I rounded the bend to another twenty-five mph ahead sign.

Damned small towns, I thought.

I sighed explosively.

I hated my annual obligatory trip home. My mother’s incessant needling about my life choices inevitably led to fighting, and the fighting always ripped open the deep ache of loneliness I managed most times to keep at bay.

I snorted at myself, shaking my head. In my attempt to make the journey interesting, I’d instead turned it into one that would never end.

I spotted the speed limit sign as I slowed from a traveler’s pace to a grandmotherly molasses in winter ooze. I had hoped to cross the state line tonight. But it was edging towards dark and I was inching along to avoid the bored cop who would pull me over for going twenty-six.

The speed change was dramatic, as if a weird rubbery substance pulled on my car. I half imagined a slurping sound as if I’d driven through a physical barrier.

The first buildings looked haggard, their dated forms weathered, as if no one had bothered to apply a coat of paint in decades. There was an odd charm to the decades-old uniformity of this homely place. Maybe it was a town code, and the folks here were too poor or too lazy to care about updates to keep things fresh, if outdated.

I passed a few mom-and-pop stores carrying what would be an odd variety of merchandise elsewhere but was sensible in nowhere land: t-shirts; souvenirs, though of what I had no idea; groceries; liquor; hardware; and carved yard totems.

I snorted. As if I wasn’t already going slow enough, someone thought I’d want to shop for a t-shirt?

I glanced at the time. Despite the long days of summer, it would be dark soon. My eyes fell on my gas gauge. My tank was low enough to need filling.

The road bent sharply to the left, causing whoever built this place to reduce the speed limit even more. Fifteen felt like crawling backwards. But there was a gas station ahead.

I hit the turn signal in case a cop was watching, though at this speed, no one needed advance warning.

*     *     *
The pixelated display at the station was missing several grids, causing breaks in the numbers. And clearly, no one here cared. The date read “January 18, 1999.” It was June 30, 2022! The temperature read a brisk forty-three degrees. While it hadn’t been a particularly hot summer day, there was no way the evening temperatures had dipped that low.

Unfortunately, the gas prices didn’t match the rest of the sign. They were commensurate with every other station I’d seen for miles, a wallet gouging offense. As if I were being punished for needing to get away, even if the end of my journey wasn’t destined to be leisure.

I pulled up to the pump and stopped my engine.

Opening the car door, the air hit me. I shivered. Maybe it wasn’t forty-three, but it sure wasn’t the upper sixties my car gauge had indicated twenty minutes ago.

I stretched, feeling the drive on my legs and back. I yawned, my exhalation visible in the air.

I grabbed my flannel shirt as I reached for my credit card. Pulling the shirt over me, I looked for the card reader on the pump.

What the hell? No card reader?

I almost got back in the car. I hated the hassle of paying inside.

I got over myself and headed toward the door.

The aroma of fresh baked bread drifted to me, enveloping me in a heady array of bliss. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t seen it when I pulled in, due to the trees, but there was a charming looking restaurant/bakery next door. Light from its windows spilled out cheerily, along with the burble of laughter.

A bell tinkled as I opened the door to the gas station. A drowsy looking man smiled at me.

“Evening miss,” he said.

“Hi, can I fill it please?” I handed him my card.

“Sure.” He slid the card towards him. “Pump’s a might bit slow. Be patient.”

Of course it will be slow. Everything about this town is slow!

The clerk got out one of those old swipe machines and a paper credit card slip.

“Wow. It’s been more than a minute since I’ve seen one of those. Don’t you have a machine or anything?”

“Nope.” He shrugged.

I headed for the door.

“Make sure you note how much you pump!” he called to my retreating back.

I shook my head, the oddity of the situation cutting through my road fatigue.

I put the nozzle in and started the pump. The numbers crawled. They weren’t even digital. I hadn’t seen a pump like this in ages.

Rather than watching the slow procession of the reel of numbers, I studied my surroundings in earnest. The side lot to the station held several old trucks and cars. A tractor-less semi with faded paint sat next to a Chevy so ancient I doubted it ran.

