DESERT DWELLERS
by Jessi Shakarian
In the deepest, darkest part of the desert, there were illuminated neon lights. A solitary gas station as far as the eye can see. In the daytime, it was an oasis for the weary traveler, lost somewhere around Reno, or maybe even in California, hard to tell. In the sun, Ramona could tell the difference between California and Nevada, as there was something different about the silver state she couldn’t put her finger on.
But in the dark, it all looked the same.
Ramona Shaw was the overnight manager and only night time attendant/cashier at the last gas station in California, and it was still early in her shift. Which meant cleaning the counters and wiping the dust off the shelves. Her gas station wasn’t the best one – it wasn’t fancy like the one in Red Rock, the major town 30 miles out where there was a fast food joint tied to it – not to mention that her boss jacked up the price of gas per gallon to double the going rate. It was the rule of the last gas station at the border. But from 10pm to 5am, it was hers, and very few people came through, and that’s how she liked it.
Her combat boots from the army/navy surplus squeaked on the linoleum floors as she moved her cleaner soaked rag along the edge of the shelves. Her jeans had holes in the knees that weren’t there when she bought them, and most of her screen tee had faded from too many washes. Her hair dyed bright purple was fading. Adult life really wasn’t what she thought it would be when she was in high school, but she was figuring she fared better than some of her classmates who already had children. Others, she chose not to think about.
The bright halogen lights hurt her eyes, but her hand held radio was turned up loud enough to hear it anywhere in the store. She was ready for 11pm – a mere few minutes away, when her favorite radio show started. Desert Dwellers was a paranormal conspiracy show from 11pm-1am, was the best radio show in the history of radio shows, she was certain of that. The host, Dante, picked a topic each night and investigated it, Ramona always assumed it was out of his basement, somewhere in New Mexico, he had said in previous shows. He took phone calls and interviewed “experts” in that field – though Ramona was suspicious of some, particularly the holistic healing and spiritual leader types.
She powered through the last aisle – snacks, cookies, and candy on the right side, single use razors, aspirin, and soap on the other. As she reached the end, the eerie opening music filled the store. As soon it registered in her mind, Ramona bolted for the counter. Her boots scuffed up the floor as she turned the corner to get to her side of the counter. She still had to mop anyways.
Welcome to Desert Dwellers, folks. A calm night in the desert, and yet...well, we all know something lingers just beyond. Beyond our grasp, beyond our sight. But we know it’s there.
Ramona looked out towards the pumps. Good, no one was there. She hated when customers interrupted her listening time.
Tonight’s topic is debunking. Let’s debunk some popular myths and ideas tonight. I’m in the mood to do something a little different. So, you got a thing that gets on your nerves when people perpetuate it? Or maybe you did some digging on a particular issue, and found something that disproves the theory. I’m feeling open tonight, so you alien hunters out there, call in. Same for you, conspiracy theorists. Just no JFK nuts. The government’s never going to reveal that one, don’t bother.
Ramona chuckled, and Dante did too, through the speakers.
No, I kid. You can call in if you want, JFK theorists, but only for debunking.
Ramona looked over to see if she was listening, this was definitely Abigail’s kind of episode, but then she realized that she was all alone in the store. Beyond the radio was just the buzzing of the lights overhead.
It had been three months since Ramona graduated and Abigail left her. Desert Dwellers was something she shared with Abigail, even though Abigail never seemed that into the possibility of conspiracy theories. But she always said she enjoyed Dante’s openness to some of the wackos that called in, and seemed eager in understanding the different sides of the story.
She was going longer without looking for Abigail every night, but on the nights that she did check, the truth felt like Ramona was swallowing a wasp.
Ramona watched a pair of headlights shine into the store and then turn away. She imagined they light up two pieces of the nothingness of the desert and then turn off when the driver kills the engine. What lives out there never to be truly seen. A few moments later, the bell rings as the driver walks in. He’s a big dude, looking ragged from the drive. Ramona’s grateful for the distraction, and turned down the radio a bit.
Hello, caller, you’re on the air. She hears faintly.
Hi, Dante? The man is talking too close into his phone because his voice is muffled.
Yes, you’re on the air. What’s your name?
Brandon. I know you mentioned it last week, but our government is sending coded messages transmitted through the radio to other countries. I’ve been doing some research on this…
Ramona didn’t care too much for the nutty conspiracy theorists but at least Brandon was debunking the insane concept. She pretended she wasn’t watching the guy grab a smorgasbord of food and energy drinks cradled in his arms. She didn’t blame him either, proper nutrition was hard to come by in these parts.
