Explain It Like I'm Tree

Interruptions

Possessing a vehicle was not the weirdest experience in Lewis' afterlife, but certainly different than most. For starters, he could feel the road, and every crack in it, passing under the wheels—his wheels. Wheels that turned at the ends of axles. Intake. Compression. Power stroke. Exhaust. When he moved the brake pedal, he felt the hydraulic system kick in, slowing the truck. There were dozens of processes happening inside that he sensed but had no words for.

He bet Arthur would know. Arthur would probably go hog wild if he could go ghost and possess a car. He'd be able to diagnose any vehicular problem in seconds just by popping into the inner workings and revving it up. Lewis would put money on it.

Stop thinking about Arthur's afterlife. He's alive.

His locket nestled safely in the glove compartment. Tiny drops of water pattered the windshield. Lewis automatically flipped on the wipers to clear the glass. Then he laughed, the body of the car vibrating at the sound. Rain wasn't about to obscure his vision in this state.

The highway stretched on. White line, white line, white line, white line. He made a game of counting the broken white lines in the center of the highway. Lost count when a sporty yellow car tailgated him, blared its horn, then tore past with an ear-splitting engine roar. Lewis briefly considered putting a healthy fear of death in the driver.

Arthur's face, screwed up with terror, flashed through his mind.

Shaking the impulse off, he cranked up the radio and checked how much further he had to go.

Not far, thankfully. Rain fell thickly in fat splatters now. The sky flickered. A few seconds later a terrific boom rolled over the countryside. The underbelly of the cloud layer had grown darker and loomed uncomfortably close.

Lewis focused on the tires, spinning away the miles. "Nothing about this storm can hurt you," he scolded himself. "Even if the truck rolled or got hit by lightning, you'd be fine."

Raindrops took on a rich red color as they splattered against his windshield, smearing gory streaks with each pass of the wipers. The frame of the truck shivered with him. He gunned the gas harder.

He had to get help for this. Had to fix it. This kid, Mothman, just had to have some connection who would know what to do. Maybe Lewis would just hang out in the factory until everything was resolved. Vivi would be thrilled for his absence. Arthur... Lewis would find a way to let him know that everything was fine. Arthur would understand if Lewis needed a week... or two... or three... to think things through. Right?

CR-RAC-ACK-A-BOOM

Lightning flashed with thunder right on its heels. Lewis pumped the brakes and turned his wheels, taking the appropriate exit a little too quickly. The cab's wheels glided for a couple seconds before regaining traction.

How exactly had he come to put so much hope in the help of a twelve-year-old, again? This was ridiculous. All of it. He should just...

Just what? Go home? Resign himself to hiding in walls and ceiling panels every time Vivi was in a bad mood? Accept he'd never be able to hold a decent conversation with Arthur? The engine bellowed louder at the thought. He wasn't about to resign himself to anything. Not to fading away, not to hiding out, and certainly not to watching the group fall apart.

He pulled up to a rather wretched looking three-story building and put the truck in park. Far too appropriate for this kind of meeting, was his first impression. Its concrete walls were blotched with mold. A whole wing of the building had collapsed at some point, leaving large portions of the upper two floors exposed. The vacant parking lot was strewn with rebar and concrete rubble. Vines and creepers cloaked any wall that still stood. The frosted glass front doors had bulky, rusted chains looped through the handles.