I Wish You Well

Snopes and Tossi, ages 42 and 24 respectively, deliverymen in transit, cargo onboard. They've made three out of five stops on Roe Springs Water Co. transportation/service crew, number16's Thursday route. With a long road ahead, a shortcut sounds like a bright idea. Soon, they're to find themselves off course, on a byway off the beaten path, headed for a temporary detour they'd rather forget.

"We've got a new stop today, right?"

"Yeah. Let's try a shortcut, make this right turn coming up."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get lost, we'll be home late enough as it is," replies Tossi, a young man, medium build but far from a physical specimen.

"Trust me, I know my way around. Comes as a perk of getting old, when you're around long enough, you get good with directions," explains Snopes, sitting in the passenger's seat. He has a body suited for a deliveryman, tall with a weightlifter's bulky torso. "I used to work with Edelman, that guy was the worst with directions. He was always second guessing me, drove me nuts."

"Yeah, everyone seems to hate that guy. He doesn't seem that bad to me."

"Are you kidding? You've never had to work with him for a prolonged period."

"What's so bad about him, anyway?"

"Ask anyone. Everyone's had a problem with him at one point. People like him are always causing trouble."

"I like to take people on their actions and not just go by what everyone is saying," Tossi disagrees.

"You'll see it for yourself. Just give it time. Let me tell you a funny story. One day, a while back, Edelman was really ticking me off. We were arguing about something stupid. Just like Edelman, he couldn't let it go. Keeps disagreeing, yap, yap, yap. So, we finish up a job, a first-time full service, a pretty big set up, took a bunch of work. When we're done, the lady customer hands me two fifty-dollar bills, meant to split with Edelman as a tip, but, I was like 'you want to get on my nerves, I'll teach you a lesson.' So when he asked about a tip, I handed him a folded dollar bill I had in my pocket. He was ticked. He cursed that lady all the way home. It was classic." He chuckles with delight in remembrance.

"But you never told him about it?"

"About what, the fifty? Of course not."

"Then how did you teach him anything? He walked away mad at a stranger."

"Well, he still got screwed."

"But he didn't know you had anything to do with it. I don't see the point."

"The point is don't get on people's nerves," Snopes states with finality. He takes a swig from his coffee cup and then replaces it in the dashboard cup holder.

"Have you ever been down this way before?" asks Snopes, after a period of silence.

"No, first time." Tossi was a driver, had been for several years, since he'd gotten out of college. He'd wanted to be something else, to carve out a different path than the old man, but he had to submit to the moniker of his profession. Of course, what the old man did was a little different, driving across the grand old USA, long hauling. His old man said he had to work up to it, that he was too young and too a lot of other stuff. His old man suggested learning the ropes with a small outfit before throwing himself to the wolves of the trucking industry, where a bad reputation went a long way.

"Yeah, it's hardly used because it kinda takes you out of the way. Few people know about it now but believe it or not, back in the day, this old route between the Expressway and 25 was the main road."

"I can see why no one uses it. We're going far out of our way."

"But there's never any traffic. It might add more miles because of all the twist and turns but it beats sitting still. You know how the Expressway is this time of day?" Snopes says shifting his weight, annoyed by the cracks in the chair's aged upholstery.

"What's with all the turns? They seem unnecessary."

"You're right, they are. Some famous tycoon originally built this road at the turn of the century before last, before they had paved roads."

"But why?'

"It was purpose built as a racetrack. Back then, there weren't racetracks, so the only place to race motorcars was on very small wooden tracks or on the open road, and since there weren't many roads, the tycoon made his own. It ran all the way from the city to somewhere out east. These few miles are all that's left now. Notice the banking in some of the turns, that's to help with cornering at high speed."

"How come I never heard of this?"

"Kids nowadays have all the info they can dream at the tip of a finger but you're all still so dumb. Look it up when you get home," explains Snopes in his curt way.

The cumbersome delivery van lurches into the turn, the inertia distorting the vehicle's center of gravity. Rubber squeals over the pavement. Tossi aims the van in a wide arc out of the apex, putting the front fender close to the guardrail on the exit of the turn. An unkempt profusion of foliage entangles the rusty steel railing. The thick brush stifles a deep view into the woods.

