The Last Mile

He stood in the middle of Highway 79, the asphalt a faded ribbon cutting through nowhere.

Title: The Last Mile
Word Count: 1,497

The wind had teeth out here. It gnawed at Elias Kade’s coat and found every seam in his gloves, turning his knuckles to stone. The desert, stripped of summer’s cruelty, now carried a different kind of malice—sand dusted with frost, horizon drawn in cold, merciless lines.

He stood in the middle of Highway 79, the asphalt a faded ribbon cutting through nowhere. No cars. No tire tracks. Not even a rabbit’s prints disturbed the thin layer of powder from the night before.

Three days ago, he’d left Junction, a settlement of forty-four souls when it was alive, zero now. Some said the people left when the wells ran dry. Others whispered about the night the sky sang like broken glass. Elias didn’t believe either story. He only knew there was nothing behind him worth turning to.

Up ahead, something interrupted the horizon—a black speck against the pale sky. It didn’t move.

When he reached it, he found a telephone booth. Perfectly clean. No coin slot, no graffiti. Just a single button where the numbers should be.

A memory pressed in—his sister’s voice on the last call they’d ever shared. Don’t come looking for me, Eli. If the road’s empty, keep walking.

He pressed the button.

The line clicked. A warm, calm voice said, “You’re almost there, Elias.”

His breath caught. “Who is this?”

“The highway ends in thirteen miles. You’ll find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“You do.”

The line went dead.

When he turned, the booth was gone.

The miles bled together. Eleven. Nine. Shadows stretched longer than they should have. The desert felt alive, watching.

A man appeared ahead, standing in his lane. Long overcoat, brimmed hat, face hidden.

“You’re late,” the man said.

“I didn’t know I was expected.”

“Everyone is.” His gaze swept over Elias’s pack. “You’ve been carrying that too long. Leave it.”

“It’s not yours.”

“Everything out here is mine.”

Elias walked past him.

“The last mile,” the man called after him, “is the hardest.”

Night fell. The stars were sharp and innumerable. Cold pressed against his lungs.

The road began to slope—a thing it shouldn’t do in this flat country. At the crest, a faint yellow glow spilled into the air.

At the bottom of the rise sat a diner, light pouring from its windows. A flickering sign read: End of the Line Café.

Inside, silhouettes moved, blurred but familiar.

He stepped through the door. Heat wrapped around him. The faces cleared—his sister, smiling from the nearest booth. Across from her, his father, gone ten years, nodded once.

The room was full of people he’d lost. Neighbors from Junction. Friends from years past. All smiling like they’d been waiting.

His sister stood, took the pack from his shoulders. “You don’t need this anymore.”

He realized she was right. The weight that had clung to him for years seemed to vanish. For the first time in months, he could breathe.

She smiled. “Sit. Eat. Rest.”

And he did.

Outside, the desert wind kept blowing over the empty highway. Somewhere out there, another traveler would come. And when they did, the booth would be waiting.