Richard let Stanley pay for their drinks and the cheese sticks with a handful of change he fished out of his pocket. It seemed only fair, somehow.

They stepped out into the night and he glanced back toward Everest. Six radio towers blinked in the distance. He was thankful for the darkness that hid his warm face. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now we walk to that gas station over there and find a ride."

The gas station shone in the night like a castle in a dystopian fantasy. Lights blared down on the tarmac, chasing away every hint of a shadow under their glare. Even at this hour, a steady stream of cars and trucks moved in and out of the glow.

They waited for a lull in the traffic and set out across the wide highway.

"My hips are gonna be frozen stiff in the morning. My ankles are gonna swell up like a pregnant woman's," Richard complained.

Stanley clapped him on the back. "Take heart, old boy. Perhaps you'll surprise yourself with how fit you are and, even if it hurts, there is joy in the pain. When the pain stops, your life is over."

"Weirdo," Richard mumbled.

They didn't go to the islands where cars were fueling up or toward the front doors of the store. Rather, they skirted the building and approached the truck parking.

A broad-shouldered man with shoulder length curls spilling out from under his baseball cap was squatting down, checking his tire.

"Excuse me," Stanley said.

The man turned and Richard's eyes widened. Not a man, but a woman with her shirt unbuttoned far enough to show her impressive cleavage. He focused his gaze on the side of the truck so as not to be tempted to stare.

"Do for ya?" the woman said in a voice that had been sanded down by tobacco and tar.

Stanley was as courtly as ever. "Forgive the intrusion. It must seem silly to a young woman such as yourself, but my friend and I are on an adventure. We were wondering if you could give us a ride? We need to get to the storage units on M-50, just outside Adrian."

Her expression softened. Richard marveled. Was it the accent that made women love him?

"This a bucket list sorta thing?" she asked.

"Something like that," Stanley agreed.

"I respect that. Yeah. I can haul ya to Berry's. 'Taint more 'an twenty miles from here and right on my way."

"Your kindness only enhances your beauty. I can't tell you how grateful we are."

The woman actually blushed!

Richard rolled his eyes.

"Go on in the cab, then. I'll be finished up in a jiff."

"Thank you," Stanley said. His elbow bumped into Richard's side a little harder than necessary.

"What? Oh! Right." He made a face at the enormous woman. He hoped it would pass for a smile. "Yeah. Thanks. 'Preciate it."

She eyed Richard for a moment, flashed a smile at Stanley, and went around the back of the truck to do some further maintenance there.

Richard gazed up at the door. It seemed a mile high.

"Don't worry. I'll give you a boost."

"I ain't worried!" Richard declared. "And I don't need no boost from you, neither."

"You looked concerned. I just thought I would offer to help."

Richard held on to his walker with one hand and reached up with the other to grasp the handle on the door of the cab. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. The shining chrome step was just a little higher than his knee. He wrapped his left hand around the metal bar that ran alongside the door and used his right hand to grasp his thigh and lift. There! He'd done it! His foot was on the step. Pulling hard on the handle, he lifted himself from the ground and, for a moment, believed completely that he was going to make it. Then that dagblasted bad hip locked up and he was tipping backward, losing his grip on the handle. The fall would be the death of him, for sure.

Stanley's hands smacked solidly into Richard's backside and the push propelled him into the cab of the truck. He righted himself and scowled down at Stanley. "Don't touch my butt."

"I won't make a habit of it. I promise," he said, snickering.

"And don't you laugh at me!"

Stanley held his hands up in surrender. "I wouldn't dare." He folded the walker and slipped it into the space behind the big bench seat before lithely jumping up onto the step and hauling himself into the truck.

They sat, side-by-side, waiting for the woman to join them.

"Well, Dick. I'd say we're on the verge of a great adventure."

"This is crazy," Richard replied.

"Are you loving it?" Stanley asked.

Richard wasn't about to admit that he was.

~*~

Berry's Storage consisted of four long, low buildings in a row, with corn fields on three sides. The trucker, who gave her name as Trixie, pulled onto the shoulder and set the brake. The digital numbers on the dash glowed, 1:23. "Here you go, boys. Awful dark out there. Sure you're gonna be OK?"

"We'll be quite fine, thanks in large part to your generosity, Trixie. We are grateful."

She looked doubtful about the wisdom of leaving the two seniors on the side of the road in the middle of the night, but she said no more.

Stanley pushed the door open and hopped down. He retrieved the walker and set it up and then reached to offer a hand to Richard. Stubbornly, Richard braced himself with one hand on the door and one on the metal bar. He turned and slid his body down until both feet were on the step, lowered himself down and managed to hit the pavement upright. The landing hurt everywhere, but at least it didn't wound his pride. He positioned himself behind the walker and the two men watched the behemoth roll away in a rolling puff of exhaust. They stood alone in the light of the waxing moon.

Stanley put a sure hand on Richard's shoulder. "Come," he said. "I think you'll be quite pleased with what I have to show you here."

They made their way across the deserted highway, the rattle of the walker on the rough asphalt startlingly loud in the still night. Stanley entered a six digit code into the keypad next to the gate and the chain link fence clattered open. Moving slowly, to accommodate Richard's halting progress, they passed the first building and turned right. Halfway down the row of green garage doors they stopped. Stan squatted and opened the padlock on unit number seventy seven. He pushed the door upward and revealed a treasure that seemed just about priceless at that moment: a 1959 Cadillac convertible in mint condition. The red paint looked to be glowing in the darkness.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Richard whispered in awe.

"She's beautiful, don't you think?"

Richard abandoned his walker and walked next to the car running a gentle finger along the length of it with reverence. "This is your car?"

Stanley slipped his hands into his pockets. "Technically, it's Busar's."

Richard stopped with one fingertip on the red flame-like taillight. "Where is Busar?"

A shadow obscured the other man's face, making it impossible to read his expression. "He's gone."

"Killed?"

"Gone." He stepped into the garage and came around to where Richard stood. "I'd rather not discuss it right now." The silver key slid into the lock just below the Cadillac emblem and the enormous trunk popped open. A suitcase sat in the middle, slightly askew. Stanley lifted it out and set it aside, and then lifted a false bottom to reveal a hidden space beneath. A sword, three large rifles, two handguns, five daggers of different materials, and a long silver rope, and a length of iron chains were nestled in little custom spaces in a foam pad. On the far right, a silver box the size of a tackle box was tucked into a rectangular nook. He took it out, opened it, retrieved a stack of twenties from the piles of cash contained within, closed it, and tucked it back in. The false bottom was replaced, as was the suitcase. The trunk closed with a dull thud.

Stanley met Richard's eye. "I thought maybe we could sleep in the car for a few hours and then hit the road. We'll stop in a hotel tomorrow night. There are a few things I need to take care of on the way west." He tucked the money into an inner pocket of his jacket and let himself into the car.

Richard stood there, mouth gaping like a fish. Surely he'd died and this was some bizarre, unexpected version of the afterlife. Real life just couldn't be this weird.