to crawl into bed where he wondered what the hell he was going to do with no car.
The next morning, Hank showered again, wiped everything down again, dressed, sat on the edge of the bed and got the quarter-inch thick phone book from the drawer of the nightstand. He flipped it open to find that there weren’t even any ads for any car rental companies. He’d forgotten the paperwork in the glove compartment and he had to dial information to get the number for Hertz. Hank put the phonebook back in the drawer, aligning its edges in perfect parallel with the sides of the drawer, and closed it slowly so the book wouldn’t shift. He fidgeted with the phone while he waited to be connected. The lamp was screwed to the nightstand slightly off center and the phone couldn’t sit square with the edge of the nightstand. Hank found it disturbing and cracked his knuckles while he listened to the muzak in the earpiece, trying to forget about the phone’s oddly angular placement next to the lamp.
Finally, a lady came on and asked if she could help him.
“Uh, yeah, I got in a wreck in one of your cars and I need to get a replacement right away.”
This only seemed to confuse the Hertz woman. The fact that he didn’t have his reservation number didn’t help either. After a minute of listening to her type on the other end, the lady came back on the phone.
“We can send a service vehicle out this afternoon.”
“I don’t think you understand. This ain’t a flat tire, the car is wrecked. I need someone to drive a replacement car out here to me.”
“You mean the car is not driveable?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“What happened?”
“I hit a wild animal.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Jesus Christ, lady, are you kidding me with this?”
“Sir, unless you cease swearing at me, I will terminate this call.”
“What the fuck did I say? Look. I’m out in the middle of the desert without a car. That’s not good. The car I rented from you was in an accident and does not work. I paid for the insurance, the car is covered, and now I need a new car and I need someone to drive it out here. What’s hard about that?”
The conversation burned through twenty more minutes and two managers and Hank hung up, unsure if anything was going to be done about the car. He walked across the parking lot to the gas station, bought a cup of coffee and a doughnut, and tried to come up with Plan B.
Hank stood in the gas station parking lot and stared off toward the edge of town, which was all of a few hundred feet away. Beyond the last low building was a vast expanse of open terrain spreading itself below a wide and glowing sky. He had to have a car. There was no two ways about it. He picked up a small flyer full of local classified ads, thinking he might just buy another one. The folks at Hertz could figure things out whenever they decided to pull their heads out of their asses. He had work to do.
Back in his room, Hank flipped through the ads, unable to focus, and then decided to turn his attention to the business of the day. He got the large yellow envelope out from the bottom of his bag. It was thin and unopened. Hank always made it a point to never open the envelope until he got where he was going, that way he really wouldn’t know anything ahead of time. Plausible deniability could come in handy some day.
He sat back at the table and set his coffee on top of the wall-mounted air conditioner to avoid spills. He ensured the door was locked and the shades were drawn tight. He even went into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain—it was impossible to be too careful. Then, noticing a small puddle of water he’d missed after his shower, Hank took a hand towel from the rack above the toilet, wiped up the puddle, and then carefully refolded the towel and placed it neatly and squarely atop the stack of the other used towels. Then he readjusted the positioning of the entire stack, moving it back an inch and a half from the edge of the counter so it was centered on the small ledge. Hank paused in front of the mirror and rubbed his chin, looking himself in the eyes. He