"This road is fun," Tossi says, accelerating on a brief straightaway. The next turn is a hard right followed by a tightening lefthander. Tossi coaxes the listing vehicle's awkward suspension around the bend with a few careful jerks of the steering wheel.

"Don't have too much fun," Snopes states. The van enters a swooping, wide-radius turn with a full head of steam. "Careful, don't wreck it."

"Don't worry I can handle it, been driving since I was six," Tossi replies dismissively.

"Just don't get too carried away."

"You said it yourself the turns were made for high speeds. Besides, look at the clock, all this looping back and forth is killing us. At this rate, we won't be home until after six."

"Think how long it will take us to get home if we crash," admonishes Snopes. He pauses to swallow another gulp of his coffee. "You younger guys never listen until you learn the hard way."

"Why would they give us a new stop way out east on this route, anyway? Every Thursday is going to be like this now."

"Why are you always so antsy to get home, anyway?"

"My girl, she gives me grief if I'm not home for dinner, but don't get me wrong I like to have a sit-down meal every night too."

"My wife couldn't careless about that stuff anymore. She's happy when she doesn't have to cook. Wait to you get older, you'll stop sweating the small stuff."

"It's better than eating fast food and cheaper for the most part."

"Hey, what's that?" Snopes says, alerting Tossi to an obstruction in the road.

The van carries too much speed. Tossi swerves to avoid the object. He cuts the wheel hard, dodging the debris just in time but his overcorrection causes the rear tires to lose traction.

"Easy," exclaims Snopes, as Tossi cranks on the wheel, fighting the gathered inertia with delicate jabs of the break pedal. The van slides like a sled on rails, heading for the inside of the next turn. The van's front fender strikes the guardrail. The impact is slight. They roll a few feet before Tossi sets the steering column to park.

"Didn't seem too bad," Tossi hopes optimistically, slightly shaken.

"I told you to slow it down. What's the hell's the matter with you, kid?"

"It wasn't my fault, something was in the road," Tossi takes the defensive. "What was it anyway?"

"Construction debris. Looked like a big chunk of a deck or a staircase. Must've fallen off a dump truck. Let's get out and have a look at the damage. If you weren't going so fast like I warned. Now you're almost as bad as Edelman. "

"Damn, flat tire," Tossi regrets. "Now, we'll never get home at a decent hour. Damn it."

"Hey, take it easy, would ya. It's no big deal. We'll have it changed in a few minutes. There doesn't seem to be any damage to the truck. You're lucky. You could have killed us, you know."

"We barely made contact. That's why I don't understand how the tire is flat."

"Who knows, we could have caught a nail, but instead of crying about it, let's start working on her. Why don't call the office, let em know what happened and that we're gonna be running late?"

"But I'm only telling them we got a flat, no need to mention the guardrail. They'll think I was going too fast. They'll never notice a tiny dent on the fender."

"I told you to take it easy but you wouldn't listen to me. No. How many times do I have to be proven right until you'll listen to me, you thickheaded?" Snopes starts again. "Sure, I don't care. Do what you got to do, kid."

"Ah, no service," he laments, staring at his phone.

"Try to move around a little."

"Still nothing. Say, take a look at that hill over there." Tossi points to a hilltop. "I bet I'd get some service up there."

"Seems like a hike, no?"

"It'll take me two seconds. I'll be back before you get the tire off."

"Yeah, right. You think you're going to make it all the way up there before I jack the van up and loosen a few nuts? You're out of your mind."

Tossi footsteps press deep into the soft sand of the lower hillside. Higher up, erosion slows his progress. Eventually, he finds his way barred by boulders. He hoists himself over the big rocks and up onto the summit.

"Just as I thought," he says to himself, as his phone displays two bars of service. "Hello, yeah, it's Vincent. Good. yourself? Yeah, we got a flat. No, we should be okay. Just called to let you know we'll be a little late. Yeah, I'm not sure, must've ran over a nail. If we need anything, we'll let you know. Okay, yep. I will."

He takes a breath and counts at least one thing off the list. Before heading down, he admires the scenery. From that height, the hills along the northern coastline are visible. He eyes the roads and highways that twist around the earth like a tightening belt, rippling the unsightly fat of suburbia, but in this little corridor down below, nature is pristine. The forgotten road etches through a solid block of greenery like a serpentine river, replete with meandering oxbows.

