…And Running

The sky is a washed out blue and the sun high overhead. It’s warm and the buildings around me–metal, wood, stucco–sag in the heat. The buildings, decorated by small lonely trees, are empty. The streets are very dusty and I, along with the rest of the populace, are running. Kicking up dirt, sweating, slack-jawed breathing. I look back and there is a blob roiling and spilling through the streets.

This isn’t your typical slimy green blob. It’s pink and yellow and chunky–heterogeneous. The bits of candied warts on its hide glimmer maliciously in the afternoon.

I run. It feels as if this chase is never ending until I spot a small parking lot. A couple of people are hot rodding a green car. I hop into the driver’s seat and they don’t argue when I stomp on the gas pedal. There’s one other person sitting shotgun and two or three other people in the backseat. I look in the rear-view mirror and see the blob.

The car spins onto the highway and suddenly I feel as if I’m in a video game for car racing. I begin thinking about need for gas, food, shelter. I ask my passengers if they have any money. They answer in the negative. We forgot about that stuff when we were running from the blob. But after a little search, they find a couple hundred dollars stuffed in the glove compartment and a small gray suitcase under one of the seats which contains a strange journal.

The highway narrows down and we’re driving through a strange city with signs in a different language. One of the passengers announce that we’ve arrived in Laos. But how did we end up in a southeast Asian country? I’m feeling hungry, but I drive past the flashy restaurants for westerners–those would only try to rip us off.