Title: "Adversity On Gilman: Part 10 of 12"        

         Driving down the road, Matt had no idea what to do. Sure, the wind blowing in on his face felt good. But the rest he needed was for his body, not his face. He felt sick, alone, and afraid of what was happening to him. He didn't know what to do.

         He could try to get something to eat, but all desire for food had left him. He wouldn't be able to even down one slice of pizza before either throwing it back up or just simply leaving it laying, half eaten and cold.

         Sleep? The very idea was laughable. He was wired. There was no way he could slow his rapid, pulsing blood enough to enable him to relax in a night's sleep.

         He couldn't do some kind of activity to relieve his mind of it. He couldn't do anything. He was going to be a father out of wedlock and couldn't believe the very news. It scared him. He wanted to run from the fact, but no one can run from his or her thoughts. No matter what they do, the thoughts stay firm inside of them.

         Or was there a way?

         He had always heard of the one-specific method that would cure anyone's depression. Well, perhaps not cure it, but hide it deep, far away so he could cope with the feelings for just a little while longer. He had never actually been drunk, but the thought seemed like a solution that had worked for others. At that point, he was desperate for any way out of his hole.

         Matt thought back to months earlier, inside of Lucky's Bar. At that time, Matt had only wanted it for the leisure qualities that he had heard so much about. He had only been 19 at the time, though, and Lucky would never sell it to him. Perhaps, hopefully, things had changed.

         Coming to the conclusion that it was his last available source of somehow breaking free from the news, even if it would be just temporary, Matt turned back down a road. He was on his way to Lucky's Bar. He was still just 20 years old, but maybe he could talk Lucky into selling him some, if just for one night only. Matt hoped with every fiber in his body that Lucky would.

* * * * *

         "Lucky, please! You don't know how bad I could use a drink right now." Matt was stretched across the bar, looking at Lucky, the bartender and owner of Lucky's Bar. Matt's complexion had worsened. The drive had only made the depression hit him tremendously. His first stop had been Lucky's Bar, in hopes to get some kind of alcohol to help flood away the nightmare that he was living.

         Lucky felt sorry for the kid. He didn't know what it was that was troubling him so. But, Lucky knew that he felt it was his duty to uphold the law. Taking his cigar from his mouth, he said, "Matt... look, I understan' what can go through people's minds at times. I used ta' be the biggest drinker you ever would know." His southern dialect was ever so evident in his words.

         Matt raised his face from the bar and stared into Lucky's eyes. "But, I mean..."

         Although he didn't want to, Lucky cut Matt off. "But 'til you're 21, I can't sell ya any alcohol in here. It's the law. I feel a duty to uphold it." He blew out a thick cloud of cigar smoke.

         Matt raised up from the bar. He felt rejected, alone in a sea full of people. No one knew what he was going through. His only hope for some type of rest had been rejected from him.

         Matt's face was pale. His eyes were bloodshot. His chin had a slight quiver to it. Looking at Lucky, he softly said, "I understand. It's just like always, and I still have four months to go before that magical age." He stood up from the barstool. "Thanks anyway, Lucky." He grabbed Zero's keys and started walking out to the parking lot.

         Lucky had a glass in his hand, drying it. Seeing Matt get up and walk out, he stopped him by saying, "Matt... hang in thar, buddy. You'll pull you'self out." He didn't know the details of why Matt was in the shape he was, but he knew that the answer Matt was looking for was something he didn't need at the moment. "Alcohol isn't always the solution. But I think you will do the right thing," added Lucky.

         Matt stopped, listening to what Lucky told him. As Lucky finished his message, Matt lowered his head. "Thanks, Lucky. I'll see you around. 'MosDefnit'ly in four months." He nodded to Lucky.

         Lucky wanted to say something to him, but decided against it. He felt that maybe he had already said too much, possibly dragging the boy down further than he already was. So instead, a simple nod was his goodbye to Matt.

         Matt turned and walked out of Lucky's Bar.

* * * * *

         "Alright man, they said they were completely out of Vodka 100 for the night, but they did have the Ice 101." A man, looking to be in his mid-twenties, stood at the Blazer window and handed the bottle of alcohol and the extra change in to Matt.

         After leaving Lucky's Bar, Matt had went from convenience store to grocery store; department store to shopping center... anywhere where he could find someone old enough to purchase him some alcohol. He had to have something to help him through the night. He had finally found someone willing. It had been at a convenience store on very outskirts of Berkeley.

         Matt took the bottle and placed it on the passenger seat of the Blazer. As it received the twenty-five dollars in change, he refused. He told the man to keep it.

