Oblivion
by Naomi Johnson There's nothing quite like small town charm, then you stop in Oblivion. ___________________________________________________________
“Are we lost again, Daddy?”
The question from his five-year-old son in the back seat held no hint of accusation; it was just a request for information. The accusation was in his wife's face as she gave him that look: the one that said her patience had run out, and he had better stop for directions at the next gas station. The problem, Dave thought, is that in the hills of West Virginia there was not always a gas station on the next corner. In fact, there was rarely a corner. Plenty of switchbacks and hairpin turns, not so many corners. The small towns they had rolled through earlier in the day had appeared to be almost entirely residential. Not much in the way of any businesses or industry. Roughly three hundred years since white men moved into this part of the country and they hadn't had much impact in all that time, aside from the mining industry. “Just looking for a gas station,” Dave assured them both. Linda settled back in her seat, her head turned away from him. “Soon,” her voice was quiet but firm. “It's starting to get dark.” “Just clouds,” he replied. “It's only four o'clock.” She cranked her head around to peer upward through the windshield. “I guess. But they're really starting to roll in. We could be in for a storm. Maybe we can find someplace to have an early dinner, just sit out the storm inside.” “Whatever,.” He stifled a sigh. God, driving with Linda was tedious. She hated driving out of her way to see anything. Hated stopping at any diner that wasn't part of a national chain. She made notes ahead of time on every mile marker and exit to be used to gauge their progress. She never wanted to stop at any roadside attraction or go ten miles out of their way to see a historic landmark. For her, it was all about the destination and not the journey. She was just no fun at this. And she was teaching Billy not to be any fun at it either. Good thing he'd accidentally-on-purpose missed the turn-off to Charleston. As if to apologize, she said, “Thanks for taking my turn at the wheel. I can't stand these roads. There's no place to pull over if something happens.” “Nothing will happen. We're fine.” “There are places where the guard rail has been 44
demolished. You can see where cars have just crashed right though them,” she pointed out. “And there's nothing on the other side of it but down.” “Speeders and drunks,” he assured her. “I'm neither. Is that a sign for a town?” Linda straightened up and looked ahead. “Yes. Oblivion, three miles. Not a very welcoming name for a town.” “Oh, I don't know. West Virginia is full of funny names. I was born in a place called Rum Junction, grew up in Sunbeam.” “I know, you told me. But Oblivion … ugh. It's creepy.” “What do you think about Big Right Hand?” “Are you kidding me? Is that a real name for a town?” “I kid you not. Hey, Billy,” Dave glanced in the rearview, “what would you name a town if you could?” “Peter Parker!” was the instant reply. Billy was all about Spider-man these days, but the idea of naming a town after Spider-man's secret identity set his parents laughing. “I thought that was where guys on Viagra went into dry dock,” Dave said, and Linda snorted, which made both of them laugh even harder. “What?” Billy asked, not understanding. Linda started laughing again and Dave said, “Nothing, son. Look, there's another sign. Man, it is getting dark all of a sudden.” And he flipped the headlights on. “'Welcome to Oblivion. We've been waiting for you. Population 6,666, and growing.'” Linda blinked. “Now tell me that's not creepy. Six six six.” “Doesn't mean a thing with that extra 6,000 attached. Watch for a gas station.” “I'll watch, too,” Billy offered. “You do that, son.” Dave slowed down to accommodate the town's 25mile-an-hour speed limit. Oblivion, he thought, looked like any other small town in Appalachia. A few flakingbrick houses set right up against the road, a couple of more modern ranch houses further back. The hillsides were sprinkled with ancient mobile homes and the ramshackle remains of cheap mining company houses. A slow curve brought them to a stretch of two-lane where residences mingled with small businesses: Oblivion Hardware, Masel's Flowers and Gifts, Koffee Klatch Kafe. No gas stations.