Julie's Ride Home

Her eyes widened with shock, then she turned dark.

"NO! I can't go there!" she said. "That's Shepherd's Place!" she said, in a panicked voice.

"Wait, who, whose that? Who is this Shepherd?"

"I don't want to talk about it, it's just..." she stammered. "Just, I...I can't go back there. I just can't. Okay?"

Ronnie got the strong feeling she didn't want to talk any more about it, so he let it drop. But yet his curiosity had been piqued. What exactly had happened to her there?

"Okay, sorry. It's okay. We won't go there, then." He said. "King Hill is a pretty strange place, I admit."

"Let's just go back to Hammett I guess. I could show you around, like, where I grew up and stuff." She suggested.

"Okay, sounds good. You want to stop and get something to eat or something?" Ronnie asked.

"Sure! Let's swing by Charlie's Drive in!" She said. "I could go for a shake or something?"

Ronnie paused. He didn't remember there being any drive in restaurant in Hammett, in fact as far as he could remember, there were no restaurants at all, other than the little grocery store which he supposed made deli sandwiches to order if you asked. "Yeah, that sounds good, cool!"

For some reason, Julie insisted that they remain on back roads, however, instructing Ronnie to detour through a series of dirt farm roads before reaching the town. Although he had been out this way several times, even Ronnie would have been lost had it not been for her directions. He didn't mind though. It was a nice day, and a nice way to spend an afternoon, just cruising around. And Julie was pleasant enough company. As she rambled on to Ronnie about the various farms and people she knew out here, she seemed almost as if she was lost in her own nostalgic memories of growing up out here, and Ronnie didn't mind humoring her.

They swung into town, or rather, what passed for the town of Hammett. Two stores- one small grocery and a general goods store called "The Trading Post", a long-closed motel with a faded sign reading "Koffee Kup Motel" and across from there, a building housing the Canyon Trails Realty along with an antique store. Two blocks further down, a long-abandoned espresso coffee shack still stood in a weeded lot, a "For sale" sign facing the highway. But there wasn't much else- and just as Ronnie had remembered, there was no drive in restaurant called Charlie's, either.

They swung up Main Street, two blocks up towards a building housing a tractor business and the town post office, across from which was a vacant lot.

"Um, where was this place again?" Ronnie asked, somewhat confused.

Julie looked at him, and he could see she was somewhat distraught. "I don't remember...It was right over here... But it's not there, I mean, I swear, we go there all the time! What happened to it?" she cried.

Ronnie looked across at the vacant lot. "I don't remember there being a restaurant there..."

"It's this nice drive in, I mean the food's nothing special, but...wow, did they close and tear it down that quick?" She looked not only confused now, but downright distraught.

"I guess so, they must have. I don't remember there being anything there, but then again, I haven't been through here in a while." He said. "I guess, they have snacks and stuff down at the market, if you want. We can still grab something there real quick." He added, reassuringly.

He turned the truck around and drove back down to the Hammett Valley Market, located back on the town's main drag, and parked in front.

"Can I just get maybe a small pack of chips and a drink? Do you mind?"

"Sure, sounds good. You want anything else, smokes?" Ronnie asked.

"No, I'm good." She replied. Ronnie didn't smoke either, but he figured, may as well be a gentleman and treat her while he was here.

"Okay, I'll get this. Hold on, I'll be right back."

He went in and grabbed the food getting a bottled water and a pack of those sugar wafer things for himself, and a bottled soft drink and small chips for her. The guy at the register, no doubt some long-time old crusty local who probably had known Julie since she was a toddler, eyed him with a surly and decidedly unfriendly expression. Like, What are you doing in my little town with one of our daughters? Ronnie paid for the food and left quickly.

He handed her the drink- a 12 ounce plastic bottle, and the chips. For a while, they just sat out front and talked while they snacked. She told him about the pace of life in this small town, about the cranky owner of the market he had just left, and the old lady who used to live down the street (the house was long gone) who thought the aliens spoke to her through her dentures

"Can we stop at the school? I'll show you where I went to school!" she exclaimed suddenly, as she finished her drink. The old schoolhouse was located just a couple blocks down and one to the north, on a large wooded lot. The place had the look of a classic, two story schoolhouse building, and Ronnie saw it had been recently renovated and restored. They pulled up to it and walked in. Inside the main classroom, Ronnie could see that they had turned it into kind of a museum, with plaques and other exhibits.

