Heaven
YEAR: 2012
A Toyota pulled to a stop in front of a gas station between Point A and Point B. It stopped just long enough for Heaven to grab the duffel bag containing all of her earthly possessions and get out of the car. Figures, she thought with a shake of the head.
She pulled the beanie down over her ears, a cheap winter hat she picked up at the last gas station she was dumped at, and watched the Toyota disappear. The sign on the side of the road read: Des Moines - 50 Miles. Thoroughly frozen by a passing breeze, she pulled her windbreaker together and zipped it up, hoping to fend off some of the winter cold. It wasn’t enough, though, with how cold winter was this year as they headed into December, and it just got colder the farther north she went. Got to just keeping moving.
Heaven pulled out a crinkled 4x6 of a middle-aged man posing in front of Mount Rushmore. Somewhat tacky, she would admit, but it meant freedom to her. Freedom. Something these people in their foreign cars, wrapped up in their mundane lives, knew little about. Carefully, she slipped the picture back into her pants pocket.
Qwik Stop. Another tacky name for a place that meant you can get (almost) everything here. Hefting the duffel bag over her shoulder, Heaven trod past the pumps to the gas station entrance. One man finished filling his Honda, hung up the pump, and drove off. Other than that the place seemed pretty empty, just a small town and a refuel between here and there. The bell on the door jangled as she entered.
Heaven turned her jacket pocket inside out and examined the money in her hand. Not much left, just a few bills and a few small coins. Her stomach rumbled, encouraging her to put her last bit of cash towards food, but she didn’t have enough to go all the way. There was no way she was going back now, though.
Walking slowly towards the back of the store, Heaven took stock of the situation. The attendant stood on a chair behind the counter near the exit, refueling their cigarette stash, or something equally as boring. She felt her heart beat a bit faster as she neared the coolers in the back. Propping the cooler door open, with one hand she grabbed an egg salad sandwich and with the other hand she slipped a small carton of chocolate milk into the front pouch of her bag.
She held back a yelp as the bell on the door jarred her concentration. She stole a glance back as another man — burly, hairy, and wearing a black leather jacket — entered the Qwik Stop. Must have been a biker, she figured. The attendant greeted him and a tingle went down her arms as her adrenaline level went up.
Heaven waited as the biker ducked into the bakery cabinet for a few donuts, then she swiped several meat sticks from a nearby display and stuck them in the pocket of her windbreaker. She checked on the attendant at the register; he didn’t seem to notice her. Her heart jumped again — the kind of thrill that one could get addicted to — and she grabbed a bag of cookies to hide behind her belt.
She walked down the aisle, slowly now, afraid of raising suspicion. “Hey,” she said when she reached the counter, tossing the sandwich down.
The attendant — she looked at his name tag; Larry — grabbed the sandwich and scanned it. “3.25,” he said flatly. Heaven tossed some money on the counter and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the change. The biker came up behind her and dropped his donuts on the counter.
Heaven mumbled a quick “thanks” and walked out the door, the two behind her chatting about yesterday’s football game. She leaned against the store’s window and listened to the hum of the motorcycle engine as she breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem to matter whether it was brand name jeans or a bit of food, the anxiety, and the thrill, was the same.
The hum of the motorcycle engine. A Boss Hoss, ZZ4 bike with a V8 Chevrolet engine and a long orange flame on the side. She smiled. The keys were still hanging in the dash. It didn’t take more than that split second for her to realize that this was her ticket to the Minnesota Twin Cities. The anxiety, and the thrill, spiked again.
She climbed on top, keeping an eye on the door. The owner lingered inside, laughing with the attendant. She looked down at her feet. “Come on, Heaven.” She had to have seen this done a hundred times on TV, right? Kicking up the stand, she put her weight down on the clutch with her right foot, twisted the handle, and the Boss took off. The bike twisted and quickly fell on its side, pitching Heaven onto the pavement.
She looked up, eyes wide in fear. The biker knew there was a problem now. He was out the door as soon as Heaven had the bike back up, but by then it was too late. She throttled up and took off.
Heaven cheered and the tires screeched as she peeled out of the station’s lot, fist held high in triumph. When the gas station sat in her rear view mirrors she took the time to look back at a very angry man, rage red and screaming epithets. Heaven laughed, the anxiety gone now, replaced by a kind of high.
The sign read “Des Moines - 50 Miles,” but she now had her ticket all the way to Mount Rushmore.
***
Heaven carefully carried a tray of poker chips in various colors through the casino. They were small denominations, of course, the last of her food and travel money, and she had to use a fake ID to get in. She had a foster brother once, Jake, who had an acute interest in different forms of gambling, one of the few nice memories of foster care. But he never let her come out gambling with him, however much she asked.
Blackjack, Poker, Texas Hold-Em. All card games. “Don’t bother with the slots or Roulette,” he had told her, as if he was an expert at the casino, and maybe he was. “Those are silly games of chance. You’ve got no control. Stick to cards.” There was still chance in cards, but there was also strategy. And then there were tricks.
Heaven slipped her ID away and headed for the Black Jack table. Today I am Juliet Foster, 18 and playing at the casino for seven months now, she thought, head held high. She took a seat at the end of a blackjack table and plopped down a one dollar ante.
“You have to keep track,” Jake’s voice echoed in her mind. He had trained her for this. He’d spend his nights and weekends at the casino — their foster dad certainly didn’t care; he just wanted the monthly check — and then come back and teach her the tricks of the trade. “At the beginning, hold back. Everything is a mystery. The chance for getting any particular card is the same. But as the game goes on, you’ll know more about what’s coming.”
