This isn't weird.

The One and Only

The one and only—

Ben slammed on the brakes..

"I GET IT!" he shouted at no one, banging his fist against the steering wheel. "BILLY SHEARS! I FUCKING GET IT!"

It was a shame he wouldn't be able to share his victory, because of course, he could never bring himself to admit to Walt and Hoyt that he hadn't gotten it in the first place.

But he would tell Millie the story someday, and she would mock him relentlessly for it for the rest of their lives.

After a bit of manic cackling, he composed himself and glanced at his mirrors before getting back on the road. He noticed it again—the same car behind him, having caught up a bit closer this time around. At least, he was pretty sure it was the same car. Its most defining characteristic was not being a pickup truck. The coincidence amused him—the odds of encountering another driver taking the exact same route for so long this far out from any town seemed awfully low. Maybe another local from Dewberry Creek, he thought, but after a few more miles, the car faded into the distance, and he forgot about it once more.

Ben had assumed that morning that the fuel in his car would be sufficient to make it to Molly's and back, but he was only halfway through his drive when he realized that his tank was closer to empty than he had expected. It had been irresponsible to leave town without filling up first, he thought, annoyed with himself. There still might be enough to get back to Walt's house without stopping, but it would be a needlessly reckless gamble to risk the possibility of running out of gas in a remote area where he was unlikely to have cellphone reception. One of the previous day's accidental detours had taken him past a little gas station that he was fairly certain was nearby. He could find it again easily enough, if he could scope out a recognizable landmark.

Five minutes later, he was relieved to spot a familiar pine tree that preceded a familiar sharp turn onto a familiar stretch of rough asphalt. The wilderness lining the road gave way to acres of sprawling hayfields, and a line of telephone poles and the occasional streetlight confirmed that he was, in fact, en route to civilization (and more importantly, gasoline). Just as he was congratulating himself on his shrewd navigational instincts, he noticed it again—that same car in his rearview mirror.

Ben felt a twinge of unease. Could it really be pure happenstance that kept him and this stranger going in the same direction, making all the same turns, for this long?

Of course it could, Ben thought. It made perfect sense that another car would turn down a road that led to the only gas station for miles. Still, he sped up just a little, and decided to himself that he would keep his stop as brief as possible. When he finally pulled up to the pump, he jumped out of his car with an irrational sense of urgency, only to make the disappointed discovery that there was no card reader—he would have to go inside to pay.

The attendant was a bubbly blonde teenager, surely no older than sixteen, who greeted him with a cheerful "Howdy!" as he walked through the door. She was frustratingly chatty as he tried to rush through the transaction, but he didn't want to be rude, so he smiled, and indulged her in the bare minimum amount of small talk about the mild weather expected for the coming week (on Wednesday, it was barely going to get above ninety degrees!) before hurrying back out. He filled his tank as quickly as he could and slid back into the driver's seat, but when he reached into his pocket for his keys, they weren't there. Damn it, he'd sat them down on the counter when he was pulling out his wallet. Back inside, he found the keys right where he'd left them, but as he picked them up, he caught the attention of the teenage attendant again.

"Oh, no, can't get far without those!" she said with a giggle.

"Guess not," he agreed, with as much humor as he could muster. He started to turn away, but she kept talking.

"Well, don't feel bad! I do stuff like that all the time. I'm so dang forgetful, you wouldn't even believe. My dad's always gettin' onto me for leavin' the light on in the truck. At least once a week, he gets up to go to work and finds out I done killed the battery again. We got a second car, so it ain't too big a deal if he's in a hurry, but lordy, if it happens one more time, I think he might just drop me off on the side of the road like an unwanted pup. I try to remember, of course! It's an accident! I'm just so scatterbrained, everyone says I'd lose my dang head if it weren't attached."

Ben smiled and nodded through her story. "I'm sure you'll get better about it," he said, trying again to move toward the door.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I hope so, but my uncle Herbie, on my mom's side, he's the exact same way, and he ain't never got any better at rememberin' stuff. He told me just last week, he accidentally put his phone in the fridge not once, but twice! Searched and searched for hours 'til he got thirsty and went to get himself a beer. You think he'd learn to look there first at this point, but like I said, he just can't remember nothin' to save his life. Hope I don't turn out like him! Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy, real good daddy to my cousins. Just forgetful, is all."

As she rambled on, he thought he could see the movement of a vehicle pulling into the lot in his peripheral vision. He managed to force an anemic little laugh. "Uh-huh. Poor guy. Well, I better get on my way, thanks again."

When he turned toward the door, his stomach dropped. There was the car, a battered maroon sedan with rust eating through the paint on the roof. The driver couldn't be bothered to use an actual parking space; it was stopped at random in the middle of the tiny parking lot. Ben looked back to his own car.

"Fuck," he breathed.

There, leaning against the hood with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the one and only Caleb Buckner was waiting for him.