14 Causeway

Spending a few hours in that van with those three people is a stifling affair, so Ill spare myself the ordeal of trying to describe Darubelles obnoxious topics of conversations. That night, the trio counted up their money and realized that they didnt have enough for a motel, so the Obscure parked at the back of a rest area and they slept in the vehicle: the Obscure in the front, Darubelle in the backseat, and Kraken on the flatbed in the back. Daru awoke in the middle of the night and peeked over the front seat out of curiosity. The Obscure slept with the shotgun in his arms and his coat over his face. She looked in the back of the van. Kraken was sitting cross-legged, her back straight. Daru waved to her, expecting the woman to be awake, but she was indeed asleep. Baffled, Daru curled up and fell asleep. She stayed awake for a while, excited to be on the road with such remarkable individuals, but she felt uneasy about it. These two people. These companions. In her opinion, she should feel closer to them. By now, she had expected to see into their souls and feel like a family, but they were still strangers (never mind that one didnt have a soul and the other was a walking nightmare). Suddenly, she felt cold and unsure. A few minutes later, she felt imperiled. If she closed her eyes, these two strangers sandwiching her in the vehicle could do anything to her. Her eyes widened in the dark. The Obscure snorted, and she just about screamed. He started kicking and moaning and Daru realized he was having a bad dream. The bluesman grew more restless, so, feeling suddenly compassionate, Daru climbed into the front seat and put her arms around him. Dont worry, Sweetie, its OK, she said to him. Those demons in your dreams cant hurt you. The Obscure was actually just dreaming that he was trying to open a beer and he couldnt find the bottle opener and he was getting frustrated. But Darus

soft words and warm embrace felt like the pangs of a late-night drunken coma, so his body calmed down even though, in his dream, he was gnawing on the bottle cap: his teeth shattering and his gums bleeding. There was also something about a centipede, but that was kind of vague. Daru, feeling closer to the Obscure, climbed into the backseat, and as she did, she noticed that Krakens eyes were wide-open. The dark-haired woman stared at her, unblinking. Daru, unsure of what to say, returned to her seat and tried to sleep. After a moment, Kraken spoke to her. You have a good heart. Kraken meant the statement as less of a compliment and more as a plain observation. Daru smiled and fell asleep, warm with her accomplishment. The trio awoke early the next morning and set out for Orleans, agreeing that theyd eat once they reached the shore of Metairie. First, they had to cross the Lake Punch-a-train Causeway. After an hour, they reached the town of Mandeville and then got on the highway. Suddenly, they came to a screeching halt. Before them lay a line of cars as far as the eye could see. And remember: in a land as flat as Louisiana, the eye can see pretty damn far. Looks like we might be here a while, said the Obscure. I can check for traffic reports, said Daru twisting the radio tuner. She waded through station after station of pop music, bland hip hop, and talk radio until she came across an announcer on a frequency that was mostly static. All lanes southbound on the Causeway have come to a stop, said the voice. Bad accident on the turnoff has done turned the whole bridge into a parking lot. If you can, avoid the Causeway and find an alternate route. The Obscure considered making a U-Turn, but a blockade of cars had already formed behind them including a steamroller that edged precariously close to their back bumper. The cars started inching forward, but came to a halt again. Their van had barely reached the twenty-four mile bridge, just far enough to pay the three-dollar toll. They passed through the gate and stopped again behind a 3

Winnebago. The steamroller paid the toll and passed through, coming to halt just inches from their van. Christ, I didnt think that guy behind us was going to stop, said the Obscure. Listening to this asshole traffic guy isnt going to help us any. Put the music back on. Daru attempted to twist the knob, but she pulled too hard and the dial broke off. She grinned weakly as she held the detached piece up to the Obscure. Sorry, looks like were stuck listening to the traffic report, she said. The Obscure examined the radio, attempting to find some way of modulating the frequency, but the knob acted as not only the controller but also the power button and volume control. The Odysseus XT Car Radio (which is what they currently dealt with) was voted in Car Radio Monthly as one of the worst radio designs in history. The Obscure even tried the presets, but the previous owner had not set any. You remember the previous owner? Bitten in half in the middle of a field? An hour later, they moved eleven inches. The steamroller nudged itself forward, nearly nicking their bumper. All movement had stopped. Northbound traffic rolled along steadily, but very slowly. The Obscure angrily turned to Kraken. Why did you convince us to wait until we were across the bridge to eat? It was your idea, she snarled. Well, Im still blaming it on you. If were lucky, there might be food in here, said Daru. She looked in the glove compartment, but found only maps and insurance papers. She looked in the drawer beneath the seat, but found it was empty. She even opened the pocket in the dashboard, but only a crusty pen popped out. Two hours passed and they had traveled a grand total of six feet. If the Obscure were lying on the road, they would have barely passed his head. Another hour ticked by, but they did not move at all. They all reclined, attempting to get comfortable in those awful seats, attempting to imagine that the traffic radio 4

