Absensis

Absensis

Lost Soul

Present Day

It was hot as hell in the streets of Las Vegas and Bill Necedah was glad that his temperamental AC was working for once. Sweat collected on his neck and forehead, the cold air barely coming out. He patted his face with a paper towel; glad Rachel had pushed him to bring some.

The small engine chugged noisily, careening around fried tourists and skating on the searing pavement. Holding an iced coffee with one hand and a half eaten salami sandwich with the other, Bill drove with his knees, expertly cutting through traffic.

Screeching to a stop, Bill pulled up behind 2 other taxis, 3rd in line. He scanned the sidewalks for potential customers, blowing cigarette smoke around the cab, and polishing off his sandwich.

Absentmindedly, he blew on his drink, and took a couple sips, relishing the effect it had on his parched throat. Movement caught his eye, and he focused on the man a few feet away from him. Hunched in clothes that looked much too big for him, he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking around periodically with a quizzical look on his face.

The first taxi pulled away.

Bill waited and drank the rest of his coffee, keeping his eye on the man next to him.

He was probably a tourist. The signs were all there: the perpetual confusion, the expression of wonder. In cab drivers terms: the perfect bait to scam a couple of extra bucks. Rolling down the passenger side window, Bill leaned across the seat and called out, "Hey, you need a ride?"

The man shook his head. "Sara's coming to pick me up," he announced emphatically.

"Oh. Well." Disappointed, Bill heaved himself up, struggling with his large bulk. Not for the first time, he debated the virtues of losing weight and decided it wasn't worth the time. Life was short. Why waste it doing sit ups?

"She'll come. I know it," the man said confidentially, stuffing his fists in the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, whatever," Bill muttered under his breath and rolled up the window. He settled in his seat, selected another cigarette and lit it, stubbing the old one out on his dashboard.

The second taxi pulled away.

Bill moved up, moving away from the stranger. The AC purred and he sank into the cracked leather seat, lulled into sleep by the sound. A knock at the window startled him and the cigarette fell out of his mouth onto his chest. With a yelp, he turned to the side, glaring at the person who had woken him up.

The man leaned on the hood of the car, wearing a mask of confusion and worry. Sighing, Bill rolled down the window again, and poked his head out into the humid summer air.

"What's up?" he asked a little heatedly, still smarting from the burn.

"Where am I?" came the tremulous question.

Oh god. Bill rolled his eyes. Just his luck. Of course, he had to get the drunk guy. Bill eyed the man with a practiced eye. This one had to be the steadiest he'd ever seen. Except for a small stumble here and there, the man hadn't collapsed yet.

"Las Vegas," Bill replied with a snort. He had no patience for the alcohol impaired. They vomited all over the place, hardly ever had money and fell asleep in his cab. One had even taken a swing at him when he had gone to escort the man out of his car. That this man was lost did not garner any sympathy from Bill.

The man nodded slowly, as if trying to work out the meaning in his head. A pause, then, "Where's that?"

Jesus Christ. Bill sighed exasperatedly. It was late; he had no patience for this shit. "Nevada. Got anymore questions?"

"Do you know when Sara's coming? She said she was going to come." He said this last part plaintively and Bill couldn't help feel the least bit sorry for the poor bastard.

Still. Enough was enough. Talking with this guy wasn't good for business. Best to get rid of him quickly, drive away and be done with the whole thing.

"Look pal, you need a ride?" he asked abruptly.

The instant the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. No doubt that he would be treated to more conversation about that Sara chick. But the offer was out in the open and the only thing left to do was to hope fervently that he did not accept.

The man turned the question around thoughtfully in his head. Bill held his breath, and waited expectantly. How long did it take to give a simple answer? Yes or no. It wasn't a friggin life or death decision.

Finally, he slowly nodded, as if he were unsure of himself. "Can you take me to Sara's apartment?" he asked childishly.

Bill gave a relieved sigh. "I'll take you to hell and back if you got the money. You do got money, right?"

The man hesitated getting into the cab, one foot in, one foot out. Bill huffed impatiently as hot air drifted in. Patting his pockets, the man pulled out a battered $20. With a smile that transformed his face, he displayed it to Bill ceremoniously. He sat down, closed the door and looked in vain for a seat belt.