Starting down from the precipice, he extends himself over the rocky ledge until his probing feet find firmer ground. When he thinks he's found a solid spot, he lowers the rest of his weight over the edge, but the cliff side crumbles beneath his foot. He looses his grip and slides down the hill.

Collecting his anatomy after the tumble, he didn't seem to hit his head; only scraped his hands, skimmed his knees, and took a few contusions. He reaches for his most important item and is relieved to see the screen of his phone is unbroken.

When he looks up, he sees a dilapidated house, colonial-style architecture off to his right. Most of the roof is caved-in. Vines grow along the windows and a massive oak tree uproots a corner of the structure. A circle of masonry stacked about three feet high, an old-style stone water well without a roof or a hand-crank retrieval system catches his attention.

"Hey Tossi," he hears from a distance. "Where the hell are you?"

"Hey, I'm over here," he returns.

"Where?" Snopes yells, this time from much closer. "Tossi, you idiot, I told you, you could never climb to the top of that hill. What the hell happened to you? Look at you you're all scratched up."

"It's nothing."

"What the hell are you doing now, numbskull? The spares already on. What are you waiting for?"

"Making a wish," he answers, tossing a coin into the circular opening.

"What's gotten in to you? Did you make the call or what?"

"Yeah, I told you there would be service up there."

"Good, then let's get going. Aren't you always bitching about getting home on time? Now you want to play around in the woods," Snopes complains.

"Hey, what was that?"

"I don't know but I definitely heard something. Be quiet. Wait, there it is again."

"Sounds like a voice."

"It's coming from that well."

"You don't think someone could have fallen down there?" Tossi wonders with concern.

Both men peer down into the abyss of the well. All light extinguishes in the blackness.

"Hello," Tossi hollers. "Anyone."

"Come on, this is stupid," Snopes says, turning his back. "We're acting worse than a couple of kids."

"But what if someone is down there?" Tossi protests.

"Down there?" he scorns, pointing with his thumb. He leans over the opening and yells some more. "Nothing but darkness down there. Now come on, time to act like a grown up."

"I guess, you're right," Tossi concedes. He takes a few steps before stopping in his tracks. "Wait, I heard it again."

"You're going nuts. I didn't hear anything that time. I think your imagination is playing tricks on you."

"Maybe the person is hurt from the fall and has to build up the strength to cry for help."

"All right, we'll give a few more seconds, but enough is enough already."

"We could just go ahead and call the cops."

"I'm not dragging the entire police force and the fire department and lord knows who else out here for nothing. We'd be laughed at forever, never live it down. Probably have to pay back the waste of taxpayer's funds too."

"Better safe than sorry. Imagine if some guys walked away and it was you down there?" argues Tossi.

"I'm still not hearing anything."

"With us screaming at each other we're not going to hear a thing."

"All right, all right, be quiet for a minute."

"Are you lug heads going to help me or what?" asks a condescending voice, muffled by the depth of the well.

"Hey, what gives here?" demands Snopes. "Man, it's just some kids pulling a prank on us, I swear..."

"Hello," Tossi replies.

"Let's get going. I'm not going to be made a fool of."

"Hold on," Tossi says, looking back into the darkness again. "Are you hurt or just a prankster? Either way we're calling the cops."

"Let's just go back to the truck. We can call the cops from down the road."

"Cowards."

"What did you say?" Snopes brazenly shouts into the well. "I swear I'll rip your little head off if I get the chance. Punks like you need to be taught a lesson."

"You mad?" the voice asks, then chuckles.

"Go ahead, laugh it up," Snopes shouts, placing his hands on the rim of the well. "You won't be laughing when I'm ringing your neck. Goddamn punks, I'll break every bone you have."

"Hey, calm down."

"What? Punks who pull stunts like this bring it upon themselves."

"Oh, real tough guy," the voice teases, "Needs the cops to fight his battles."

"Yeah, that's right, pal. We're calling the cops and you're going to jail. What kind of person waits around all day just for the chance to play a sick joke on someone? Pretty pathetic, kid."

"Yeah, get a life."

"Let's go," Snopes says. "This little puke isn't worth our time."

The men turn their backs on the well and head on.

"Hey, wait, don't go. I was just fooling. I'm really hurt."