station was some kind of beacon of hope. Their efforts failed. The radio station descended more and more into static. They could hear the reverberation of a Christian rock station trying to sneak through the frequency. and all lanes are light in my heart declaring a state of emergency touch me where I avoid the Causeway Jesus!... Krakens face began to glow with agitation. Suddenly, she leapt forward and punched the radio, shattering the glass face. All sound ceased. Unsatisfied with the destruction, Kraken exited the van and began to roam the aisles of cars. Should we go after her? asked Daru. If you want, said the Obscure. I think shell be fine. Daru looked out the window and saw Kraken punching and thrashing at the side of a moving truck. Shes not fine, said Daru leaping from the van. She ran to Kraken and pulled her away from the vehicle as the driver got out of the cab. Whats going on back here? he asked. My sister, said Daru, shes just so upset about this traffic. Well, I dont blame her. Sorry about your truck, said Daru pointing to some large dents in the trucks side. It dont matter. Its a rental. I tell you, Im trying to transport some model train sets to a convention at the civic center, but I dont think Ill get there in time. Model trains? asked Daru genuinely fascinated, letting go of Kraken who wandered off. Yeah, you want to see the trains? The driver opened the trucks back and Daru jumped inside. The driver pulled a drape from a table and revealed a glass case displaying a model train world. The tiny tracks trailed through a papier-mch mountain range and through a brick city where miniature people waited patiently at a train station. This is great, said Daru pressing her face against the case like a smart kid at a science museum. 5

Id turn it on, but theres no electricity, said the driver. Im glad somebody got to see it. By the time we get across the bridge, the convention will have started and they dont accept late-comers. Everyone should see this, said Daru. Wait here. She hopped out of the truck and pounded on the Obscures door. He rolled down the window. You got to see this amazing thing! she said. Darubelle, I finally found a comfortable position in this stupid tin can. If I shift my weight even slightly, Ill lose it forever. So, no, Im not moving. Fine, but youre missing out. The girl looked around and spotted a trio of old folks stretching their legs beside a station wagon. Daru, still wearing her multi-color costume, ran to them waving her arms and hopping like a flea. Hi, does anyone here like trains? The trio, at first put-off by her strange approach and frightfully odd clothing, nodded gladly. I used to make model trains back when I lived in Mile High City, said one of the men. The other man and the woman also remarked on their appreciation of trains. Great, you should all come see this model train this guy made. But we shouldnt leave the cars, said the woman. What if it starts moving? I dont think its going anywhere, said Daru. But if you must know Daru climbed the side of a semi truck like a nimble gecko and stood on top of the trailer. She shaded her eyes and gazed into the distance. None of the cars moved. Numerous drivers were standing beside or sitting on top of their vehicles. She climbed down and told the elderly trio about her sighting. That settles it, said the first man. Lets go take a look at this train. Daru led the old folks to the truck and the driver helped them aboard.