He was studying the exhibits intently. The whole history of the valley was laid out, including a map showing long forgotten ghost towns. Ronnie, who liked local history and considered visiting old forgotten ghost towns to be one of his hobbies, made it a plan to take some time, when he had the chance, to visit some of these places. He had never even heard of some of these old towns, and he thought had explored almost every small town, or the remnants thereof, in this part of the state at one time or other. But this exhibit showed towns with names like Indian Cove, Pilgrim, Grindstone, Reverse, and Prince Albert- place names that had long since disappeared from maps and whose very existence seemed to have been long forgotten. Except for the memories, which had been preserved in this schoolhouse.

And as he looked over at Julie, she seemed lost in thought, as if lost in her own memories.

"We spent so much time here...many of the kids boarded here, you know. The ones from way out in the country, I mean. The dorm was upstairs..."

"We used to take trips down to the river after school let out, and once a week, they would take us into Mountain Home to go shopping, go to the movies..." she continued. "And we would just run around and play, here in the yard. We would all hide up in these trees, and this one time, the teacher walked right under us and Emmie, he just nailed her in the head with a walnut and she FerrrEEEAKED!!" she said, laughing.

"And over there, behind that row of trees, that was where I had my first kiss- Danny was a couple years older but he was my huge crush, we actually went steady for almost a year." She went on. Ronnie listened, intensely. While museums were fascinating, they could be so dry. This girl was a like a living, breathing history book, but yet so much more than that- these were her memories, her home. But how long ago was all this? The school building looked old, like it hadn't been used in decades, and yet Julie herself couldn't be more than 20.

"Where is Danny now?"

"Oh you know...the war, and all- he signed up, and you know, he, he never came home."

Ronnie's eyes grew teary.

"I'm sorry. I bet Danny was a good man and a good soldier."

"Yup. He was good to all of us. I wish you had known him." She replied.

Ronnie added, "You know, I bet he was thinking of you the whole time he was over there, and missed you. He probably tried to be brave, just for you."

Ronnie paused, not knowing how much more he should say. He didn't want to make her cry, and could already sense in her the emotion, the loss, the love she had for Danny, and for their home town. Heck, they might have gotten married, gotten themselves a little place of their own out here, or maybe even moved up to the city.

"This was a good place. I mean, it really was. It seems so long ago now, but not really, I mean." She said, dreamily.

"I guess so. This is a neat old building, that's for sure." Ronnie added.

"I know but...see, to you it's just a building! To me, it was my home, my life! I grew up here. I loved it here!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just sound like that. It's just that, I've always wondered what life would be like in a place like this. That's part of the reason I like checking it out. And hearing you share your stories, it really brought it to life. I feel like I really get a sense of it, and talking to you- It sounded fun. I know this is a good place, I feel it too!" he said.

"That's okay. I mean, I think you understand. It was a simple life, but, you know, it WAS fun and yeah, we liked it."

"So what do you wanna do now?" Ronnie asked, kindly. She smiled, and her smile seemed to light up the whole day. God, she was a sweetheart. What would she be doing with an old guy like him, didn't matter, only that right now, at least he had her warm companionship and friendship, if nothing more.

"Well, I dunno... I suppose I better be getting on home, before it gets too late. I mean, it's cool hanging out with you and all, but, you know, we should move on."

"Yeah, I guess so. This was a cool afternoon spending it with you, too. I like coming down here, you know." Ronnie said, suddenly and self-consciously wondering if he would scare her off, or creep her out, with that last remark. Sometimes, in his own experience, girls would think it was too forward if you said to them you enjoyed spending time with them like that. He really was, after all, a bit too old for her.

"And totally, thanks for the lift, and all."

"No problem. So, now, where do you live again?" Ronnie asked, as they walked back to the Toyota and got in.

"Oh here, I'll show you. Here, get back on the main road there and just head west, out of town."

3) Coming Home

Ronnie piloted the truck out past the edge of town, then continued on down the road. On the right, he noticed a new, modern house was under construction, its pine timbers forming the skeleton of a home that would have some impressive square footage when it was completed. The road passed through empty pastures and farmland, eventually following the banks of the Snake River before reaching the Indian Cove Bridge which spanned the river. They kept driving. Julie had gotten quiet, perhaps caught up in her own memories.

"Which way now?" He asked.

"Turn right here, it's not far" she said, indicating a right turn onto a narrow dirt track that led into some potato fields. He turned off the main road and onto the dirt farm road. Ronnie didn't see any houses out here, but he figured they were getting close, as this road didn't look like it went anywhere in particular.

"So you live out here, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a little ways further. We're almost here." She replied.

The road continued onward, but the cultivated fields ended, and he saw that it was now bordered by tall unkempt grasses and thickets of cottonwood trees and bushes that were too high to even see over the tops of. Eventually the road seemed to peter out, and there was nothing but a patch of weeds in front of him, and the tall grasses and brush on all sides. He couldn't see anything that looked like a farmhouse or structure, however, and as he had earlier that afternoon, Ronnie began to wonder, once again, what game she was playing at.

