Welcome to Your Final Stop

 I let the hot desert wind brush along the top of my hand and up my arm as I reached out the car window grabbing the air as we drove past the sign: 'Welcome to Night Vale'.

It took almost a year for me and my co-writer to figure out where we were going to write our next piece. If we were both being honest, there was no way we were staying in the city. Too much chaos. Malcolm loves the heat so for him it was the first choice; his mother is from Desert Bluffs and is familiar with the area. I honestly has no idea as you can't see any of these places on a map. It seems sweet here, a dainty community.

The first brilliant thing I noticed is as soon as we passed through Desert Bluffs, the traffic just disappeared. Just silent, endless stretches of roads.

“Aden, what do you think?” Malcolm swerved around a pothole and I noted a hint of sarcasm in his voice. This was his decision and it seems I am enjoying it the most.

“Brilliant. Isn't it awesome? We really will get much more writing done here...” I pulled my hair up in a bun as I felt my hair sticking to my hot neck. “Can we turn on the radio?”

I stuck out my hand to turn on the dial and Malcolm smacked it away. “No, I like the silence.” He stared darkly forward tapping his thumb on the wheel, “I have a feeling we will be hearing it a lot anyway.”

I raised an eyebrow as I turned away and peered out the window. It seemed like endless planes of mud-crack field and sand dunes. There was a massive communications tower looming out of the sky and looked like its foundation was center in one of the dunes. “Is that for the TV? Telephones?”

“Nah. That the radio, thats all they really do for 'entertainment'...”

“How good can it be? Do the know what era we are in? I supposed it will serve us well.”

Malcolm smiled at me, maybe sadly, and pointed at a drive way in the distance. “You ready, Aden?”

“Always.”

~

We have been in this house for about three days. We haven't been into town yet, sometimes we just forget to eat. Or forget we just don't have any food. Truthfully, I think Malcolm is reluctant to leave the house. He also shut the radio in his room.

I peered out the blinds and there still were a group of men and women taking temperatures and photographs at the house in-between us and the one. All of the properties are identical so I don't understand the allure of the middle one. Maybe its because its abandoned? I guess people could get kicks out of that.

“Malcolm?” I yelled across the house with taking my eyes from the group below, “I'm going out. We need food. We are not going to let ourselves die.”

“Sure. Take the car. I'm not coming!” He paused and I heard some shuffling down the hall, “I'm working on the second chapter!”

“Uh, fine?” I called back, confused, we haven't even really finished the first age but I suppose that he has never had a clear writing style.

I pulled on a loose, thin beige cardigan over my gray tank-top. I pulled on my heeled boots, I'm not so short (5'5) that I need it but I felt cheated out of an extra three or so inches so I try to make up for it. I galloped down the stairs, grabbed the car keys and headed out of the door.

Waving at the group of people (I was met with unfriendly to no reception) outside the middle house I slipped into the drivers seat. As soon as I was out of the drive way and on the road I pushed the dial for the radio and looked out for signs.

“Now for the traffic... We have word here at the station that there is a real life four wheeled vehicle containing one woman. One blonde woman. One blonde, brown-eyed woman. One woman who wants to compensate for her already slightly above average height. One woman who is heading straight towards town. Woman, if you are listening turn back now. Go home. Live for one lifetime longer. Or don't, come to Rico's. Rico will help. Rico's.”

I felt my stomach drop as I listened to the voice echoing through the car speakers. I looked around me to possibly see a radio van following me. How would they know about the height thing? I hit around my ears, hoping to dislodge some sort of clogging.

“Back to our main story...” I slammed the radio off. What is happening? Maybe the community is excited and the workers had called in describing what I look like. So they could find me? And give me a welcome when I get to town?

I saw a sign pointing down a rather well groomed road: “Downtown”.

Underneath, slightly smaller: “Big Rico's, 1km”

Alright then.