The houses I could see through the trees looked cute if terribly not my style, dated as they were along with the rest of town. I expected to see someone step out a door wearing one of those old frilly aprons to beat a rug with a broom made of thatches.

The pump dinged and clicked. I replaced the nozzle, closed my gas cap, and headed inside.

“Eleven point four gallons,” I announced over the tinkle of the bell. My painfully honest trait got me. I could have given him any number. Instead, I gave the actual value.

The clerk put my card between the braces on the swiper, covered it with the paper, and operated the device. He used one of those old adding machines with the paper in them to calculate my total, writing the amount on the credit card slip. “Sign please.”

I took the proffered pen and scrawled my signature in the box.

“You should try the pie,” he offered.

“Huh?”

“Next door. The pie.”

“Oh um thanks. I am going to grab dinner. I’ll check out the pie.”

I could give two shits about pie when there was fresh bread. But I appreciated the nudge.

*     *     *
I moved my car from next to the pump over to the diner. I had to drive to the back before I found an open parking spot.

For a little town, this place was hopping.

The door had a glass panel, etched with the name of the establishment: “Auntie Em’s.” Quaint, but in an endearing way.

I opened the door. A delicious aroma enveloped me.

The conversations in the room died to near silence as the patrons looked towards the door. I hesitated. For a moment, I saw calculation or suspicion, before faces warmed and smiled at me. The volume soared as diners returned their focus to their groups.

The place had a counter with stools as well as booths and tables, most of which were filled. I picked an empty stool. Being in front of the server usually meant faster service.

Usually.

Instead, I sat for several minutes as if invisible.

“She’ll come,” the girl next to me said, cutting through my study of the small container of sugar packets on the countertop.

I glanced at her. The girl was gorgeous in that quiet way of one who is unaware of her beauty, but is comfortable in her own skin. I blushed.

“The waitress. Vera. She’ll get to you eventually. Hope you’re not in a hurry. No one here is.”

The girl sighed, folding her napkin into triangles and back out, into squares and back out.

The sigh was heavy enough to convey immense sadness. The napkin folding made me aware of my own aloneness.

“So, uh, what’s the happening in this town?”

The girl blanched, as if I’d asked something private.

The waitress approached, sliding a menu in front of me. It was old school, one of those paper menus that doubled as a place mat and town advertisement.

“Can I get a basket of bread?” I said to the waitress’s retreating back.

She raised a hand in acknowledgment without turning to me.

I was studying the menu when the girl spoke again.

“This might sound forward. But … you’re different. We don’t get many like you in town.” She cocked her head to the side, glancing between the woven rainbow bracelet on my wrist and my face.

“I’m just driving through. Surely I’m not the first.”

“What? Oh no, I mean … of course not.” She smiled coyly. “What I mean is. … Uh, you’re cute.”

I blushed again. “So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a town like this?” It was a trite response, but I couldn’t imagine many places more uncomfortable for a beautiful queer girl than a small town in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh, I grew up here.” She shrugged in feigned nonchalance. “No one from here seems to want to leave.”

The waitress interrupted my reverie. I ordered the stew, served in a bread bowl, because I like bread and my stomach was telling me I’d neglected to feed myself in the car.

“Ok, so since you grew up here and have stayed, there must be something that keeps you. What’s fun here? I mean … not to pry but—”

She grabbed my hand. She squeezed and held on. Her hand was soft and warm and sent an unexpected thrill through me. My quick stop for gas was becoming enjoyable.

The waitress returned with my bread. She eyed our hands, clasped on the counter. Her lips narrowed to thin lines. She flicked her gaze from me to the girl. She sighed and raised an eyebrow.

“Rosaline, what’re you on about?” the waitress asked the girl.

Rosaline. An antiquated-sounding name, but I didn’t care. She was stunning and her hand in mind was like liquid electricity, stirring me into self-conflict. I wanted to get on the road. But I wanted to see where this might go, though I had never been a one-night-stand kind of girl.

Rosaline tightened her grip on my hand. “Vera, mind your business. Get the lady a drink? I know what’s what.”

“Hmmph.” The waitress turned to me. “What’re you drinking?”