"So, is this it? Are we there? Is this where you live? It looks like a dead end." Ronnie asked, looking over at her.

The passenger seat was empty.

Ronnie was aghast. The color drained out of his cheeks. He stared at the empty seat next to him for several moments, utterly dumbfounded.

"Julie??" JULIE?!? Hey!"

He got out of the truck, walked all around it, saw nobody. He shouted her name again. Again, no one answered him.

Had she given him the slip somehow? Jumped out when he was driving down the dirt lane? Maybe he HAD scared her off, and she had realized it was awkward hanging out with a guy almost old enough to be her dad. But how could she jump out of the truck when it was moving? He wasn't going that fast, he thought, but he still would have heard the car door open at least. But when he got back inside the truck, he saw, to his infinite shock, that the passenger door was still locked.

Panicking, he looked around once more and called out her name. Again, no answer. It was then that he felt his sanity began to slip away. Wherever she was, (and whatever?!? He thought in a panic) Julie was now gone. Wondering what to do next, he started the engine and backed up. He pulled a three point turn around and almost mechanically, trying not to think, drove back down the lane to the main road, and then back across the Indian Cove Bridge that led into town.

And it was then that the remainder of his rational thoughts fled. It had been mid to late afternoon, around 5 or so, when they had stopped at the old schoolhouse. Barely 20 minutes- if that!- had passed since then, as far as he could tell. But yet, as soon as the truck crossed the bridge and reached the north side of the river, it was as if a curtain had dropped, and the sky was now pitch dark.

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 10:15 PM.

He pulled over, shaking visibly, unable to compose himself for several minutes, utterly baffled as to what had just happened to him. Had he suddenly fallen asleep? Been in some kind of swoon? He would tell himself this, and many other lies, in the coming days and weeks when he dared reflect on this day, which would be seldom.

He drove down the length of the town's main drag. All of the businesses, such as there were in Hammett, were long closed for the night. He saw nobody, no one who could even verify that he and a passenger had ever been there earlier that day- what had seemed to him less than an hour ago but which was clearly several hours.

Ronnie remembered nothing of the drive home back up to Nampa on Interstate 84. Except for one small detail: As soon as his truck passed through the eastern end of Hammett, a pale ball of light, like a strange disembodied flashlight orb, had appeared suddenly in the cab, veered across the dashboard, and then quickly vanished through the cracked open window.

III. Epilogue

Ronnie had heard the urban legends of vanishing hitchhikers before all of this, but yet never in a million years would he have imagined anything like this happening to him. And this was different. Julie had seemed as flesh and blood as he himself, or at least, as much as Jennie, who he still thought about way too much- every single dang day. And he had seemingly spent all afternoon with her, driving around, but who really knows what had happened during that missing time before night had fallen so abruptly? All he knew was that when he checked the truck the next morning, he found an empty soda bottle and an empty bag of chips littering the floor by the passenger seat.

In the following months, Ronnie would chalk up the whole experience to the result of too much stress, too much on his mind. Maybe the anxiety of his job and the loss of his girlfriend had triggered some kind of nervous breakdown, he thought. He told himself this, largely to make himself feel better. Maybe it would help him forget.

He still felt drawn to old abandoned places though, but limited his excursions to the abandoned mining towns in the mountains- places with names like Cuprum, Pioneerville, Cornucopia, Sumpter, and Rocky Bar- and the people he met on these daytime excursions seemed to be nothing more than fellow history buffs like himself. Up here, in the mountains, the thick pines, deep annual snowfall, and clear streams promised renewal and freshness, and whatever ghosts there were remained at peace. But whenever he had the need to travel down the interstate south toward Twin Falls, however, he never ceased to floor the accelerator, and his eyes never left the road. Ronnie never set foot in Hammett or King Hill again.

And when an article in the Press Tribune came out a few months later, saying that the Owyhee County Sheriff had identified some human remains found in the Poison Creek area as belonging to a girl named Karen Shandeling, it did nothing to jog Ronnie's memory. Which was lucky. For, had he seen the picture of the tall, freckled, reddish blonde haired girl- the last known photo of Ms. Shandling- it might have brought it all crashing back down. According to the article, she had been a teenager living in the Marsing area who had been missing for the last several years, and was presumed to be a runaway seeking to escape her ultra-strict parents. The coroner's report stated that she had been around 19 at the time of her death, but the odds of identifying a cause of death, or even a perpetrator, after so many years, were unlikely.