The guy dumped it all on the counter and Ramona got to work. In the background, Brandon and Dante discussed coded messages.
“Hey, sweetheart,” the guy said. “What can you do about those gas prices? They’re easily double or almost triple that I’ve seen on my drive.”
Ugh, she hated when people called her “doll” if they’re old, or “sweetheart,” “honey.” She wasn’t anyone’s anything. Ramona took a deep breath in and tried not to roll her eyes as she looked up at him, but she couldn’t help it. A big eye roll and an exasperated sigh that she hoped he couldn’t hear as she scanned items.
“I’m not in charge of gas prices, the owner is. And if you don’t want gas here, you can go thirty miles back west or nineteen into Nevada,” she fed him the line her boss Nancy had told her to say.
She tapped her boots against the linoleum, and one of these days she’d remember to buy one of those stress ball things from the one stop shop in Red Rock when she was picking up groceries. She especially liked the one where the eyes pop out when she squeezed it.
The man asked for $30 on pump three. She added it to the bill and gave him the total. He grumbled that prices here were robbery as he took out his wallet and paid while she bagged up his weird concoction of a midnight dinner. Ramona kept her mouth shut as he left and turned up the radio once the doorbell rang and the door swung shut behind him.
Ramona rested her head against her arms on the counter in a fit of frustration and anger. Some days she didn’t feel fit to deal with anyone, and Abigail running through her mind was not helping anything. The counter smelled like cleaner. She needed a cigarette.
She got up and dug through her purse for her cigarettes and lighter, took the hand held radio with her outside. Stepping out from the air conditioned convenience store and into real air felt like a full body shift as her body temperature came up. The night air was cool, but not chilly. Just a notch or two below being warm, enough that it felt nice after the daytime scream of sun. Summer extended until October, or even November, but she could feel the subtle shift in the air.
Ramona sat on the ledge of the window and put her radio down next to her. She lit up her cigarette and took a drag.
She made a mistake, letting Abigail go off to college without her. Not that Ramona had even applied, but that was a different story. Abigail said she was too interested in alien conspiracy theories than work on their relationship. That she could have chosen to go to school with Abigail, study astrophysics and find them. Abigail was ready to take the jump and Ramona back peddled out of fear, she could see that much now. Abigail lost the only person who was willing to listen to her ramblings about aliens, her conspiracy hunter partner. Ramona was partially certain that Abigail liked to get to the bottom of conspiracies if only to prove that they couldn’t be true. For Abigail, everything is an equation in her mind and every equation has a solution.
If you’re just tuning in, we’re talking about debunking. Call in if you’ve been on a quest for the truth, or if you’ve had any surprises in your investigations. I know I’m not the only one who wants to know what’s real and what isn’t.
Academics never was Ramona’s thing, she never could sit still in high school physics class to learn the fundamental laws. She just wanted to learn about the possibility to space and time travel, of radio waves and how far it can go through space. Either from Earth outwards, or humans being on the receiving end of communication. It annoyed her classmates, her teacher, and embarrassed Abigail. Now she just worked at a gas station while Abigail was on her way to being a mathematician.
Ramona took a drag of her cigarette as she looked at the clear night sky. She knew there had to be something else up there, it can’t be just Earth. But when she looked outwards into the desert, all she could hope was that the desert wind would push the sand and dirt over her regret. She preferred the bigger universe with more possibilities than revisiting fuck ups she’s made on Earth. The ones that push back into her brain with anxiety.
Hi, you’re on the air with Dante. Who’s this?
Hi, Dante, big fan.
Ramona’s whole body jolted. If she hadn’t been sitting down, she would have collapsed. Her hands shook so much she dropped her cigarette on the floor. She swore as she picked up and brushed it off before putting it back in her mouth. One night when she was outside, one of her customers told her that was the real test of nicotine addiction – if you pick it back up when it falls on the floor.
What’s your name?
She took a big hit. That ash burned up real quick. She flicked off the burned part.
“Abigail...” Ramona shuddered her name like it was a freezing cold night.
Hi, Abigail. What did you debunk?
Well, my ex-girlfriend and I listen – well together, we listened – to your show every night. I’m pretty sure she still listens to you. And one night we got this crazy idea to drive down to Groom Lake to see Area 51 for ourselves.
Maybe it was from hearing Abigail’s voice, but Ramona could have sworn that she could hear her smiling in her voice.