I hadn’t ordered a drink with my meal, as I needed to stay alert to drive. Before I could decide, Rosaline cut in.

“She’ll take a …” she sized me up, still holding my hand. “Whiskey. Neat. Make it a double … and one of the nice ones.”

I nearly stopped her, but a whiskey sounded amazing. I marveled she had me pegged, and we had only exchanged a handful of words.

The waitress left, though it hadn’t been fast enough. I wanted to talk to this girl.

“Why are you here?” she blurted out.

I tried to withdraw my hand, put off a little.

“Er, I mean. Sorry. I’m …” She cleared her throat and tightened her grip. “I’m not good at this. Not, anymore …”

“I don’t bite.” I smiled. “I’m on my way to my folks. I don’t want to, but it’s past time I see them.” I shrugged. “I decided to take a route I’ve never travelled. And well, your town was apparently on my way.” I glanced at my bread.

As if she could read my mind, she gave my hand a confirming squeeze. “The bread’s great. You should eat it while it’s warm.” She smiled.

Vera called out over her shoulder. “But if you fill up, you won’t have room for pie.”

I grabbed a hunk of my bread, slathering it with butter.

What is it with these people and pie?

*     *     *
We talked as I munched on bread and sipped whiskey.

“Not eating?” I asked, gesturing towards my bread if she wanted any.

“Naw, just here for the company.” She looked at her lap for a moment. “Didn’t expect such fine company.” She looked up at me. Her blue eyes were penetrating.

I was equal parts unnerved and drawn. We’d just met, yet this girl was seemingly enamored of me. But she was gorgeous and flirting was fun. So, I let myself flirt. That I’d be on the road in the morning dispelled my typical insecurities around making an obvious display of my interest in a girl.

Woah. The next morning. When did I decide to stay the night?

I glanced at my watch. It read eight pm. On a dark, moonless night, as tired as I was from the day of driving, with some whiskey in me—

I reached for my glass and found a thin slurry of liquid. I didn’t recall drinking all of my whiskey.

“Vera, get the lady another please?” Rosaline slid her chair closer. “Food should be here soon.” She smiled, her eyes making me warm in places the whiskey hadn’t reached.

I blurted out, “So what’s a beautiful girl like … shit, I asked you that already.”

She leaned towards me. As if she were intending to kiss my cheek, she whispered in my ear, “Trying to get out.”

I furrowed my brow. If town was so bad, why didn’t she leave? Was she only flirting with me for a ride?

“Um, so why not leave?”

Her eyes took on a hint of panic as she silenced me by minutely shaking her head, keeping the motions small and tight, for my eyes only.

Vera placed my dinner in front of me. The aroma washed away my confusion. I grabbed my spoon, voraciously hungry despite the bread I’d consumed.

Around mouthfuls, I tried to return Rosaline and me to the flirting vibe. “So tell me about you.”

“Not much to tell. Just a girl born in a small town with dreams too big for her britches. And queer at that …”

“Hey, it’s never too late.”

She shrugged. “Tell me about you.”

“Well, as I said earlier, it’s time for my annual earful about ‘finding a good man!’ and giving my folks grandkids before it’s too late … Only child and I’ve done them the indecency of being gay …” I cringed. “I’d rather be home, painting.”

“Painting? Like houses?” she looked puzzled. “You want to get back to work?”

I laughed. “No! I’m an artist. Someday, I’ll quit my job and only do my art.”

She chuckled. “So let me get this straight. An artist with dreams to change her reality, on a trip bound by obligation.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Right?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” I scrunched my brow. The polarization of my own words hit me.

“We are more alike than I thought. I mean, I had a sense about you.”

“You’re sweet.” I didn’t mean for those words to come out, but they resonated. This girl and her odd haphazard ways had a way of seeing inside me. Like I knew her. Only we’d met, what was it, an hour ago?

I glanced at my watch. Damned thing was on the fritz. It still read eight.

*     *     *
I pushed my empty dinner plate away and turned towards Rosaline. I studied her eyes. Impulsively, I leaned over and kissed her, gently. She responded by leaning in.

“Don’t get the pie,” she said, under her breath.

