Lives Of The Unknown Book 1: The Legend of Andrew Lockeford (5 page)

Andrew attended some engineering
classes during his senior year—he decided that with his interest in
cars and creating things, he would become an automotive engineer
for his lifetime career.

It was around this time that his views
on the universe changed again. A teacher told him that the Greeks
treated what we called their “mythology” as their religion, and
that all religions, like myths, are just explanations for
supernatural events. He applied this statement towards science,
thinking that science was the only explanation with concrete proof
in this world, and that everything in this universe could be
explained through logical, possible science; he was officially an
atheist. He still felt, however, that souls could exist and that
they were just not logically explainable yet. Perhaps all answers
are held in the future. Or maybe not.

Then came the
emptiness—he begun to believe that his life was so content that it
was boring. He wanted nothing in particular, whether it be a thing,
such as a video game, or an idea, such as watching the sunset.
Whatever he
did
want seemed to be forever out of his reach. Even early on he
was still satisfied with what he had—it was just until a series of
events occurred that he really felt unsatisfied and empty. He lost
most of his interest in automobiles, and he didn’t know why. He
lost a lot of his friends from high school after graduation, and he
stopped talking to the friends that remained, simply because he
didn’t take the effort to see them face-to-face anymore. He felt
pessimistic and emotionless for months. He thought that maybe he
would feel better if he helped others by joining some clubs or
doing some community service. Too bad he was on the sidelines so
often that whatever he did hadn’t counted for
shit.

He wanted a change more than ever. He
just didn’t feel like he himself needed to change as much as the
world needed to.

Chapter 6

On May 30, 2016, in Pomona, California, Andrew
packed together his clothes for a road trip. His first year at the
university was over, and a trip seemed like the best way to
celebrate it using the money he saved up from work. The
twenty-one-year-old told his boss that he would be taking two weeks
off for vacation, both for the trip and for simply relaxing at
home. He had been yearning to take a trip for years, anyway. He had
already planned out where he would go on the trip and where he
would stay for nights. The first stop would be Searles; although he
stopped liking that town in general a couple years ago, Andrew
still loved the familiar bushes and mountains that shaped many of
his childhood memories, such as riding his bicycle up to the ridge
of a tall hill, seeing the valley below. It was spring at the time,
and the wildflowers made the entire hill look golden in comparison
to the barren, salty lakebed laying at the valley floor. Perhaps he
would have one more chance to see that again, he thought.

Andrew packed a week’s worth of
clothes, expecting to drive into Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Oregon, and
back down into California. He took his toothbrush and toothpaste—he
hated those single-use toothbrushes they had in hotels, and some of
the hotels he was staying at didn’t offer them at all. He also
packed some swimming trunks and his own towel in case he decided to
stop by the beach in Oregon or California.

He would find his parents’ place in
Idaho, who moved there after they wanted to leave Searles and
especially California—too many gun laws were being passed in
California for their comfort. He would stop by there as well as his
grandparents’ house in Nevada.

Andrew notified his parents, his
grandparents, and his friend Troy that he was on his way. His gas
tank was full, his clothes were in the trunk, his wallet and phone
were in his pockets, and the granola bars for snacks were in the
back seat, so he was all set. As he filled up the gas tank the
night before, he thought about gas prices: “Sheesh, the Iraq war
has been over for more than four years and gas is still over four
dollars a gallon. Either we can’t get our shit together in the
Middle East or America decided to be a bit more like Europe.” As
far as food went, he was afraid of gaining weight on the trip,
concerning how he would be sitting down all day long and eating out
several times during the week. The guy wasn’t fat—not too skinny
either—but he wanted to make sure he never became overweight at
all. So each morning, he would go on a run before taking a shower
and heading off onto the road once more. It was half health-issue
and half self-image that Andrew had in mind. Hypocritical,
considering how he says to his peers that he doesn’t care about how
he looks.

Andrew was primarily focused with
getting out of the Los Angeles vicinity. Traffic was heavy, making
Andrew move at ten minutes per mile, but once he could get onto
Interstate 15 and through Cajon Pass, everything would be smooth
sailing. It actually got boring about half an hour past
Hesperia—partly because it was flat open desert for the next fifty
miles. Plus, he had been along that stretch of road many times
before. Next, there would be some mountains to drive through that
would change the scenery.

After three and a half hours of driving, he made it
to Searles. It still looked the same as it had always been: there
was the factory, the desert heat, the salt pit, and of course the
hundreds of people living there that wanted to be elsewhere. No
wildflowers at all this time around—not enough rain during the
winter.

Andrew drove around town to find the
house of his old friend, Troy. There were still dogs running loose
in the neighborhoods, kids hanging around by the liquor store, and
tough-looking guys smoking cigarettes standing nearby. It’s not
really that bad when you get used to the sight.

Troy was still living here in Searles,
but he was in the military reserves and could be called up on any
day. Many teenagers in Searles believed that the military would be
a better way to go than working minimum wage at the factory. Troy
was average in intelligence but an excellent athlete; he got to
participate in the playoffs three out of the four years he was in
high school. And yet he never got a scholarship. Andrew wasn’t sure
whether Troy would go to college at some point or not, but it
seemed he would get through life smoothly enough.

Troy was nice enough to let Andrew
stay at his place for the night—for the price of twenty bucks.
“Still cheaper than a motel,” Andrew said, “and probably cleaner
too, I hope.”

“Yeah, I like to clean the house
whenever someone’s dropping by for the night. Unless it’s some
drunk guy—they don’t care, I think. Besides, I need the twenty
bucks so I can catch up on my bills.”

Yeah, “bills.”

Andrew had this conversation with Troy
the day before so that he didn’t visit Troy’s house without notice
and say, “Can I crash here for the night?”

