As Always

This story was written as an entry in the 2020 NYCMidnight Short Story Contest. I had one week to write a <2,500 word story with the following prompts:

Genre = Drama // Subject = Contagious // Character = Taxi Cab Driver

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Tad turns the steering wheel with calculated precision as his taxi rounds the corner off Main onto Third. A stray dog runs out in front of him and he slams on the brakes, earning a screech of rubber on asphalt. The dog looks at him briefly before trotting off between two buildings. Clueless mutt. The strays are really becoming a problem. This is the third one he’s almost hit in the same number of days.

He analyzes the GPS map on his dashboard, searching for fares. There are none. There are never any these days. He scans the streets. Maybe he’ll see someone trying to flag him down like the old days. It won’t happen, but he enjoys simply looking out into the city, even if it is quiet.

There used to be a time when the quiet unsettled him. He wasn’t sure why, but something inside him had always been drawn towards activity and liveliness. When there was a big event at the arena or convention center he would be the first taxi there. He typically worked in the morning or afternoon and took nights to recharge, but on those days—those glorious concerts or basketball games or baseball games—those were when he thrived. 

Events don’t happen anymore. He misses the groups of young women who would get in, giggling and laughing. He misses the men who would stumble to his door cheering for their team after winning a game. Back then he had been immune to it, simply picking up, dropping off, and moving on… but now, after decades of just doing his job, he wishes he could laugh and cheer like them.

The world is not the same as it was before.

Tad eyes the clock. 8:59 AM. He tunes into the radio, anxious to catch the Breaking News segment. Maybe it will be different this time.

The radio scratches for a moment, then the signal clears, yet still muffled through a faint wall of static.

“I’m your host, Wendy Wonderland on WRTL, and here is your Breaking News! What the CDC is now calling the Super Black Plague has just become the most deadly pandemic in history. In the past 48-hours the disease has spread faster than anticipated…”

He quickly scans the other stations. 

“…originating in the forests of Brazil…”

“…scientists are working diligently on a cure…”

“…precautions. Face masks, hand washing…”

“…it’s estimated that 92% of the population…”

“…airports closing across the world…”

They are all the same.

He tunes to a station that he knows won’t be on news.

“…Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down…”

Good old Rick. He much prefers this to the hysteria surrounding the pandemic.

Tad looks around the streets, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. This is usually the time she arrives, but there is nothing in sight besides parked cars and abandoned storefronts. Several neglected bodies litter the sidewalks.

He remembers that day. Rewinding to it in his memory, Tad feels a hint of what must be guilt. Guilt for continuing on while others perished. Guilt for locking his doors as people pleaded for help, terror clear in their eyes. He remembers the countless hands pressed against his windows as he drove through the city at the end of his shift. And the next day, seeing those same people lying on the ground, some still coughing through their last breaths. Most already gone.

Why did he deserve to stay?

A honk brings him back to the present as another taxicab pulls up beside him. She looks at him with bright eyes, a giant smile on her face. His only friend—if you could call her that. They never speak. They never even exit their vehicles. They only drive. But they are always there for one another and he figures that’s what friends are for.

She revs her engine, then tires squeal as she shifts into drive and accelerates down the street. He immediately follows, his engine echoing hers, bouncing off skyscrapers. They are the only sounds in the city. They race through the crumbling billboards of Times Square, peel off Broadway past the long-boarded up theaters, and speed off towards the outer parts of the city.

It continues on for hours like an intricate dance, their daily routine. He secretly wishes they could do more. He imagines what the feeling would be like if they touched hands. Ecstasy? Fear? Uncertainty? He doesn’t have the courage anyway. All they ever do is drive. That’s all they’re supposed to do.

She comes to a halt in front of him on what’s left of the George Washington Bridge over the Hudson River. The bridge must have collapsed overnight. Just the day before they had driven over it out to the spot where they watch the sunset together. 

It isn’t going to happen today. The sun is already low in the sky. By the time they make it across by another road the sunset will be over. He is more upset than he expects. They have never missed a sunset at their place—not once in three years. Even when it was cloudy, they still drove there and sat in silence, watching the sky. But there is nothing he can do. He has to be back before 9:00 PM.

