Chapter Six: Between the Living and the Dead

He barely noticed the cities they passed by that gave way to open country roads and long stretches of land without buildings. He didn't think much of the landscape anymore. The silent hours passed him by brooding over his guilt. The guilt competed with hurt over Gabriella not supporting him through this. But he forced himself to think that he shouldn't really blame Gabriella for not coming along. This was his fault and his fault alone. She had nothing to do with it. It was selfish of him to involve her when she had her classes to go to. It was his mess to clean up, his crime to pay for.

He glanced again at Sharpay for probably the hundredth time. She hasn't uttered a word since they left the Stanford campus. She didn't even look up at him even once. She just stared out at her own window as if she was memorizing the landscape of the open road while her hands lovingly stroked her dog who nestled obediently on her lap. Boi had not uttered single a bark either. It was as if her dog was tuned in to her silence.

Troy wished she would say something or even glare at him. The Sharpay he knew said exactly what she felt and released her fury at viciously high decibel levels matched with equally fierce looks. But this Sharpay's silence cut at him a thousand times more than any ear-shattering yell she could ever utter. What she didn't say spoke volumes and was amplified infinitely by his guilty conscience.

He passed a town marker and was rather surprised that they were already in the midst of Kern, County. His stomach suddenly gave an unexpected rumble and he realized how hungry he was. He checked his watch. It was almost five in the afternoon. He had been driving non-stop since nine o' clock this morning and he remembered he hadn't had breakfast or lunch. Eating had been the last thing on his mind since he was well fed on misery. But now his biological clock was catching up to him and he knew he just had to answer it. The town marker he passed indicated they were just a kilometer away. He thought they might as well stop for food and gas.

"Sharpay, we need to stop for a while in town. We need gas and it might be good to eat something too."

She ignored him and didn't even react.

Troy decided to just call her attention again after they reached the town. It was a small town and they reached the center of it in less than five minutes. Troy immediately found a gas station and pulled over to stop there.

"Why are we stopping?" Sharpay asked impatiently in her usual haughty way while Boi gave him an equally vicious bark.

"Gas," he said simply.

"Fine," she said irritably before turning away from him again.

Troy got out to have his tank refilled. The teenage gas boy wasn't around to take his payment and he saw why. He was standing by the cashier counter preoccupied with listening to the radio that appeared to be tuned on to one of the local stations. Both the gas boy and the middle-aged male cashier appeared to be absorbed by the report. The announcer was narrating something about a bank robbery that turned bloody followed by a police pursuit before it switched to the commercial.

"Damn it! Stupid station turns to commercial when it gets interesting!" the cashier barked at the radio.

"Uhhmm excuse me?" Troy called out.

The gas attendant finally turned to him and took his money and handed it over to the cashier.

"You just arrived in town?" the boy asked while he waited for change.

Troy nodded.

"That bank robbery on the radio—that was just four blocks from here," the boy said rather excitedly.

"Oh," Troy said disinterestedly.

"Yeah, it got really nasty," the boy said enthusiastically. "Got a few dead people, two of the robbers got away and the police are in hot pursuit."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Troy replied just to be polite. He really didn't have time to chitchat. "Look, is there a place here I could get some early dinner on a budget?"

The boy brightened even more. "Oh go on to Zelma's. That's four blocks from here. Just right across the bank that got robbed. You can't miss it. The place is swarming with police cars and even reporters. And you can even see the bank for yourself. I was there too a while back."

Troy wasn't really in the mood to witness crime scenes when he just committed his own crime against Sharpay. Besides, he was in a hurry to eat and he didn't want the place to be too busy to serve him. "Is there any other place besides that?" he asked.

The gas boy shook his head. "Closest place is Zelma's. There's not another diner for another three miles."

Troy decided he was too hungry to travel that long for another restaurant. He thanked the boy and got back in the truck. He found Sharpay staring out at her window at a lamppost.

"Sharpay," he said gently as he restarted the engine. "We need to stop at a diner four blocks from here. I figured we could both use something to eat."

Sharpay didn't turn to look at him but responded evenly: "I'm not hungry."

Troy suddenly realized how insensitive his remark was. Of course she wasn't hungry. She's a ghost. She can't eat. She probably can't sleep either.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as he pulled away from the station. She remained silent and her gaze appeared to be transfixed to that same empty space next to the lamppost. Even when they were back on the road, her gaze followed that area until it was no longer within view.

"I'm really sorry, Sharpay, but I need to stop for something to eat. I promise I'll be quick."

He got no response at all from her. She kept looking out her window with a thoughtful expression. He decided silence was better.

He found the diner easy enough. Even from a block away he could see the line of police cars surrounding the building right across it. There were no more media people around and he figured they must have left to cover the police pursuit. As he got closer, he saw the yellow police line cordoning the entrance to the bank. The sight reminded him of the images on TV of the junkyard where the police found Sharpay's body. It made him feel sick.

"What happened here?" Sharpay asked as she craned her neck to see the crime scene.

"The bank got robbed, "Troy answered. "The gas boy told me. Someone di—I mean got hurt," Troy said as an afterthought. He didn't want to say anything that reminded Sharpay of her own death.

But Sharpay didn't respond but continued to look curiously at the scene by the bank. He slowed down and parked across it. When he did, she looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"I'm sorry but I need to stop to eat. I promise I'll be quick," he repeated in a pleading voice.

"What?" she asked as if he just broke her thoughts.

"I said I'm sorry but I need to eat."

She stared at the diner in front of them. It was one of those simple mom and pop stores that had been worn with time. It was the kind of place that locals converged after a day at work and where travelers stopped by occasionally for a quick snack. Troy was sure this place fitted his budget alright but he realized it was also the kind of place Sharpay had never been to.