It didn’t occur to Andrew that Troy
might have a girlfriend living there, who might have been
displeased having someone she didn’t know staying at the house.
Troy was always a ladies’ man—one of those guys who, although
perverted, managed to hook up easily. He knew quite well how to be
a gentleman, though, so that may have been part of his luck. He was
also a drinker, so there was that to watch out for while staying at
the house as well.

After ringing the doorbell and waiting
a few seconds, Troy answered the door saying, “Hey! Long time, no
see,” just like in the movies. Andrew replied, “Hey,” and walked
into the living room with Troy. There was a girl sitting on the
couch.

“Hey Leslie, this is Andrew—I told you
a couple days ago he’s going to stay with us ‘til
tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, I heard you mentioning
that.” She had a fake smile going on, and then it changed into a
slight frown as she said, “Dammit Troy, tonight was supposed to be
our special—”

“I know, I know,” said Troy, walking
over to Leslie to whisper in her ear. Afterwards, he turned back to
Andrew with a trace of guilt in his eyes, but mostly selfishness,
saying, “Looks like you’ll have to sleep on the couch out
here.”

Andrew looked down onto the couch and
said, “Still better than a ratty motel.”

“That reminds me—do
you have the twenty bucks?” Andrew handed a twenty-dollar bill to
him as though he
was
at some motel, with Troy being the clerk.

Troy was
six-foot-two, somewhat skinny, had brown hair with icy blue eyes,
and pale white skin. During high school, he dressed up like one of
those gangster wannabes that acted cool but never proved it; he had
a cap, a jacket, some baggy jeans that hung below his hips, and
some sneakers. Three of these four items would have skateboard
logos and intricate designs on them—just a trend for teenage
clothes during the 90’s and 2000’s, perhaps, but it sure marketed
well. Today he kept the cap and the sneakers, but everything else
looked more proper. He smoked a lot of marijuana with his buddies
before he joined the military—after that he laid low for a while.
He was smart enough to not risk getting caught from some random
drug test. Most of all, he had this aura about him that made people
guess he got into trouble often; however, he hadn’t been arrested
once. Guess that just makes him lucky. Overall, Troy wasn’t much of
a bad guy to at least visit for a day; Andrew did wish he had found
someone a little better, but he knew it could have been
far
worse.

The reason why Andrew decided to stay
at Troy’s place, rather than at someone else’s, was because he was
the only guy he knew well enough that still lived in Searles. He
couldn’t figure out why Troy stayed, but he seemed content enough
with where he was at, so that makes Andrew lucky for finding
him.

Upon first impression, Leslie looked
like a bitch. Simple as that. One of those girls who looked
attractive now, but would look very ugly by the time she was
thirty-five. One of those who didn’t care too much about the guy’s
personality, just as long as she could have a passionate one night
stand. Even if she found a guy she seemed to like—such as Troy—she
would call him “the one” for perhaps two weeks, then call him a
“dumbass” or “fucktard” or any variety of indecent terms later on.
This relationship looks like it’s in the second week. She had
bright, long, wavy blond hair, a face plastered in makeup, shorts
that went above the midpoint of her thighs, and a tank
top.

“Well, it’s three now,” said Troy,
“what d’you wanna do for the rest of the day?” Before Andrew had
answered, Troy reached into a brown paper bag that was lying beside
the couch, but out of Andrew’s sight, and said, “Wanna
joint?”

“No thanks, man.”

“C’mon, it’s a special occasion, and
you’ve got like.…the next eighteen hours before you’re driving
again. Just one won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to take
any chances. I really don’t want to get pulled over on this trip
and have some highway patrol find out I’ve been using.”

“Aw, well, suit yourself.”

After a few seconds of silence, Andrew
changed the subject: “So….anything new?”

“Nothing much. Just hangin’ out here
with my girl.”

“How did you two meet?”

Leslie answered, “We met at a bar two
weeks ago.”

And already the story sounds predictable, Andrew
thought.

“He was smooth-talking me and he
bought me a drink,” she continued. “I thought he was like every
other guy I dated, who just wanted to have sex and leave, but then
he opened all the doors for me, and told me afterwards how I was
beautiful both on the inside and the outside, but the biggest part
was that he stayed with me after that night and wanted to have a
steady relationship! He’s both sexy and caring….”

Andrew had an urge to rub his forehead
in disappointment and stupidity, but he knew best not to. Leslie
and Troy would notice, thinking that he was insulting them by doing
so. Troy wasn’t the type to lie to a girl like that, especially
since they’re here together in front of Andrew’s eyes, but he was
also never the type to have relationships much longer than a matter
of weeks. Andrew had one relationship before, which it lasted for
eight good months until his girlfriend had been killed in a car
accident. After that, Andrew wasn’t too fond of love—he thought
there were more important things to focus on in this
world.

For the next few hours until midnight,
Troy talked about his life after high school, Leslie talked about
her life before and after moving to Searles—she definitely sounded
like she would enjoy living in Miami, Florida better—and Andrew
talked about going to college, getting through his job, and life in
Pomona. A lot of time can be spent when people have conversations
together. Troy, who had taken in a few beers at this point, said,
“You know, you shouldn’t hafta spend yer life bein’ bored an’
miserable all da time. You should do whatcha love, have some fun,
an’ if shit happens, hey, shit happens.” Andrew pondered this for a
moment, thinking that there was some truth to those words, until
Troy finished saying, “You only live once, so live it up.” Now
Andrew was sure that Troy was talking about living to the fullest
in a different way. A trend popped up when the two guys almost got
out of high school, in which that phrase mostly meant partying,
getting drunk, and whatever American culture was conveying as
“YOLO.” He thought that trend had ended already. Leslie just
giggled beside Troy with a beer in one hand and Troy’s hand in the
other.