Tad puts his taxi in reverse and retraces his route back into the city. She follows part of the way, but eventually turns off on her own. By 8:23 PM he is back to his usual parking garage. There is no need to stay out any later. He closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him away.

He wakes the next morning refreshed and recharged. The collapsed bridge is still bothering him, but he tries to push it away by plotting out a new route to their spot in his head. It will take 13 minutes longer through the Lincoln Tunnel, but it is the next best option. He will have to show her the way later today.

He drives his taxi out of the garage and into the morning light. He travels down the same roads as always, receives no fares as always, and accomplishes nothing as always. 

Yet the bridge is gone. That is not as it always is. That is new and different, even if disheartening.

The clock turns to 8:59 AM and Tad tunes into the radio as always.

“I’m your host, Wendy Wonderland on WRTL, and here is your Breaking News! What the CDC is now calling the Super Black Plague has just become the most deadly pandemic in history. In the past 48-hours the disease has spread faster than anticipated…”

It repeats the same recorded loop as always. He scans to the other stations AS ALWAYS. 

“…originating in the forests of Brazil…”

“…scientists are working diligently on a cure…”

Then he stops. 

He turns off the radio.

Why does he have to do what he always did? The world is changing. The bridge is gone. Nothing is stopping him anymore, yet at the same time everything is—like strings tugging at his arms and legs, holding him in place. There are too many unknowns. What would happen if he were to do something else? Something new?

Perhaps if he wasn’t alone… Would it be easier then? There’s only one who could even try with him. Would she be willing to take the leap?

Tad waits the rest of the day at their usual meeting spot, afraid that otherwise he might miss her. Eventually, she pulls up alongside with a honk and looks over at him the same way she always does.

This time will be different though. 

He floors the gas pedal and speeds off in front of her, glancing behind to make sure she follows. She doesn’t. The taxi stands still. He has a sinking feeling inside and slams on the brakes.

Slowly, she catches up and pulls next to him again. She looks over with that grin and accelerates. Tad relents his lead and follows behind her as always, unsure where they are headed.

Eventually he recognizes the street names and the patterns. It is the exact same route he had planned to take them. He would smile if he could, but that motion doesn’t exist in his cheeks. Even if it did, he isn’t sure he actually wants it after everything that has happened in the world. He isn’t sure he truly deserves that emotion any more than those who are gone.

They drive away from the city and out into the countryside. Finally, they slow and make their way up a small hill. Trees line the sides of the road and large patches of overgrown grass stretch their tendrils over the pavement. A few small animals scurry about.

Tad opens the windows. He has never opened the windows before. Birds chirp their evening songs and a gust of cool breeze washes over him. It is different. It is good.

They park their taxis at the top of the hill. The entire city is visible in the distance with the sun low in the sky above it. Beautiful colors are already welcoming the sun to the horizon.

If he is going to do it, this is the time. 

He opens the door. He has never opened the door before.

His joints creak as he adjusts his position. It feels like forever to accomplish, but he eventually stands.

His taxi sits next to him. Unattached. He has never felt such freedom. He places a thankful hand on the roof of the car, running his fingers over the solar grid that has kept him going all these years. All these decades.

He looks over at her. She watches him with that same glow in her eyes and grin on her lips. As always.

He takes rickety, uncoordinated steps. It isn’t something he’s well programmed to do, but he had seen others do it in the past and tries to mimic that. 

One step, then the next. Each feels like a mile.

He reaches her taxi. In the back seat is something he had never been close enough to see. Two skeletons lay, hugging one another tight. Their souls are lost forever, yet together eternally.

Tad opens the door and helps her out. She moves much more gracefully than he did.

He looks down at the jacket she wears, the words Transportation Android Driver written in stylized font across the chest, mimicking his own. They won’t need them anymore. He strips his jacket off and tosses it to the ground. She follows suit.

He takes her hand and they walk to the crest of the hill. Orange, purple, and red wisps fill the sky creating a silhouette of the city below. They stand, watching the sunset.

As always.

“What do we do now?” She asks.

T.A.D. smiles. “Anything.”

(c) Kade Kessler 2020

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