4 - ROUTE 666

The road to hell is
paved with good
intentions.
           - Samuel Johnson

ROUTE 666

Carol pulled into the gas station. A cloud of dust rose up on the dirty desert road behind her Cadillac.

She rolled up to a solitary island of pumps. The sign stood in the sky - on a tall, wide: red, white and blue pole; it read LYCON OIL CO. 

The Cadillac, red on the outside – white on the inside coasted to a stop, smooth and slow, in front of PUMP #1.

The radio played this fun little tune by The Beatles, but she couldn’t remember which song it was and kept getting confused, because she knew she knew it. Plus, there was something else odd about this whole situation.

Looking up at the sign, there was this realization that the price read $0.00 per gallon. Things had been getting cheaper but this seemed a ridiculous situation.

Opening the door and stepping out into the heat, Carol noticed that the pump said Credit Card or Pre-Pay. She was thirsty and dirty and needed a break from that air-conditioned crate of a car - so damn neat; compared to the hot landscape. It felt wrong.

She went inside the store, stopped at the cooler, grabbed a cold lemonade, and walked towards the counter - ready to pay. The man there had a mustache, cravat and brown hair like dirty hay. Very, 70’s, she thought with dismay.

She stood at the counter, said she’d have $20 in gas.

“No charge,” the man said, from under his big wide mustache.

“I have this lemonade too,” Carol told him, shaking her head.

“You can have the drink,” an odd Texas-Twang when he said each new word. “Didn’t you hear the news? Money has been outlawed; determined absurd.”

“I don’t understand,” Carol said. “What do you mean?”

“Everything’s free. Take the food, all the gas that you need.”

“Are you kidding or what -  are you messing with me?”

“No. I am not. Seriously, I’m telling you, it was on the T.V.”

“So, can I have a Sub-Sandwich?”

“Sure… that’s fine, there’s no fee.”

Carol picked up a sandwich and headed on out. She filled up her tank, wondered what that’s about. She got in the car not knowing what to say. She felt good, but not right, in a peculiar way.

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