"Give it a rest, kid."

"Yeah, tell it to the police."

"I didn't know what I was saying. I hit my head, I think. I can't remember I've been down here for so long."

"We're going to call the cops as soon as we get back to the van," Tossi offers.

"Stay, I'm afraid."

"Why the hell should we?" Snopes says coldly. "After the way you insulted us, I almost don't care what happens to you."

"Please, I'm really sorry," the voice, pleads in a more youthful tone. "Everything hurts so much. I need help."

"You're a lair."

"No, I'm sorry."

"Come on, Snopes, he didn't know what he was saying, probably half crazy being stuck down there. I know I would be."

"What can we do? Let's just get back to the van and call the cops."

"We can see if we can help," Tossi says, walking back to the well. "Is there something we can do?"

"Get me out of here."

"We're gonna buddy. The cops will figure out a way."

"The cops aren't necessary. You guys can get me out right now. Easy, I promise."

"Sooner we call the cops the quicker you'll be out," replies Snopes.

"No cops," the voice asserts. "I've had enough prison already. Just get me out."

"How? If you think we're climbing over the side, you're out of your mind. They'll be two or three of us down there instead of just one."

"No, nothing like that. It's simple, so, simple that you won't believe me," the mystery voice explains.

"All right then, out with it."

"You just have to make a wish."

"This really isn't funny anymore. Come on, Tossi, this little creep has had enough fun."

"No, I'm serious."

"You can stop it now, kid," Tossi adds impatiently. "You're not getting anymore laughs out of us."

"Why don't you tell him what you wished for before?" the voice asks. The taunting syllables reverberate from deep in the well. Sound waves waft up the ancient stony walls, warp around the mossy growth, and slice through the cold, damp air to their ears. "Go ahead. What's wrong? Maybe, you need me to refresh your memory."

Tossi doesn't respond.

"So, you are afraid of him?"

"What's it talking about, Tossi?"

"Nothing, I didn't mean anything by it. I was making my wish right when you came walking up."

"Then you admit it?"

"Admit what, Tossi?"

"I wished for you to shut the hell up. I didn't think it would mean anything. How was I supposed to know?" Tossi tries to explain. Snopes stares on in silence. "You aren't sore at me, are you?"

"You got what you wished for, he's finally shut up," the voice informs, and then laughs.

"I'm sorry, Snopes, it's just you were yelling and you always have to be right all the time. I didn't mean it."

Snopes feels around his mouth and palms his larynx but he still cannot make a sound. He belches a primitive, guttural enunciation into the void.

"All you have to do is wish his voice back."

Tossi fishes a coin from his pocket and flips it down into the hole.

"I don't know what was wrong with me," Snopes finally says, breathing heavy. "It was like I had a mental block or something. Nothing hurt I just was frozen. Strange."

"Now, do you believe me?" the voice gloats. "Or do you require more proof?"

"What the hell are you?"

"Always the questions. Never can they do a simple task," it talks to itself. "You humans are all the same. Never heard the one about curiosity killing the cat, I see. Same thing every time, tell them not to eat an apple and what do they do, eat it the second you turn your back."

"You're claiming to be God or the Devil? Yeah, I'm really going to believe that," Tossi says sarcastically.

"Believe what you want, call me what you will. Tell humans one story and they take it to heart forever. It's comedic, really. It's called a metaphor, hello. Ah, forget it. Just wish me out of here, already."

"Why should we let you out?" questions Snopes, still fingering his throat.

"Because, I can grant you wishes, dummy. Man, are there any lights on up there? Is there anyone home? Toss a coin in and make a wish. I'll grant as many as you like if you promise to set me free with the last one."

"I only have a few coins on me, what about you?" asks Tossi.

"I don't have any. I hate change. Do we have to use a coin?" asks Snopes.

"Yeah, that's kinda how it works," mocks the voice.

"All I have is four. That's one wish for the end and three for us to split."

"How do you split a wish?"

"And you can't wish for more wishes. If you try to renege on me, I'll devoid all your wishes. Now that the terms straight, do we have a deal?"

"Wait a second, how did you get down there?" Tossi worries.

"Are you really going to tangle yourselves in the details? I'm offering to grant you any wish your hearts desire and you're worrying about something as inconsequential as why I'm down here. I find myself trapped for over two centuries and the first people I come across are a couple of clergymen."