“Huh?” I hadn’t thought about pie since the waitress last mentioned it.

“Are you …” she looked sad for a moment. “Are you getting back on the road tonight?”

“After two whiskeys and whatever time it is.” I held up my watch. “Damn thing stopped working.” I lowered my hand, resting it presumptuously on her thigh. “No, I’ll get a room, or something. Can you recommend a place?”

Vera approached, an unasked-for slice of pie in hand.

I waved her off. “Oh, um. No thanks. Just the check please.”

Vera frowned.

“Tomorrow! For breakfast.” Rosaline jumped in. She sounded so perky. “She’s gonna stay the night.”

Vera smiled. “Well, ok then.” She set the pie on the counter. “In case you change your mind. It’s on the house.” She rummaged in the pocket of her apron, producing my check.

“Can I square up tomorrow?” Rosaline asked. “You know, at breakfast?”

“Course you can.” Vera beamed.

Vera bugged me. I wouldn’t be sorry to get out of the restaurant. I glanced at the check and took thirty out of my wallet. I tossed it on the counter and stood.

“No change?” Rosaline gestured at the check with her chin.

“No, I want to get out of here—”

She stood. “I got you. Come with me.”

The eyes of the other patrons fell on us, a bit unduly interested.

This town seemed unused to people passing through.

*     *     *
We stepped outside. “So, I meant it when I asked about a place to stay tonight—”

Rosaline took me into an embrace, kissing me passionately.

I let myself melt into her, as if we had a much more established connection than we did. But something about this girl drew me in.

Maybe it can be more than a one-night thing? I wouldn’t mind a road buddy or even—

She broke the kiss as a man stepped from the diner.

“Where’s your car?” she asked me loudly.

The man stiffened.

“I’ll show you the way to the motel. We should move your car.” She turned towards the man and smiled. “Hey Nate, gonna take her to the inn on Oak Street. Be here in the morning for pie?”

The goddamned pie!

Nate smiled. “I reckon the whole town will come for pie tomorrow.”

“See you at eight then.”

“Eight it is.”

Nate shuffled away, something in his stance proudly smug.

“My car’s over here,” I gestured with my keys. The interaction with Nate had me unsettled and questioning, despite the oxytocin flowing in my veins. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Oh, but I do.” She slipped her hand in mine.

My heart skipped a little.

I opened the car door for her. “Sorry about the mess. Road trip, you know?”

“Nope, I don’t. Never been on one.” She looked sad. “But it doesn’t bother me.” She slid the water bottle on the seat to the side so she could sit and put her feet awkwardly around the debris on the floor.

This night had gotten weirder and better at the same time. I was tired, not nearly as far along my journey as I’d hoped, but a gorgeous girl was in my car.

I got in the driver’s seat and started the engine, the hum of the motor comfortingly familiar even as my hips protested the return to the seat.

“Nice car.”

“Thanks.” I loved my car. Arguably a frivolous thing to spend money on, but I’d had my eye on her long enough, I splurged one day and never regretted it. She was rugged and fun, low enough to the ground to maneuver well through turns, but able to handle rough terrain.

I put the car in drive. My eyes landed on the clock.

8:15.

Freaking weird. My car too?

I glanced in the mirror. Several patrons had stepped out of the diner and were staring at my car.

“Drive slow,” Rosaline said. “Make a right out of the lot.”

Something was odd.

A few car headlights flicked on behind us in the lot as I edged onto the street.

“Make a left at the corner.”

I turned left, as cars entered the road from the diner.

“Right at the tree.”

“Uh, which—oh.” There was a giant tree, unmistakable, at the next corner.

One of the cars—no, two—turned at all the same places.

They’re following us!

I admonished myself. Who was I kidding to think they were following? Like I even knew these people.

We made several more turns, far more than seemed possible in a town like this.

Rosaline glanced into the side mirror.

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” A surge of worry flooded me, but it was murky, as if I was unsure whether it was about Rosaline or something else.

“They’re following. Dammit.”

I looked in the mirror. The headlights behind us had shrunk. She had to be imagining things.

I could see the flickering of an anemic neon sign, “Inn,” several long blocks ahead.