         "Are you sure, man? You don't look too well. You could probably use it." The man obviously seemed slightly worried about the state that Matt's face was in. "Here, you keep your money."

         "No, you can have it. You're the first person I've found in the past two hours who would help me out." Matt looked back to the bottle of alcohol, then over to the man standing outside of the driver's side window. "I thank you, man. Some shit has gone down tonight. Just needed something to help me get through the night so I can wake up tomorrow, able to come to better terms with what has happened."

         The man didn't want to get too in-depth on what it could be. He took the change, although with plenty of questioning beforehand. "Ok man... just be sure to get somewhere so you can lay down before you start drinking on that stuff. Too much drinking of it and it could tear you up. Doesn't take much."

         " I will. I promise. I'll go back to my apartment and wind down with it." Matt nodded his head at the man.

         The man nodded back to him. "Ok man, you take care. Don't get yourself into too much trouble. And whatever it is that is troubling you... I'm sure you'll pull through." He patted the door of the Blazer.

         "If we meet again," said Matt, as he rolled up the window to the Blazer and pulled out of the store's parking lot.

         But he did not go straight back to his apartment. He didn't know whether or not Zero and Erica would be waiting for him there. He wondered if they would protest his drinking at the apartment. Literally, they couldn't do anything about it. But they could mentally make him put it down and away. That was something that he did not want to have to run into. And so, he drove on, making idle loops around the town. He was trying to clear his mind.

         He looked over at the bottle, untouched and still in the bag.

         He considered opening it and maybe taking a small sip. It might help sooth him. But inside of his head, he told himself not to.

         He drove on for ten more minutes. The whole time, his eyes kept glancing back to the bottle.

         After ten more minutes of midnight driving down empty streets, his will power gave out. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over and grabbed the bottle with his other hand. With a twist, the top of it was off. He put his lips to it and took a small sip. The thick, burning sensation caused his eyes to water. It collided with everything inside of his stomach. But at the same time, it seemed like some sort of a relief from everything else.

         Just one more sip, he told himself, and he'd put it away. He still needed to eventually get back to his apartment. There would be a lot going on the next day and he would need some rest.

         The thought of what the next day would bring swelled up inside of his head. He took another sip to fight those thoughts back down.

* * * * *

         An hour later and Matt was still on the road. His will had broken down. He had taken another sip, but then another. He had kept going back for the fountain of peace. He didn't realize how much he had drunk.

         His head was starting to spin. He found himself loosing contact with the road and slipping over the shoulder. His foot was getting heavier. He didn't realize how fast he was going down the small roads and dark streets.

         Zero's Blazer wasn't made for speeds of around 80 to 90 miles an hour. It was killing the engine as Matt unknowingly pushed it harder and harder.

         The bottle was positioned firmly in his hand as Matt repeatedly kept taking the small sips, vowing that each would be his last. He kept telling himself that he needed to get back to his apartment, but he didn't even know where he was by then.

         He was actually on Christie Road, a road inside of Berkeley. A set of train tracks rested on it. Matt was less than a mile away from them.

         He didn't realize that fact, as he was busy fiddling with the top of the bottle. He had to get the dancing lid back on, for he told himself that was enough. His five small sips had been more than enough for the night. Obviously... he had lost track with the numbers.

         Earlier in the day, someone's tire had blown out In front of the train tracks. The large, rubber particles still laid in front of the tracks, oblivious to anyone wanting to clear the road and remove them.

         Matt finally got the top back onto the bottle. He leaned over in his seat and tried to get the bottle back into the bag. Mentally, he was telling himself that he had to get the bottle back in before Zero saw it. Perhaps Zero wouldn't look in a paper bag that sat in his passenger seat. Matt didn't know. He was drunk. He couldn't think clear and straight.

         As he finally got it all situated in what he thought to be a good, "out of the way" spot on the seat, his head came back up to see the road. Straight in front of him, he saw the train tracks. More importantly, he saw all of the rubber remains from the tire. His eyes opened large as a moment of sobriety quickly rushed through him.

         He cut the wheel to avoid them, but he had overreacted to the direction. The tires of the vehicles executed a 45-degree twist, causing him to go sideways at 85 miles an hour. It was then that the Blazer hit the train tracks, launching the vehicle into the air.

         The Blazer crashed onto its side, smashing the passenger side door in. It rolled, finishing out the compacting. Glass shattered. Metal pounded.

         Then it violently rolled again.

         It skidded and rolled until the momentum could break the miles per hour that it had on it at the launch of the vehicle. The landscape in the way of the incoming vehicle had been destroyed. And the vehicle... it was destroyed, too.