Do you want to say hi to your ex? Or would that be too weird?
Ramona thought she was going to die. Dante was talking about her to Abigail. Live. People all over the region listened, maybe elsewhere if they picked up the channel. The line was quiet for a moment.
Hi, Ramona.
She leaned her head back, slamming it into the window. She winced and rubbed it, forgot there was glass behind her. Her hands started shaking again, so she put out her cigarette. Once was okay, but twice was too much dirt.
So you and Ramona went to Groom Lake? What did you see?
Ramona remembered that trip like it was yesterday. Abigail and Ramona had packed up into Ramona’s ten year old car, her brakes squealed. It was spring break, but for the desert, summer had pretty much already begun. Which is to say they entered the time of year where it was just warm, it all felt the same until it got really hot. They only brought a jug of water, a canister of oil and a spare tire. Ramona brought her camera and her field notes book. It was a three hour drive to Groom Lake, Nevada from their little town of Goldfields, California.
They had taken turns driving through the blistering sun. There was nothing beyond the highway for most of the trip. Just land and unforgiving nature. A few wildflowers here and there that were still blooming. But that road trip had been the day she knew with all of her heart that she loved Abigail until the end of time. There were few girls who would drive with you to Area 51. Her mom always told Ramona to keep Abigail close because she was a keeper. And she let it slip right out of her hands, like sand.
I’m sure you know that that highway as you get closer is super touristy.
Around the extraterrestrial highway sign, yep.
Yeah, Abigail said.
Ramona couldn’t tell if she remembered it fondly. It’d be too easy for her to think that Abigail remembered it that way.
Well, after that sign, there’s just lots and lots of fencing. And signs warning about trespassers. Ramona drove for that leg of the trip. Between us, I never really believed in aliens, and she did, but I wanted to see it all with my own eyes – nothing or something.
Right, Dante sounded interested. I’m assuming that since you’re calling tonight of all nights – and we’ve definitely done an alien episode recently – that you saw nothing? Not that I’m trying jumping ahead or anything…
No, no. That’s the thing. I think I saw something. I went into it ready to debunk, close this case once and for all. Ramona always watched those “alien are real” shows, where they go out to Area 51, and the one I watched with her, there was no one at the gate. I always assumed that was because they needed military approval ahead of time to film, so they just had no one engage with the TV crew. But we were in high school and when we pulled up to the gate, there were guards with guns waiting.
Ramona remembered them. They scared the crap out of her. She had rolled down the window – that’s how old her car is - and they asked what they were doing here. Another guard scanned the back seat and asked her to open the trunk.
Ramona was getting laid into by the guard for trespassing, and they were threatening us with arresting us. I guess that we weren’t the first teens with a car to come up to Area 51, especially on spring break. Small desert towns are scattered around here.
As Ramona listened to the story she had once lived, she found herself on the edge of the window ledge, lighting another cigarette. Abigail was a good storyteller, she always made you feel like you were right there in the story. Ramona had actually been there, and yet she had been certain she didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean aliens had been debunked in her mind. Besides, Abigail had seen something that didn’t waiver off her debunking, or felt it was worth calling in. Curiosity tugged at her.
I looked out past the gate – probably electrified - with the wire running on the top and there was a reflection of some kind that glimmered and it was so bright I shut my eyes. But it wasn’t like, the sun reflecting off a car or something like that. It was like, the sun reflecting off something shinier. You know those things that people use to sun tan? They’re metallic or aluminum, to absorb the sun’s rays – it was like that kind of shiny. It must have pierced my mind or something because I felt something vibrating inside my bones.
Ramona stared at the radio. She didn’t remember this. She had spent those whole few minutes of idling at the gates of Area 51 getting berated by a military guard.
And then--
Abigail cut out. The whole station cut out for what felt like a whole minute, but must have been less than thirty seconds because the station music played right up.
“Abigail?” Ramona asked, even though she couldn’t hear anything.
Well, that was strange, folks. But we’re back up and running. Must have been a satellite issue. Abigail, if you can hear this, call back. Or Ramona, if you’re listening, call in. I want to hear your side of the story.
This was Ramona’s moment. She grabbed her radio and ran back inside to the counter. She called the only number she knew. It rang once and went to a message.
Hi, you’ve reached Abigail. Leave a message.
A pair of lights flashed into the store.
--
Bio: Jessi Shakarian is a writer living in New England. You can find her on twitter at @listentomuses
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