“We’re almost there though, right?” I pointed.

She gnawed on her lip.

“Pull into the entry, but don’t stop the car.”

“Huh?”

“Please. Trust me. I … I know we just met, but I really like you.”

I pulled in front of the reception office and came to a stop, but kept the car in drive. She pulled me into a passionate embrace.

I caught a glimpse of lights receding down the street past the inn as the cars that had been behind us headed off wherever they were bound.

She broke our kiss. “Take me with you!”

“To my room?” The idea of a night with her sent a thrill through me.

“No, with you. Away. Out of here. This town. I mean … you’re gorgeous, and you don’t know me really. I get it if this is too much. If you want, you can drop me anywhere, just so it’s outside of town.”

“In the morning, if you want, you can ride with me—”

“No, tonight!”

She looked panicked. Her gaze flicked between me and the now empty road.

A woman opened the office door.

“Now! Go!”

I don’t know what compelled me. Maybe the promise of a liaison, the fatigue of the day, or the whiskey, but I listened.

I pulled away from the inn.

I accelerated.

Lights flicked on behind us in the inn parking lot. Cars poured onto the street, turning the same way I had headed.

“Make a left. Quickly!”

I turned left.

“Faster!” She drummed on her leg with a hand.

I complied, eager to surpass the slow speed limit.

“Are we actually being followed?” I wanted to disbelieve.

I glanced in the mirror. The distance between us and the string of cars from the lot was diminishing.

I picked up speed.

At the intersection, she had me make a last second sharp left. My tires squealed.

One car shot past headed the way I’d been going moments before. Several others managed to turn in a cacophony of squealing tires.

“They are!” I answered my own question. “What the fuck?” I was alarmed and pissed.

“Do you trust me?” Rosaline asked, tears pooling in her worry-fraught eyes.

“Uh, yeah … I mean, we just met, but … yeah.” The truth of my own words resonated with me. I found myself drawn to this girl.

She nodded and pointed right.

I took the right. We were back by the diner and gas station. Cars blocked the intersection to the road which led to the highway, as if the street were a parking lot. Their taillights beamed towards me, indicating the cars were running.

“Uh, Rosaline?”

“Go around!”

Lights followed behind.

Several men stood menacingly near the cars that blocked the street. I zoomed towards them. They showed no signs of moving.

I cut the wheel to the left, sending the car onto the rutted dirt alongside the road. I missed the tail of one car by inches. I navigated by feel, hoping there were no major obstacles. My car bounced over the rough terrain. The lights of the cars blocking the intersection beamed down the road as I paralleled it.

I swerved right, putting the car on the road.

“Go, go, go, go!” Rosaline shouted.

I floored it, a plume of dust in my wake even as the pursuit threatened to close the gap.

One large pickup blocked the last bit of road.

Fuck this and these people!

I didn’t know what was going on, but I was having none of it.

As I neared the truck, I caught sight of Vera, smug, arms crossed alongside Nate, who had a rifle. They had eerie grimaces on their faces.

I veered to the right, taking the car off the road again, through the saplings and low brush. I flipped Vera and Nate the bird as I did so, unable to contain myself.

Twenty yards past the truck I cut back onto the road. My car swerved for a moment, protesting my abuse of her.

In the mirror, Nate held the rifle to his shoulder, taking aim. I floored it, tires screeching.

There was a load bang. The rear windshield spidered into a web of splintering glass.

That fucker hit my car!

I kept accelerating.

With a sudden burst, music bombarded my ears from my car stereo. It was only when the sound came on that I remembered I’d never turned it off, but it hadn’t been playing.

*     *     *
“Slow down!”

Rosaline had been shouting. I’d been too overtaken by adrenaline to hear her.

“What?!”

I kept my insane speed around several turns.

“You can slow down now! We’re free!”

No headlights pursued us. I eased off the gas to a sane pace.

Rosaline was crying—no, sobbing.

“Hey, what’s wrong? That was scary and all but—”

“I’m free!” Her voice was jubilant despite the sobs. “I’m finally free!”

