California Fire And Life

93

Jack busts the Mustang south.

Blows right past the exit to California Fire and Life, passes the exit to his condo, and shoots down to the Ortega Highway, where he turns east.

You take the Ortega east, what you're letting yourself in for is a series of downhill switchbacks that is like guaranteed to make your Labrador throw up in the backseat. You're going over the top of the mountains in the Cleveland National Forest, so you're cruising through some barren, rock-strewn hills – the "forest" – and all of a sudden you're pitching downhill toward the town of Lake Elsinore, and it's like falling off the edge of the fucking earth. Which it is, which you'd know if you've ever actually been to Lake 'Snore.

This stretch of road is not where you want to fuck up. You slip on the kozmic banana peel coming down these switchbacks you are suddenly Lost in Space, man. You are Rocky the Flying Squirrel, you are airborne. You may have your four-wheel-drive sports utility vehicle – but you can have eighteen-wheel-drive and it won't matter, if all those wheels are in the sky. What you don't have is wings, or a parachute, which is what you're going to need if you screw up the distinction between centrifugal and centripetal force on one of these curves.

Like, bikers have done space launches off this mountain and the Highway Patrol can't even find them; they're in their own little bomb craters six hundred feet below.

You lose the edge on these curves, it's just AMF.

Jack's into it.

Jack's working out his rage on the road; he and the Mustang are taking the Ortega like it's a Nebraska farm road, like What curves? We don't see no stinking curves. Jack's doing the gas, brake, shift, gas number, cranking on that wheel like he's on the bridge of the starship Enterprise.

As for Jack, well, it isn't exactly the Death Ride of Jack Wade. It's not like he's necessarily trying to kill himself, it's just that he's not trying real hard not to.

Because what's the difference? Jack's thinking.

The job's gone.

And I don't have a life outside the job.

Unless you count the daily surfing ritual at Dana Strand.

Which will be gone soon.

Into the Great Sunsets.

His adrenaline's a little jacked when he has to slow down to figure out where Letty's place is.

In the middle of nowhere.

He finally finds it about a hundred yards down a dirt road that runs between two pastures. There's a stand of trees with several buildings hidden in it and when he pulls up the sign says DEL RIO.

He sits in the car wondering why the hell he's there, decides it's for no good reason at all, and he's just about to put the 'Stang in reverse when he sees lights come on in the house.

He turns off the engine and gets out of the car.

She comes out, she's wearing a T-shirt over jeans and she's barefoot.

Hair tussled.

Stands in her gravel driveway looking at him.

Like, What are you doing here?

"It's over," he finally says. "I blew it. We lost."

She thinks about it for a few seconds, then says, "You drove out here to tell me that?"

It's a minute at least before he hears himself speak.

"I have nothing in my life."

Feels like he's standing a long way away, hearing himself say that.

She goes to him and takes him by the arm and leads him into her house.