Hi, folks, said the truck driver, the name is Tom and welcome to the West Mountain Rail. The trio stood in awe at the massive and intricate miniature before them. Im glad I brought my camera, said the old woman snapping pictures. Im going to see who else is interested, said Daru exiting the truck. Meanwhile, Kraken roamed the bridge, her need for destruction subsiding, but her hunger increasing. She sniffed the air but detected only diesel and cement. Diesel and cement. Diesel and cement. This world is racked with pollution and horrid, unnatural materials. Diesel and cement. Diesel and cement and hamburgers! She recognized that greasy, fatty stench of mutilated cattle meat. But where was it? She peeked into a nearby car, but the guy inside was asleep. She checked the next car. She came face to face with a baby in a car seat. The baby started wailing. She went to the next car and saw a group of college kids cooking burgers on the engine of their beloved jalopy. Should I get the egg salad out? one of them asked. Yeah, the ice is melting, its not going to keep, said the cook. They noticed Kraken watching. They thought her scowl was a look of disgust or confusion, but she was in fact plotting a way to steal their burgers. What, you never see a guy make burgers on his internal combustion engine? asked the cook, a guy in a yellow and purple jersey. You got any extra burgers for a hungry woman? asked Kraken. We got a dozen, said the cook. You want to join us? Yes. Where did you get the meat? We brought it with us, said a girl with purple hair weaves. We were on our way to a cookout, but were stuck here. And none of our stuff is going to keep, so were eating it now. You from Orleans? Ivy Beach, said Kraken deciding it was a good enough answer. Oh, do you know a guy named Carl? asked another student. No. The other students laughed at the guy who had asked. 7

Is there only one Carl in the whole city? one of them asked. Kraken just watched the chunks of meat sizzle, her patience dwindling. Finally, the cook took a patty off the grill, wedged it in a bun, and held it out to their guest. Here, maam, you get the first one. Kraken thanked him sternly and ate. A grin curled on her lips for the first time. She was that much closer to being human. Darubelle returned to the moving truck with a crowd of fifteen people. Most of them werent necessarily train enthusiasts but just wanted something to do. They passed by people sitting on their cars playing chess or card games. They passed by an artist painting the traffic jam on a large canvas. They passed by a windowless van rocking wildly on its shocks. The assembled crowd stepped into the moving truck as Tom turned on a lantern and set it beside the table. The soft glow illuminated the plaster landscape like a winter sunset. Voices chimed their admiration. Look at that! Look at the snow on the mountains. So much detail Wow, theres even trash in the trashcans. Can you turn the train on? I dont have any power, said Tom. Ive got a generator, said one spectator. Hold on, Ill go get it. Kraken finished the burger and sat on the road to digest it. The college students ate their burgers and invited other motorists to join them. Someone turned on a radio (avoiding the traffic station) and filled the street with music. Kraken looked down the bridge and saw makeshift grills and stoves cooking lunches. She saw badminton players, drum circles, prayer groups, fishermen, poker tables, and sunbathers establishing their temporary residences on the concrete strip.

The Obscure noticed the crowds forming and had an idea, but it meant he would lose his comfortable position. He decided it was the worth the loss. Armed with his guitar, the Obscure stood on top of the van and began to tune his instrument. Hey, a guitar, somebody called. A small group surrounded the van, anticipating the free concert. Daru examined the burgeoning city and fell in love. From the top of the moving truck, she imagined tents arising for the night, tents made of canvas and fur like a yurt on the Mongolian tundra or teepees on the American plain. She imagined drivers hunting seagulls and pigeons and cooking them over open fires. She imagined the people of the bridge collecting dirt and dust from the bottoms of the cars, making garden beds, and growing crops. She imagined the bridge people crafting spears from exhaust systems to protect their borders and using car hoods as shields. She imagined that the slowly moving northbound lane would become jealous of the flourishing southbound lane and would wage wars to steal their food and art. But they, the people of the southbound lane would fight back. Theyd use their knowledge of the bridges architecture to set traps and gain advantages in combat. A great battle would commence and the casualties would be vast, but in the end, the people of the bridge would be triumphant. Theyd bury their dead at sea and continue to thrive on the concrete strip. The next generation of bridge-dwellers would finally fight for sovereignty and win. The Punch-a-train Causeway Southbound would become its own micro-nation and its people would live the rest of their days in harmony with the land. What a stupid fantasy. The traffic started moving. Word spread from mouth to ear down the twenty miles of concrete. Everyone cheered but not without a sense of disappointment that the little civilization would end. Having gotten over the initial shock that their plans were postponed, they had adjusted to their new reality and had even come to love it. The traffic jam gave them Stockholm Syndrome.