"What kind of wishes, exactly?"

"Anything that doesn't alter the fabric of reality. Like I can make a stack of money appear but I can't make it rain hundred dollar bills. I can make you tall, strong, or charming but I can't make you Napoleon or the King."

"What do you think, buddy?" Snopes asks. "Should we give it a try?"

"I'm not sure."

"Why not? Aren't you always complaining about wanting to be more than a deliveryman?"

"Something doesn't feel right."

"I need this. You don't have to make any wishes. Why ruin it for me, though?"

"I'd still be responsible, they're my coins."

"Then I'll pay you back," Snopes reasons, his tone on the border of begging. "You're being unrealistic. There's no room for idealists in the real world. We've been presented with the most important decision of our lives. Do we take a chance or dream of what could have been for the rest of our lives?"

"But at what cost? I want to learn more before making a decision."

"Okay, then what'll it take? He'll probably say anything to get out of there. You're going to have to make a choice and live with it."

"Yes, what is it that you want to hear?" the voice returns, tauntingly.

"Can you at least tell me that people won't be hurt as a result of your release?" questions Tossi.

"I make no such guarantee."

"Are you evil?"

"No more evil than the man enjoying a steak for dinner."

"I'm not agreeing to anything that's going to lead to people suffering."

"Oh, stop it. He's just saying he would do what it takes to survive. He's not a mass murderer, right?" Snopes argues.

"No, I am not that kind of evil but I make no promises about my future actions. The deal between us is only valid in the context of the here and now. You wish for my freedom, I grant you your wishes. Nothing we decide here is applicable beyond our current agreement, understand?"

"Then, I can't live with myself. If people have to suffer for me to get ahead, I don't want anything to do with it," Tossi declares proudly.

"You're seeing things in black and white. Do you think your daily actions don't already cause hardships? What about the sweatshop workers that make your clothes and the animals that die so you can live? I know you're not a vegan," retorts Snopes.

"It's not the same."

"Oh no? There's plenty more and you know it. What about the wars the government fights with your tax dollars? There you can see the direct results, bombed out buildings, maimed bodies on the evening news. It's only talking about doing what it has to do."

"Yeah, and you don't even know what that is."

"You don't get chances like this more than once. It's like you have the winning lottery ticket but don't want to cash it in because you don't agree with the policies of the government. Hell, man, I may not agree with them but I'll sure as well take their money. Only a sucker would pass this up."

"I don't know."

"Look, afterwards, you can dedicate the rest of your life to helping the poor or some other worthy cause. Otherwise, we go back to the van and back to being deliverymen for the rest of our lives."

"Just give me a second."

"Listen kid, you're still a young with plenty of opportunity. What do I have to look forward to? I'm pleading with you now. Give me this."

"But I don't understand," Tossi says, sending his query down the well. "Are you claiming to be a vampire?"

The voice replies with cackling laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Your understanding is so basic. It's like you're given a set of instructions in a different language, but you go ahead and try to build the thing anyway, and not only that, you'll kill each other over whose wrong way is the right."

"Then tell us."

"What do you what to know?" it replies.

"What are you?"

"It's beyond your comprehension. I'm nothing like the myths you're familiar with. Every culture attempts to document my existence but none has come close. The ancients tried. You may see my rudimentary likeness painted on the walls of tombs and temples but no depiction has ever been accurate. Some have solved a small piece of the puzzle, completing a corner, shining some light on the mystery, but your collective understanding is still no more than a split second flicker in the museum of light. The moderns turned to high-powered lenses in search of me, peering into the farthest chasms of the universe and into the tiniest particles, and still they haven't been able to come up with an answer.

"If you want to see me there is only one place you need look. I'm the pain in the belly of the hungry man who begs and the contempt in the eyes of the rich man who walks by. Look beyond the arc of the skull-cracking club, at the joy on the face of the policeman and you'll see me there. You can hear me shouted from the mouths of pulpit-ready orators and smell me beneath the tents of battlefield infirmaries. You can feel me when there's fear, where there's despair, when the starved have to steal, or when men kill; in the vengeance of the scorned and in the hatred of the once oppressed."

"So, you're the cause of man's misery?" Tossi asks.

"No, not the cause, merely a benefactor."

