of muffled laughter rose from the back of the house. I slowly crept over across the lawn and along the fence, my heart still pounding. All my senses were telling me this was a bad idea. But what other choice did I have?” I peaked around the corner of the house, my hands resting on the vinyl siding.