Having barely connected the generator to the train, Tom had to turn it off before the model steam engine had even completed one pass around the loop. The college kids had to start packing their unused food even though some of them had not eaten. The Obscure hadnt even played a single note by the time the crowd dispersed to their cars upon hearing the news. Disgruntled, he stuffed his instrument away and attempted to rediscover his comfortable position to no avail. Kraken, carrying an extra burger, wandered back to the van and looked at the steamroller behind them. The driver was climbing back into his machine, muttering something about the son of a bitch who had caused this congestion in the first place. Daru shook Toms hand and wished him the best. Thank you, Ms. Darubelle, for giving me a chance to show off my work. I feel like this day wasnt a waste. We artists have to stick together, she said and then leapt from the truck. She passed by cars and trucks full of people who waved goodbye to her lovingly. The trio of old people even handed her a jar of homemade preserves, which she accepted gladly. These hundreds of people in their hundreds of metal boxes would return to the streets of the city. Theyd blend into the sea of automobiles, indifferent and apathetic. Theyd cut each other off, cuss out the faceless drivers hidden behind tinted glass, and would never see each other again. As Daru climbed into the van, she paused to appreciate the feel of the bridge beneath her. She was standing in the middle lane of a road rarely walked upon. She felt special, significant even, to have witnessed such an event. Five minutes later, the traffic began to flow. They inched forward little by little until they hit speeds of thirty, forty, and finally fifty miles per hour. The Obscure looked in the rearview mirror and spotted the steamroller following them closely. I dont like that thing behind us, he said switching lanes. The steamroller (an experimental craft that allowed for high speeds) sped up, attempting to make up for lost time. Daru began to talk about the wonderful 10

train set she had seen, but no one else felt like listening. Daru ended her story, feeling alone again, but she assumed this was how it was supposed to be. This was the chemistry amongst the group: neither close nor distant. Kraken and the Obscure didnt want to hear her prattle, but theyd defend her from danger, just as she would protect them. We artists have to stick together, she thought to herself. Then her stomach rumbled and she realized how hungry she was. I obtained an extra hamburger from a flock of students on the bridge, said Kraken. I was going to eat it later, but I think you two could use some nourishment now. She handed the burger to Daru who happily thanked her and split it in half, giving the bigger piece to the Obscure. Its about time, said the Obscure stuffing the burger in his gullet. Thanks, Kraken, he added with a full-mouth, its very thoughtful of you. A half-hour later, they neared the end of the bridge and noticed the cause of the traffic jam sitting on the side of the road: a dismantled drinking bird. The pump jack sat lifeless and full of bullet holes, but the Obscure knew it was one of the birds from Pisshawk County. What is that? asked Daru. Is that one of those things that pumps oil? How did it get out here? It walked, obviously, said the Obscure. I wonder why its here. As the cars passed the pump, they slowed to a crawl so everyone could get a glimpse of the fiend, but the steamroller driver wouldnt have it. Grinding his teeth in an explosion of rage, he pressed the gas and plowed forward, crushing a sluggish El Camino in front of him. The car skidded to the side of the bridge where the cars behind it slammed into the disabled car. The steamroller forged forward, crushing the side of a Bug and ramming into a van. The two vehicles spun out of control, blocking all traffic behind them. What is this guy doing? shouted Daru. Oh no. Watch out, Tom! 11

The steamroller aimed for the moving truck, but the driver lost control and he crashed through the barrier. The steamroller plunged over the side of the bridge and was lost to the river, taking the driver with it. Daru and the Obscure looked back and saw a new traffic jam forming behind them, made of cars that had not experienced the last jam. The drivers would wait hours for the wreck to be cleared, forming a new city in that time. But the three musicians were leaving that world behind. Soon, theyd discover Towers Voodoo Circus and theyd discover why that drinking bird had died on the bridge. Lets get some dinner, said the Obscure. And, Kraken, dont you fucking talk me out of it. Kraken snarled at him with a venomous hiss. Darubelle finally felt like she had found a home with these people, but they were still one person short: they still needed the forth member of their future band. But they wont meet him until Memphis.* Demon Bluesman by Anthony Sotelo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://theobscureshow.blogspot.com/
* The

12