The usual fake-cheery voice greeted me with the standard salutation and asked what I wanted to order.
My answer was not usual or standard. “I would like twenty Quarter Pounders, please.”
The girl at the other end paused. “Did you say twenty, sir?”
“Yes, I did, with cheese.” This wasn’t unnatural. It usually took people a moment to grasp massive orders, and I had become used to it.
That didn’t mean I liked it, though, any more than the first time.
The girl came around in a few seconds.
“That’ll be $146.08 at the first window, sir.”
I moved up, and in less than a minute, was idling in front of the window. The girl looked out at me, and I could see the slight flare of disgust in her eyes. The sight of a grossly overweight man, all alone in the car ordering twenty large hamburgers, was bound to invite judgment. I didn’t act like I saw or cared, though I did.
The girl was polite, though, unlike others at similar windows across America. She didn’t make any remarks, just took my card, swiped it through, and wished me a nice day. I responded in kind and inched forward to the second window, where the guy handed me five sacks filled
with hamburgers. I thanked him and drove off, heading toward the rest area where I’d parked my
RV.
When I pulled out onto the road, I was already on the second Quarter Pounder.
I reached the rest area in a few minutes, having already finished all twenty hamburgers. They were enough to get me through the next couple of hours, but then I’d have to eat again. I always hated this aspect of my magic, even though I’d had grown used to using it.
I drove my Jeep Grand Cherokee up the ramp onto the small trailer behind my RV.
Heaving myself out of my car, I stepped down heavily and turned my attention to the chains.
On most days, it would have been no trouble at all to chain the car to the trailer, but not today. Instead of bothering to struggle with the chains for five minutes, I did a quick check around to see that no one was watching, then drew on the power within me.
Drawing a deep breath, I focused solely on an image of the chains linking and connecting around the car, setting all other thoughts aside. Once the vision was steady and firm, I released the magic.
The chains slithered up and wound themselves around the car like snakes, connecting with a sharp click. At the exact moment, I lost about half an ounce of fat. I was prepared for this, though, and hastily unwrapped and chowed down on a bar of granola.
Waddling to the RV door, I opened it and squeezed through. Sitting down at the wheel and starting the engine, I drew another deep breath and focused again. This time I wasn’t holding an image in my mind, just trying to sense the flow of magic, pulling me in some direction. It would do so, I was sure. There was a place it wanted me to go, some evil I needed to stop.
Otherwise, I would not be filled with such insatiable hunger that forced me to eat constantly.
There were no words (there never were), but I received a distinct western impression. I was already in Colorado and had been driving west since Illinois, which still left half the United States as options. But the pull wasn’t south or northwest, so that probably ruled out Washington or New Mexico.
I stepped on the gas and drove out onto the highway. The magic would tell me where to go, and it would bring me there at the right time.
I just had to trust, like so many times before.