“I … I don’t understand.” I glanced at the dashboard, eyes finding the clock which read 12:37. “It’s working again.” I shook my head, confused. “Why did they chase us? And then why did they stop? Is it a homophobic thing?”

If it weren’t for this girl in my car with me, I’d have chalked the whole night up to a road fatigue–wrought hallucination.

She sniffled. “Pull over a sec? I want to tell you everything.”

My stomach sank in anticipation of her revealing she’d pretended to be into me to get a ride. My reaction surprised me, given what I’d experienced.

I tried to change the mood. “Well, at least I don’t have to fend off the pie in the morning.” I smiled.

She shivered.

“What is it with the pie?”

“You’re not gonna believe me.”

“After everything else?” I said. “Try me.”

“Didn’t you notice anything … odd … about town?”

I pulled over, stopped the car, and turned on the overhead light so I could see her.

“You mean beyond everyone offering me pie? And following us? And blocking the road? And shooting at us?”

“Yes.” She was earnest. “The time, for instance?” She pointed at the dashboard.

The car clock read 12:42.

I glanced at my watch. It read 10:17.

Both had started again.

I held up my wrist and pointed at the clock. “I thought my watch stopped in town. But it didn’t? At least one of these is clearly wrong.”

She waited.

“Oh, and the gas station was freaking weird. So old school.”

She continued waiting.

I replayed everything since I’d first seen the reduced speed limit sign. I had no reason to know anything about the area. Everything in the town had been odd, but I couldn’t put a pattern to it.

“Uh? Weird people in a pie-obsessed town, who don’t like strangers?” I shrugged.

“No, it’s … town. It’s a bubble. We … I mean they … subsist off …” she shivered. “I’m so glad I went to the diner tonight.”

“What? All this vague shit is unnerving—”

“I was saying. Town is a bubble. The people. We … they, now.” She smiled, a little sadly. “They can’t leave. Not on their own. But in return, time is … slower … there.”

“Time is slower?” My brain was slower. Must have been the whiskey and the purging of adrenaline from my system. I couldn’t follow what she was saying. “They’re not still coming after us?”

“No.” She squeezed my leg. “Thank you. For saving us both.”

“Huh?”

“Town exists. Continues. Because … well, they siphon off the vitality of people who stop in town. That’s how time is slower. It’s like. I dunno … the elders won’t explain it to the rest of us … er, I mean them. But as far as I’ve put together, the remaining life-force of a person siphoned slows time there by that much.”

“You aren’t making sense.”

“Look. I know it’s hard to believe.” She took a deep breath. “Uh, how do you feel about older women?”

“What?” The jump in conversation spun my head. “It’s uh, always about the person, not a number for me. Why?”

She looked at her lap. “I’m not sure exactly but I’m ninety something.”

I snorted. That was ludicrous.

“No, really, I am. I was born in 1925, at least that’s what they told me. We only get the date from travelers. What year is it?”

She had to be kidding. “… 2022 …”

“What month?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, look, I doubt it’s January. Haven’t you noticed it’s warmer now? Wasn’t it cold in town?”

I let myself notice the air blowing through the window I’d opened partway while we sat in my car. The temperature was warmer, by at least twenty degrees.

I remembered the sign at the gas station and the date and temperature it had displayed. I reconsidered the antique pumps, the pace of the town, my watch, and the creepy people.

“Let me play along for a moment. What’s with the goddamned pie?”

She shivered. “The pie … the pie starts the process. If you’d had any, you’d have been done for. It’d been a while since anyone came through. You were a beacon of years to be absorbed.”

I studied her face. “You’re not kidding.”

She shook her head. “Look. Let’s get going. I’ll answer any questions you ask. I really do like you. It wasn’t just to escape. But when we get to a real town, if you’re done with me, I get it.”

I restarted the car and pulled onto the road. I wasn’t sure I believed her. But I wasn’t sure I didn’t, either. The town was creepy, and the people there hadn’t wanted to let me leave.

I decided to trust her.

I squeezed her hand.

“You’re pretty cute … for a ninety-seven-year-old.”

I turned the music up and sank into the rhythm of the road, my right hand embraced in hers.