#32 - Larry Walters

They had eaten lunch at a McDonald’s in Colby. Over double cheeseburgers and limp yellow French fries they had discussed their impressions of western Kansas; it’s vast, open, immutableness. This was the first time for the two of them to make the drive together, their first road trip as an official couple. Although the journey had started in Denver with energy - with a real spirit of adventure - the monotony of the eastern Colorado plains had lulled them into an almost meditative quiet. By the time I-70 delivered them into the flat, rectangular expanse at the center of America, Megan had fallen asleep, her bare feet propped up on the dashboard, and Luke had slipped into a fuzzy, AM-radio-induced trance.

After their meal, Megan had made a dispassionate offer to drive for a while. Luke insisted it wasn’t necessary.

“Good.” Megan said, as they walked across the hot blacktop parking lot to the car. “I sorta hate driving.”

“Yep, I know.” Luke said.

Back on the interstate, Megan reclined the passenger seat and closed her eyes. She let out a satisfied sigh and said, “Why am I so tired?” When Luke didn’t respond, she answered her own question. “Actually I don’t think I’m tired – just totally relaxed, you know? No class, no homework, no finals to worry about. Love it.”

“Yep. Me too.” Luke said.

“If you wanna talk, just wake me up.” She said, returning her feet to the dashboard. The red paint on her toenails was flaking off.

“Okay.” Luke said.

She sat up in her seat and began digging through the JanSport bag in the floor. She retrieved a pair of sunglasses with giant round lenses, slipped them on, and returned to her reclined position. A few minutes later, she was asleep, her breathing heavy.

There was nothing good on the radio. Luke had hit the radio’s scan button on both FM and AM frequencies. Preaching, country music, preaching, farm report, preaching, country music, preaching. He wished he had brought an audio book.

To help pass time, he tallied the license plates he saw. Most were from Kansas, but there were many from Colorado, as well. He’d seen a few from South Dakota. Lots of Midwestern states; Nebraska, Oklahoma, Missouri, Illinois. He saw one from as far as Rhode Island.

Luke read the large billboards on each side of the highway. They were familiar and uninteresting. He’d made the drive across Kansas at least a few times each year of college. He knew the names of all the small towns that lined I-70, and which offered the best fast-food options. Colby and Hays and Salina. Once, on his drive home for Christmas break, he’d spent the night in Wakeeney at the Kansas Kountry Inn during an ice storm. It was his first time to stay in a hotel alone. Sitting on his bed that night, he’d eaten a bag of Doritos and microwaved burritos from the gas station next door. The experience had felt vaguely momentous. He had fallen asleep watching the Cartoon Network. The next morning, after the roads had been cleared and salted, he continued east toward home.

When they passed Wakeeney, Luke considered waking Megan to tell her the story of the ice storm and his night at the hotel, but decided against it. She was really asleep; jaw slack, mouth open, and a slightly audible vibration in her throat, like the sound of sucking the last drops of milkshake through a straw. Very quietly, he slipped his cell phone from the front pocket of his blue jeans and snapped a photo of her. He loved how comfortable she was.

She slept for another hour, and then very suddenly sat straight up and used the back of her hand to wipe a line of drool from the corner of her mouth. She pulled the sunglasses off and squinted out the windshield at the interstate stretching ahead of them.

“Sorry.” She said.

“For what?” Luke said.

“Making you drive while I sleep.” She looked into the rearview mirror and used her index fingers to pat at flesh just below her eyes.

“I like driving.” He said. He cocked his head from side-to-side, stretching his neck. “But wow, you were really going after it there for a while. Felt like I had a bear sleeping next to me.” He tossed his head back, mouth open, eyes closed, mock-snoring.

She hit him on the arm. “Shut up. And watch the road.”

He was still laughing, but her attention was fixed on the horizon ahead of them.

“What’s that?” She asked, pointing through the windshield at a distant point in the sky.

Luke leaned forward in his seat, his eyes following the trajectory of her finger.

“Hot air balloon.” He said.

“Oh.” She said, but then added, “It’s all warped looking or something.”

She was right. The outline of the balloon was, from their distance, jagged looking. Not the smooth, upside-down gourd shape of a hot air balloon. He shrugged. “Hmm. It is sort of funny looking.”

Megan continued to watch the object. They were gaining on it; the shape becoming more distinct.

“It’s lots of little balloons.” She said. “I think.”

Their east-bound lane of the interstate was subtly climbing the side of a broad, prairie-grass covered hill. As they came to the top, their view expanded in all directions, Kansas writ large. 

Megan gasped. 

It was sort of beautiful, Luke thought. But then Megan said, “Dude, do you see the guy up there?”

She had never before called him Dude. He laughed, pulled off his sunglasses, and squinted in the direction of the object. It was obvious now that the floating object was - as Megan had suggested - many small gray balloons bound together. Suspended beneath, where the passengers’ basket might be on a hot air balloon, was something that looked like a chair. The chair was holding a man. The man was holding a gun.

I-70 divided the landscape in front them, and the giant bouquet of balloons had carried the man into the southern portion. Their car caught up with him and for a brief time they were parallel with one another. The man was ascending quickly. It was getting more difficult for Luke to follow his trajectory while driving. His eyes darted dangerously from the sky to the road and back to the sky.

“That…” Luke said. “Is crazy.”

“It’s so awesome.” Megan said.

They were both quiet for a moment and then Megan said. “What in the world?” She shook her head.

Luke pressed on the gas and the car jumped forward. He was well over the speed limit.

“I’m pulling off at the next exit.” He said.

Megan was twisted in her seat, still watching the balloon-man behind them. “Why?” She said.

“We’re gonna follow him.” Luke said, clutching tighter to the steering wheel. He was leaning forward in his seat, his expression intense.

“Really?” Megan said. She smiled.

“Oooh yeah.” Luke said, biting his lower lip. “I need you to keep an eye on him. You’re my navigator, OK?”

“Sure.” Megan said.

Luke spotted an overpass bridge ahead, and to the right of it, an exit. He whipped the car around the front of a Mayflower moving truck, flipped his blinker on, and headed up the exit ramp. “Cool.” He said.

Megan was rolling down the window. Once it was low enough, she stuck her head out, followed by her shoulders and arms. “I can still see him.” She said.

“Good. Don’t lose him.” Luke said.

The two of them briefly made eye contact over the tops of their sunglasses. “Cool.” Megan said. 

*     *     *     *     *

To learn more about Larry Walters, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.