Dumont

Whenever the driver thinks the mountains couldn’t possibly get any higher, another peak will appear, towering over the one before it. The pickup is a faithful, if tired, servant and continues its ascent unabated.

The white caps surrounding them on all sides burn in the diffused moonlight. It looks like the climb upwards will not stop until the two are either embedded in the brilliant snow crests, or they breach the clouds that barely scrape by their summits. The moon’s glow filters through a bilious curtain and reflects off the white-as-ivory peaks. One would expect a light so brilliant –though seemingly without a source- to carry heat; yet it has become bitingly cold inside the pickup. The driver and the hitchhiker openly lament their choice of wooly flannel for the one and denim jacket for the other.

Each of their separate plans had included stretches through the Rocky Mountains, wintry plains, and the northern lakes. The driver had previously been warmed by immediate thoughts of revenge upon discovering Paula, and Fresno’s mild winters require nothing more than the jacket he wears now. As for the hitchhiker, he had originally arrived in prison in the balmy weeks of early September, five years earlier. All he had needed was a plain denim jacket on Michigan’s temperate late summer nights. The same jacket had served him well upon his release from San Quentin just two weeks ago; but the pathetic San Francisco winter could hardly prepare him for the mile-high chill now invading the Chevy’s interior, and causing his flesh to prick up.

The mountain paths get narrower, though one would think it were impossible. There are points where one car would have to back up, sometimes for a mile, if another one is to get by. Luckily, no one is traversing the lonely trail on this Sunday night. A few tractor trailers, loosely lined up in an otherwise sloppy formation, rest at the bottom of a slope. A bright orange sign christens it

“Runaway Truck Ramp”. Their windows are solemnly dark.

The driver first makes sure to see if the hitchhiker is awake. His eyes flood with eerie moonlight, like two marbles at the bottom of an aquarium.