* * * * *

         At 3:30 AM, Zero was woken with a knock at his door. Throwing on a pair of shorts, he walked through his living room, shirtless and with his piercings still intact. He concluded that it was probably just Matt, coming back by to give him his keys. He just wished that Matt had slid them under the door or something.

         Opening the door, though, Zero was instead faced by two police officers. Their eyes opened wide, seeing this man before them. Tattoos ran down Zero's right arm and across his upper back region. His face was adorned in various piercings. His hair was just a rambled array of loose ends from having slept on the hair gel.

         They had hardly expected someone like that. But they had to proceed with their message that they had to deliver. The shorter, skinnier of the two stepped forward and addressed Zero. "Are you Lint Douglas, owner of a 1991 model Chevrolet Blazer? It's license plate reads 516-716."

         Zero took a step back. His face tore into the two officers. Why were they coming by at 3:30 in the morning, telling him what kind of vehicle he had? And where was Matt? Zero's head began to spin from not knowing what the reasons were for this visit. "Yes, I am," he said, rather abruptly. "Why do you want to know?" Zero leaned further into the doorway. He felt sweat forming on his forehead. He could feel the beginning of a headache under that sweat.

         The taller, stockier of the two officers looked down at his paperwork that he held in his hand. Looking back up to Zero, he slowly told him, "We traced the license plate number back to you. We have reason to believe that it might have been stolen, only that..."

         Zero cut him off with hope that a relief was coming from the obvious misunderstanding. "No. No, it wasn't. I let a neighbor borrow it for a drive tonight..."

         The same officer broke back in, completing what he was telling Zero. "...Only that it was found alongside Christie Road tonight, almost unrecognizable through the damage that it had sustained."

         Zero was speechless. He could only stand in front of the officers and look at them. The thoughts running through his head were too much to calculate in mere discussion. The greatest fear, though, was not in what condition his vehicle had wound up.

         He did not want to ask. He did not want to know. But he could feel his mouth muscles moving, greater than his own control of them. "Was there..." he didn't want to continue. He knew that Matt had been driving. "...Any..." He chest burst into a terrible cough, fighting off the thought of realizing what his mind wanted to know. "...People" was the word that came through his coughs.

         The officers looked at one another, not exactly sure how to respond. They knew the answer, but it was always a tough position to be in for them, no matter how many times they had done it before. The shorter one, after a long look at his colleague, spoke up. "There was one body found." He sympathetically looked towards Zero.

         Zero's coughs ceased. He regained his composure and took a deep breath, holding it for just a moment. He finally exhaled as he once again spoke. "In what condition was he found?" He said it in a large monotone, his eyes and face showing a perfect poker bluff of no movement.

         The taller one replied, "He was found dead at the scene. Broken..."

         Zero raised his hand towards the men. "No... I don't want details. I don't want the images in my head." He lowered his hand and took another deep breath. "His name was Matt Lee. He lived in Apartment #7 of these apartments." Zero thought back to the conversation they, along with Erica, had had just hours earlier. "He had just found out tonight that he was going to be a father." The thought of having to tell Erica was something that hit his chest the hardest. He feared her reaction to how it would be. She had cared so much for him. She didn't want him to be hurt in any way.

         He was going to be a father. That situation was always the worst. The police officers felt a terrible lump inside of their chests. It was common procedure to have these visits. But knowing the circumstances under which somebody died with was always a hard pill to swallow.

         The shorter officer stepped forward. "I'm sorry about this. It's a terrible tragedy." They both had decided, without speaking, that the reference to the alcohol bottle, and the alcohol itself, would be left for the paperwork afterwards, instead of going into further detail at this moment. It could possibly only compound the sudden news and make it worse. A gradual telling would probably be for the better, when the accounts were presented in detail.

         Zero only stood in the doorway. He had put up an emotional block, constraining himself from any dramatic and visible display of the grief that was going through every inch of his body.

         He looked to the officers who had offered their condolences about the situations. It was a nice thought. He knew he couldn't hold them to blame for anything. They had done nothing but be the bearer of bad news.

         Actually, he didn't know if he could hold anyone other than himself to blame for it. He had been the one to give his keys to Matt. The images of the transition of the keys flashed through his mind. He felt responsible for it. He knew he was the reason Mat was dead.

         He... and Erica... would find out the exact details later. He dreaded having to tell her the situation. But once everything came down, he knew that the paperwork for everyone was going to be a headache. Everyone would get the full scoop at that point.

         But at that moment, all that was going through his head was the fact that... Matt was dead.