The Only Friend a Guy Ever Needs

The car rolls through the stop sign and gradually comes to a halt in the middle of an intersection. It didn't have to stop, the town is deserted. It looks like there hasn't been anyone here for years. A pair of broken stoplights sway at the larger intersection up ahead. The engine idles. It is dark. Las Vegas, look at you now; all your blinking lights returned to the sky. There are stars everywhere. Behind an empty casino, the moon, looking like a dead disco ball, begins to rise. The man inside the car lights a cigarette, throws the match out the open window and lets his left arm hang out. Wispy sulphur whispers spread out and soften, quiet. The match head breathes red on the asphalt. The engine groans and the car cuts loose.

It growls as it darts over deserted streets. The emptiness emboldens its sound. It roars. Glass buildings shake as it passes. The air hums. Then there is something else, another sound. It seems to come from everywhere at the same time, and nowhere. It chops at the night, quickly, percussively. It is getting louder, stabbing, stalking the silence, cutting at each second until it seems to float over the car. A spotlight pierces the dark, sweeping it away like a broom. The light scours the streets, makes them pale and harsh. Dust and sand are kicked up by the helicopter's whirring blades. Old newspapers and lose garbage sputter out over the sidewalks. The speeding car turns off its lights and tries carefully to maneuver around the light, to remain hidden in the dark.

It is no good. The light easily find hims. It pursues him as the copter gets closer. Another man, in the backseat, sits up. He's drunk. He hiccups and laughs and he slaps his hand down on the driver's shoulder.

"Where are we now Benny, in Vegas?"

"Yeah," Benny says as he pulls smoke through his cigarette.

"I'll be damned! Can ya believe they found us? After all this way? God damn, you gotta give it to them."

"Yeah," Benny says.

"And just when I'd taken a nice nap. They always get you when you're having yourself a little dream, right Bennyboy?"

"Yeah."

"I was having that same one again, the one I told ya about, you remember?"

Benny doesn't respond.

"Come on, you 'member now dontcha Benny?"

"I'm a little predisposed at the moment, Doc," Benny says, throwing his cigarette out the window.

"You don't say? I see that now. Just lose 'em like you did last time," he says, hiccuping.

"Yeah."

"Where's my whiskey?"

"Now ain't the time, Doc. We're in a precarious position."

"That's a big word, precarious. A fine word. It means, before carious. D'ya know what carious means, Benny?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

Benny cuts the wheel as he yanks the emergency brake. The car spins around sharply and the doctor smashes his head off the door.

"God dammit it Benny! My head, my bleedin' head. Ohh, it's achin'."

"Sorry, Doc."

"I'm glad I wasn't sober for it. Look, there's blood all over the seat now.

"I said sorry, Doc."

"Where's my whissey? Did I ask you that already?"

The searchlight glides past them as Benny ducks the car into an enclosed parking garage. The car crashes through the wooden arm at the entrance booth and he kills the engine.

"Here," Benny says, handing the doctor his bottle.

"Oh, there she is. Reunited and it feels so, so good. She's the only friend a guy ever needs you know. And you too, Bennyboy, you too."

"What was that dream you were talking about, Doc?"