And from the scowl that instantly appeared on her face, he knew he was right.

"Oh no! I am not going in there!"

"Sharpay's there's no other place but this for another three miles."

"Well then we'll go three miles."

"But Sharpay, I'm…" He didn't want to say 'hungry' when the word might offend her as she couldn't feel that anymore. "I mean it's the only thing I can afford. Please, I'll just go in real quick. You don't have to come in if you want."

"Fine then!" she huffed. She got out of the truck. "You go eat and I'll stay outside. I'll go get some fresh air, not that I need it anymore since you killed me," she added nastily. "But don't you go wandering around too far and have me dragged in."

"Thanks, Sharpay," Troy replied gratefully. "I'll sit over there." He pointed to the empty booth closest to the window. That way Sharpay could be free to wander farther outside.

She brushed him off with an impatient wave of her hand.

He went inside and heard the patrons talking about the bank robbery across the street. A radio was also blaring by the counter. He recognized the same local station that he heard at the gas station. It was currently playing another commercial. Troy didn't have time to listen. He sat on the booth he indicated and signaled to the waitress.

A young woman in her early twenties with dirty blond curly hair sauntered over to him with an overeager smile plastered on her face.

"Burger, fries and coffee," he told her. "Black," he added as an afterthought as he remembered he will be driving all night and he will be needing the caffeine.

"Coming right at you honey," she said with a wink. He ignored her and stared outside the window. Sharpay was standing by the sidewalk as far as she could go with her back to him. She appeared to be looking at the crime scene across the street. Boi was jumping up and down at her heels, barking madly.

"Here you go, honey," the waitress arrived with his coffee and he was forced to look at her.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're new in town?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered curtly. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation with strangers but the waitress wasn't getting the hint.

"If you came by earlier you would have seen the action across the street. Five guys held up the bank there. The cops came and we heard shots. It all got exciting. The robbers killed two of the guards and the bank manager. But the police got three of them. Two of the robbers got a hostage. They jumped into this really cool car and got away with the cops chasing them down the road out of town."

Troy didn't reply. He didn't like the way this waitress related the tale as if human lives getting wasted was something to be pleased about. Didn't she realize how those people that got killed suffered? But no, she was talking about those robbers like they were heroes in some movie instead of the cold-blooded thieves and murderers that they were.

The waitress continued to relate her eyewitness account. And went on to say how a camera crew of the local press passed her by and she expected to see herself at the 6 'o clock news. Troy was getting annoyed but was too polite to brush her off. He was relieved when he heard the "ting" of a bell that indicated his order was out. The waitress reluctantly excused herself to get his food.

Fortunately, after she served him, she had to attend to another customer. She left him alone to tell her tale to another listening set of ears.

Troy glanced out the window but Sharpay was gone from his sight. He focused on eating his food and ate as quickly as he can—partly because he didn't want Sharpay to wait any longer, but mostly because he was really starving.

The food was greasy and bland but he gobbled it up as if it was the most delicious meal he could have. He realized this might be one of the few last meals he will have as a free man. He wondered how the meals in jail taste like. His heart sank in dejection but he reminded himself that at least he could still eat. Sharpay couldn't and would never taste anything ever again.

He sipped his coffee and savored its bitter sting—then choked when Sharpay suddenly appeared through the wall and sat on the seat opposite him.

He spat the coffee and coughed.

"You alright?" she asked coolly.

"Sorry—cough—got—cough—surprised—cough—cough—"

Sharpay rolled her eyes at him. She waited for him to recover before she said another word.

"You alright now?" her tone was surprisingly much more kinder or at least had less iciness in it.

"Look, I'll hurry okay. Just give me a minute," he said softly. He realized people were staring at him. He turned around and gestured to the crowd of patrons and the concerned waitress that he was alright.

But Sharpay shook her head. "No, take your time while I tell you something. I need you to do something for me."

Troy sipped his coffee carefully. "Alright?" he whispered. He noticed that Boi was on top of the table and was attempting to lick at the remnants of his burger. The poor dog however just kept going through his plate.

"Boi, honey, don't," Sharpay told it gently. "Have you lost your taste when you died?" She pulled the dog away from Troy's plate and the disappointed terrier barked at Troy as if it knew that he was the reason it couldn't eat anymore.

"We need to make a stop here in this town," Sharpay continued. "There's no need to hurry back to Alburquerque immediately."

"Okay…" he was curious at what Sharpay wanted from him that would make her want to delay their return.

She pointed to the window to the bank across the street. "You heard about the robbery?"

Troy nodded. "Five men came in and robbed it. There was a shootout and a few people including three of the robbers, two guards and the bank manager were…hurt—the waitress told me."

Sharpay rolled her eyes at him. "You can use the word Troy. They're dead."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Sharpay ignored his remark. "Well that waitress forgot to tell you about one of the bank tellers. She was killed too."

Troy gave her a puzzled look but she held up a hand to let her continue.

"The robbers panicked when one the guards managed to grab hold of one of their companions' guns. There was a tussle for the gun and they began shooting. They shot the bank manager in the head and she died instantly. The police moved in but one of the customers went into a panicked frenzy. They began shooting point blank. They injured some customers, fatally wounded the guards. The teller got a stray bullet in the stomach and she bled to death before the rescuers got her to the ambulance."

Troy was horrified at her tale but even more with the matter-of-fact manner she was relating it to him.

"How do you know all that?" he asked.

Sharpay's expression was completely serious but it was her words that gave him a chill: "The teller told me. She's sitting right next to you."