by W. Arthur
With the afternoon sun in his eyes, nearly blinding him, Jeremy Alfredson was rapidly progressing from tired and frustrated to angry. The hair metal music he was listening to on satellite radio wasn't helping to tamp down his emotional turmoil.
Neither was the memory of the strange dream he'd had the night before, the dream in which he had been captured by a group of modern-day Amazons. They were holding him prisoner with the intent to use him as a sex slave. Then, perhaps even stranger than the dream itself, was his reaction to it: he had awakened sweating and with an erection he just had to relieve before he got on the road.
Since nine o'clock this morning, he had visited two clinics and five internal medicine offices in this swing through eastern Colorado and western Kansas. He understood that, as a representative for a medium-size pharmaceutical company, it was his job to visit every doctor and clinic he could within his territory, which included parts of four states. However, after two years with the company, he was hoping for the territory he had been initially promised, a territory that included big cities like Denver and Colorado Springs, a manageable territory where he wouldn't have to travel such long distances.
He was on the road five and sometimes six days a week, driving through some of the most remote towns in the Midwest, staying in cheap motels. It had been interesting for a while. Now it was just tedious. Sure, he was making good money, especially for a young man only two years out of college. But he had no social life and no hope of any kind of relationship with a member of the opposite sex that extended past one or two casual dates.
As he continued to drive west on Route 42 out of Tahoma, he spotted the tail end of a traffic jam in the distance. Oh, great, he thought, this is just what I need. His anger rose another notch. He was still forty miles from his next destination and was anxious to get to the motel before sundown so he could get a read on the town and relax a little.
Quickly, he consulted his GPS and saw that there was a two-lane road coming up on his right. It wasn't clear from the screen where the road went to, but on impulse, he thought that it had to be better than staying on 42 and getting stuck in traffic for god knows how long.
When he reached the road, which was flanked on both sides by wheat fields, he made his decision and turned right. All he could see in front of him were fields, asphalt, and the tops of low hills meeting a blue sky. He could see no cars at all. He felt totally alone and he felt good for the first time that day.
Not sure where he was heading, other than north instead of west, Jeremy drove on. For at least ten miles, he saw nothing but recently-harvested fields and an occasional creek. However, far ahead, as the road curved west, the landscape began to change. He could now see that the road seemed to disappear between two hills. He looked at the GPS screen, but it was no help at all. He knew he wasn't truly lost; he could always turn back…but he didn't exactly know where he was either.
Five minutes and three miles later, two delivery trucks passed him going southeast. This made him feel a little better. At least he was heading toward some kind of civilization. And then in the distance, he spotted a town nestled in a valley surrounded by low hills. Thank god, he thought. He didn't even know what state he was in, let alone what town; but he did know that it was after three o'clock on a sunny Thursday afternoon in late August. He knew he was hungry and had to go to the bathroom. A town held promise.
A few minutes later, he reached the edge of the town. A small outcropping of houses and a plain white sign that read 'Scurbin' greeted him. He continued on the road until he saw a small town square surrounded by two and three-story brick buildings. A crowd of people were moving away from one of the buildings. As he got closer, Jeremy could see that the crowd consisted of women, mostly wearing jeans and tee shirts. Very curious. A few stopped where they were and watched him as he slowed down and approached the square.
He stopped in front a building with a sign that read 'Scurbin Diner'. It was a quaint-looking red brick building with lace curtains in the front windows and a door painted white. Several pots of various flowers stood guard at the entrance. He parked, got out of the car, and stretched. The women in the crowd seemed to have scattered in every direction. At least they were no longer staring at him, a strange man entering their town.
He scanned the square and the buildings, but now saw very few people. He did see, however, a tall wooden post in front of a building on the far side of the square. A sign over the building read 'Scurbin Police'. A black and white squad car was parked in front.
Jeremy stood where he was for a moment and stared at the police station. He had seen quite a few small town stations in his travels but none with a wooden post in front. He couldn't help wondering what it was for - perhaps a hitching post left over from the nineteenth century.
Finally, he shook his head and went inside the diner. It was small and cozy with a scattering of tables, all with red and white checkered tablecloths and small vases of petunias in the center. The smell was a combination of cooking oil and vanilla. He was greeted by an older woman wearing a long white dress. He appeared to be the only customer.
The woman eyed him carefully. "Yes?" she asked.
