Five: Pod Stop

The Zizzzard family Electra 225 got abysmal mileage but it did have a massive fuel tank so Nichelle didn't stop at a filling station until just outside Champaign, Illinois. She collected cash from everyone but Tottchell, who could not be awakened and whose wallet could not be located. Nichelle and Jim agreed that Tott and the now awake but slightly groggy Elmer could probably be induced to drive the rest of the way while they took their turn at resting, but Elmer struggled to see after dark and nobody trusted Tott's navigational abilities.

"We may have to settle for a pod somewhere," Nichelle said, "If we can afford four of them."

"Elmer's got money," said Jim. "The trick is to get him to part with it. I've got about seventy dollars myself."

"I think I have a hundred and some. I halfway planned this."

"Four pods should be easy for tonight. We just have to be conscious of the fact that the longer we're gone, the bigger concern money will be."

Pods functioned as low cost alternatives to hotel. They were not particularly warm or comfortable, but for a few dollars an hour, an individual could squeeze into a tube with an air mattress and a plastic cushion and get some much-needed sleep. Customers had to pay upfront to a mechanized cashier, which spat out an access card for the pod.

Early nightfall made it seem later than it was. They had only been on the road four and a half hours, almost half that time spent during the traffic delay that occurred when Tott was driving, but Nichelle felt she had been driving for days. She exited Interstate 74 and made a beeline for Goofy Ridge on Highway 136. There was no point in driving another hour to the oddly monikered hamlet since nothing would be happening there this time of night. She stopped at a unit of pods in Heyworth, another small community on the Illinois prairie. She roused her male companions, including Jim, who had finally succumbed to fatigue a few minutes earlier, and advised them of her plan.

"I hate pods," said Tott, "You guys know that."

"Nobody loves pods," said Elmer, "but it's the cheapest way to get some sleep on the road."

"They're too cold," Tott complained.

"Colder than sleeping in the car?" Nichelle demanded.

Nichelle understood Tott's bad grace and was surprised neither Jim nor Elmer had renewed their own sour spirits. She had been the only one truly interested in undertaking the journey and had coerced the others through obligation and guilt. Still, Jim now appeared engaged in the endeavor and Elmer seemed, at the very least, resigned to it. But unlike Tott, nothing important to them was at stake. The car was an old heap, but it belonged to Tott's father and Nichelle had not considered the sacrifices her friends had to make. She had rationalized this by insisting to herself how important this mission was, a way to dispose of the tangible hubris. Which would result in what? Sure, it would be preferable to seeing the stuff lying around everywhere, but a bigger trick than discarding it was preventing it from killing people in the first place. And that would require far more than a road trip to Goofy Ridge.

All four got out and Jim and Nichelle combined their financial resources to purchase pods for each of them, asking nothing of Elmer or Tott. Elmer, though, would be expected to pony up eventually and in such a way that would probably make him wish he had sprung for the pods.