"But somebody must've put you down there for a reason."

"You can't trust the judgment of Eighteenth Century buffoons, now can you? It was all superstition and witches back in those days. They weren't willing to reason, let me tell you."

"So, you can't actually kill people?"

"Depends on your point of view. Do you blame the drug for the overdose or the doctor who administered too much? If you blame the drug then I would be responsible, but from what I sense, it seems nowadays, there's more than enough to go around. It would hardly be necessary to do more than breathe and one would have a healthy lungful; that life giving essence ready to make me thrive once again," the voice says with salivating anticipation.

"All right, are you satisfied already?" says Snopes impatiently to his partner. "He said he wasn't going to kill anyone. What more do you need?"

"I guess," Tossi returns, his reservation written on his face.

"Life isn't that cut and dry. Everyone does shady things to get ahead. Come on, we aren't selling are souls or making a deal for Nazi gold."

"All right fine," Tossi agrees.

"Don't worry, you won't regret it."

"Okay boys, who's up first?" the voice says excitedly.

"I'll go first," Snopes asserts.

"Why should you go first?" Tossi challenges.

"You've already made the first wish, at my expense by the way," Snopes accuses. His face flushes red with blood.

"Give me a break. I didn't believe it would come true, not in a million years. Besides, they're my coins."

"I should get two wishes now that I think about it. I'm older than you, you'll have more time to make up for it."

"Okay, tell me what your second wish is going to be and we'll compromise."

"Oh no," Snopes says, distrustfully. "How do I know you'll make the correct wish when you toss the coin in?"

"Too bad, you'll just have to trust me."

"I don't think so," he says, taking a step towards his partner, assuming an aggressive posture, sticking his chest out and standing tall. "Give me the coins, Tossi."

"Why should I?"

"I'm not going to tell you again."

"Why, because you're bigger than me?"

"No, because of all the reasons I gave. Don't make me do this. It's your last warning."

"Yes, take what's rightfully yours," from down the well the voice encourages, sounding louder than ever.

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll be joining that thing down there if you don't hand me my two coins right now."

"That's it," eggs the voice, now sounding as if it's at the top of the well. "Take them all for yourself. Why should you share? If he was the bigger man, he'd do the same to you."

"Give me the coins," Snopes yells, grabbing Tossi's throat. With his other hand, he reaches for Tossi's pocket and the coins. "I warned you, now look what you're making me do."

"Yes, kill him."

Snopes's strong grip chokes off Tossi's air. The smaller man's feet dig scratch marks in the dirt. Tossi's one hand fights to free his neck. The other he clenches around all four coins. Snopes is unable to overpower Tossi's grip. With a burst of frustration, Snopes thrust his coworker to the ground.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he assures his floored opponent. "Don't stand between me and my future."

Tossi lobs a coin towards the well, a shiny quarter. Snopes clearly sees the bust of George Washington. The coin falls over the side and drops into the black hole of the forgotten well.

"What did you wish for?" demands Snopes. "Did it come true? Well, did it?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well give me one."

"Here," Tossi says, handing over the rest indifferently.

"Hey, don't be sore. What did you wish for? All right, thing, it's my turn."

Nothing answers.

"Hey, it's my turn. Hello."

"It's over, Snopes."

"What do you mean? What did you wish for?"

The smaller man turns his back, starting for the van.

"What did you wish for, Tossi?" he calls out. "No. Say you didn't do what I think you did?"

"Forget it. I ended it."

"How could you? Why?"

"Look what it did to us."

"Vinnie, I'm sorry, man. I don't know what happen to me. I guess I just lost it."

"Let's just forget it."

"Okay, like it never happened. You won't tell anyone how I acted, right?" Snopes asks, hurrying to catch up. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Snopes. It happens to the best of us. I know you didn't mean it."

"Here, take this."

"What?" Tossi says, and when he turns around Snopes is holding a twenty-dollar bill.

"The last customer gave us forty each but I only gave you twenty. Here's your share."

THE END

Bio: Mr. Zazzaro always wanted to be a writer, creating stories since he was a child, but he became a carpenter instead. Running his own handyman business gave him free time, so the writing bug bit again. Since then, he's finished two novels, one self-published, and a handful of short stories.

E-mail: Chris Zazzaro

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