Jeremy was taken slightly aback at the greeting. He had been in lots of diners in the past two years - they seemed to be a staple of small town life. However, nearly all had been very friendly. "Uh... table for one," he said.
She looked at him again, then flashed a very small smile. "First time in Scurbin?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "Sit anywhere you like. Menus are on the table. What do you want to drink?"
He looked over the tables, all of which were empty. "Do you have beer?"
"No," she said quickly. "This is a dry town."
The way she had said dry town suddenly made him a bit nervous. "I'll have a Coke then," he said. "Do you have a restroom I could use?"
The woman pointed to a small corridor to the right of a door that probably led into the kitchen. "Back there."
Jeremy found the restroom, which was unisex, relieved himself, and selected a table near the window. The woman brought him a glass filled with ice and Coca-Cola. "Menus are on the table," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She walked away and disappeared into the kitchen.
He perused the menu but didn't see the usual diner fare. Instead, he saw mostly salads, chicken, and fish. He decided on baked salmon with rice pilaf. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes he preferred weren't on the menu. He placed his order with the woman when she returned.
While he waited for his food, he gazed out the window at the town square. He saw very few people. After a couple of minutes, he shifted away from the window and pulled out his cell phone. He tried to check his messages and email but found the service to be spotty at best. He beckoned to the woman in the white dress. "Do you have wifi?" he asked when he got her attention.
She shook her head. "We're working on it, but we're pretty isolated here."
He could see that for himself and thought he needed to get out of this place as soon as possible. He could feel himself growing more and more restless and uneasy.
The food came, and he ate quickly, anxious to put this strange and seemingly unfriendly town behind him. Just as he was finishing, the door opened and a woman dressed in a police uniform walked in. She was at least six feet tall and solidly built.
The police officer scanned the interior of the diner, looked at the woman in the white dress, and nodded. Then she slowly approached Jeremy's table. "Excuse me, sir," she said in a low, no-nonsense voice. "May I see your driver's license please?"
Jeremy looked up from his plate and swallowed the last bite of his fish. He had seen a few female cops before, but rarely in a small town. Her presence unnerved him a little, especially the way she seemed to tower over him. "Why?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Is that your CR-V parked in front of the diner?"
"Yes."
She scowled. "Show me your license, please."
Jeremy nodded, pulled out his wallet, and handed her his license.
She scanned it quickly and laid it down on the table. "Well, Jeremy Alfredson, we have a problem."
He could feel himself begin to panic. He took a deep breath. "What kind of problem?"
"For starters, your car is parked less than ten feet from a fire hydrant."
"Oh," he said, trying to remember where he parked. Then he realized that wasn't all of it. "Wait a minute, you said, for starters. What's the rest of the problem?"
"There is more. But that would be better discussed at the station. Please accompany me." The police officer was polite but determined.
Now, Jeremy's fatigue and sense of panic started to cloud his judgment. "This is all I need," he muttered. "Look, officer, I've had a lousy day and I'm tired. I'm sorry about the fire hydrant, but I really didn't see it. Just tell me what the fine is and I'll take care of it and be on my way out of this lovely town of yours."
"Jeremy, you're not going anywhere until we straighten this out," the police officer said. "And I would advise you to curb your attitude. Let's go."
You haven't seen attitude, Jeremy thought. As he looked into the dark eyes of the officer, his face flushed. Common sense told him to go with her and resolve whatever it was that needed to be resolved. However, his quick temper, fueled by his fatigue and frustration, suddenly superseded his common sense. He stood up.
"Damn it," he shouted. "I just came here to eat and take a piss, then back on the road. I'm in no mood to be railroaded by some fucking lady cop on a fucking power trip. Now, just tell me what the fucking fine is and I'll pay it... plus a little extra for your time and trouble."
The police officer never changed her expression. She glanced over at the woman in white. "Martha, you're a witness to this," she said.
Martha nodded. "I sure am, Linda."
Linda turned back to Jeremy. "I warned you. Cursing and disrespecting a deputy are serious crimes in this town; so is attempted bribery. I am placing you under arrest." She withdrew a set of handcuffs from a pouch in her utility belt. "Put your hands behind your back."
For a moment, Jeremy thought he was hallucinating. "What the fuck!"
"You better do what she says, boy," Martha said.
"I don't fucking believe this," Jeremy said.
Linda grabbed his left arm and turned him around. It was immediately obvious that she was bigger and stronger than Jeremy.
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