She glanced nervously at the guy on her right: 40-something, average height, brown hair, and glasses. Harmless. A nice guy, even. “What’s your name?” she asked as the dealer tossed out the first set of cards. One down, one up. She got a nine of hearts.
“Joe,” he said. “You?”
“Just Joe?”
He smiled, peaking at his face down card. He looked at her over his reading glasses. “Hit,” he called. “Yep, just Joe.”
“Miss?”
“Huh?”
“The dealer is asking if you want another card,” Joe explained.
“Oh, I’m good,” she said, after taking a brief glance at her card. “My name’s Juliet,” she told Joe.
“Pretty name. Nice to meet you.”
“Can you teach me how to play?” A smile, a flip of her golden curls, and a flutter of her eyelashes and he was under her spell. She’d seen it before with guys when a pretty girl looked their way. He would now hit when she needed him to hit, or stay when she needed the card.
In a few hours, and a couple other tables and a couple other guys, Heaven had turned her few dollars into ten thousand. She had been playing cards for a long time at her foster homes, but wasn’t sure so much about the casinos. When people counted cards in movies, not to mention get in with a fake ID, casino security only ever came just when the plot demanded. But when did they come in real life?
She decided not to chance it and gathered up her chips to cash out. As she wound back through the casino, on a whim, she flipped a hundred dollar chip into the glass of a guy at the slots. Free money felt sooo good.
Heaven grabbed her duffel bag from the lockers before heading to the cashier station. “How much do we have?” the cashier asked in a grating tone when Heaven set her tray down. She tapped her foot impatiently and scanned the casino for security. “Looks like ten thousand. You certainly played well tonight. I’ll have to get this from the safe.”
She heard a scream and some commotion from behind and she twisted her neck to look. A tall Latino woman squeezed her man in glee; he had just proposed. On the other end of the spectrum, an older man cursed loudly as he backed away from the roulette table, losing his bet once again.
“Here we are,” the cashier said, coming back with the money. Heaven had to stop herself from jumping. At that moment she caught sight of two hefty men in black suits fighting through the crowd towards the cashier station. Definitely towards her, she noticed as she met their stare.
“Right. That looks right. Thanks,” she said quickly, grabbing the money and stuffing it in her bag. They’re too late, she thought as she rushed out of the casino.
She heard the cashier behind her calling out about leaving her ID, but she ignored her. Let them have it; she needed her freedom.
THE EVENT
Heaven gunned it as soon as she left the casino parking lot. In seconds she was on the Interstate and back in the open air. Not far down the line she noticed the cherries light up in her mirror and she wasn’t sure whether the cops were coming for her, so she pulled off at the first exit and coasted into the suburbs.
Heaven rolled the motorcycle to a stop at an intersection. It might be best after all, she figured. It was already dark and despite bringing her warmest coat, a windbreaker which seemed to do anything but, she was shivering.
The snowfall wasn’t too heavy yet this year, though the white fluff coated the edges of the roads at least down to the Iowa border. It was beautiful, the trees lined with fresh white snow. If only it didn’t have to be so cold. But she’d take the cold over the place she came from.
The sign read: Mapiya, population 14,500. Southern St. Paul suburb. She scanned the buildings and street signs for an open — and dare she hope, cheap — hotel at this time of night. Heaven noticed a gas station up the hill a block ahead. Hopefully someone there could give her directions.
She pushed down on the clutch and started the bike back up when everything changed. The night sky flooded with bright blue afternoon light, blinding her. Heaven covered her eyes when she felt an instant blast of summer heat, practically burning her skin it felt so hot compared to the winter air.
The change came so suddenly she felt sick. A moment ago she was shivering from the winter, and now she was getting goose bumps from the hard rush of hot air. Her eyes were just beginning to adjust when she heard the sound of a freight train in the sky. Heaven opened her eyes and looked up.
The sky that was empty just a moment ago was rushing in with dark clouds, swirling just above her, it seemed. Such a fearful sight, but it felt so surreal that she just sat there and watched. Thick clouds turning, spinning, reaching down from the sky. Heaven grew up in Missouri, around tornadoes her whole life, so she knew what it meant; it was a wall cloud, forming into a tornado, but this was the first time she had seen one form right in front of her like this. Staring at the forming tornado, for a moment she almost forgot that night had instantly fled. Mesmerizing.
“Hey!” Someone crashed out of a building on her left. “Hey, you on the bike,” he called out to her, but Heaven ignored him, shock setting in. The clouds reached lower, the tornado forming together now, almost to a point. The man ran up and jerked her off the bike, pulling her out of shock. The bike fell hard on its side. She ran with him back to the building to stand just inside the doorway and watch the tornado come.
As the tornado stretched to the ground it turned north, railing loudly on them now. The tornado touched down, it looked like, just north of there, over a hill. Another man, coming up a stairway behind them, shoved them aside as he ran out of the building, holding a phone to his ear. Standing in the middle of the street he finally noticed the tornado and brought his hands down, staring up in awe.
“Can I use your bike?” the man beside her asked, his eyes wild in desperation. She noticed he was younger, maybe her age, and dressed a bit strangely.
“What?”
“I’m parked up north, past the bridge. I need to...” He looked up at the tornado again as it tossed debris in the air. “I need to follow that.”
“Sure. Come on.” They ran out to her motorcycle, picked it up off the ground, and she handed him a spare helmet. “Just promise not to fall in love with me.”
He blushed, caught off guard. “Isn’t that what girls might say when they like a guy?”
Heaven shrugged. “What can I say? You’re cute.”