When the car finally stopped, they were in the middle of a long field surrounded by trees, the sun setting over tall grass. They had run out of road a long time ago. It was as good a place as any to stop driving.
The exact stopping point was in the center of a triangle made of three shrines, which was apparently auspicious. The third shrine still looked mostly like a person, so they left offerings at the other two and avoided the third. Anselm was the superstitious one of them; he insisted. Through careful measurements, he determined which shrine was closest to them. It was beneath an old and mighty yew. There was nothing left visible of it, buried somewhere in the roots of the tree.
It was hard to know what to do when there wasn’t anywhere left to drive. The car belonged to Michon, who had been the sole driver and thus the leader, but now that the car was no longer in use, this hierarchy was to be replaced, though none of them were very keen to discuss the matter. Privately, Michon still believed that they were the most capable leader of their trio. However, they also wanted to sleep in more in the mornings.
Now that there was nothing left but the sky, it was hard to talk about anything. Michon didn’t hear Sophia speak for six days. They didn't even notice her silence, not until she spoke one morning, her voice ragged with disuse. She told Michon and Anselm that she had visited the third shrine, but it had moved.
Anselm immediately produced his calculations. This was troubling, he said. They would need to find the shrine’s new location. The shrine must be very young, to wander so. Also, if it had wandered closer to them, they would need to give it more offerings so that it would leave them alone.
That’s all we want after all, said Anselm. To be left alone. It’s why we started driving.
Sophia disagreed. No, she said. We drove so we could find more people like us. Instead there are only shrines.
Michon didn’t say a word. They started driving because they were the only one with a car and the only one who could drive and the only one who could keep them together.
Before they left to find the wandering shrine, Michon visited the second furthest shrine. It was beneath a stone outcropping so shrouded in moss that only the dimmest outline of a crouched figure was visible. It felt uncomfortable to kneel there with cold water dripping down their neck, but Michon did it anyway. The remains of their last offering were gone. An animal’s bones were scattered there instead. Michon chose a femur and pocketed it. It was only after they entered the sunlight again that they read the words carved on the bone: No going back.
They packed for a long trip and bid the car farewell. Michon led the way, femur in hand. The shrine had gone to water. It was Sophia who found its tracks as it had tore through reeds and fell briefly in the mud, leaving behind two deep hand prints, the whorls of its palms still pressed into the soft earth.
It must be thirsty after all that time, said Sophia.
Can shrines even get thirsty? Michon asked. Don’t they just sit down and sustain themselves?
Nothing can sustain just itself, said Anselm.
They lost the trail after a storm rolled in. There was an old row of houses to take shelter in, so they went to the one with the least holes in the ceiling and set up camp in the remains of the ground floor bedroom. In the middle of the night, Michon woke to the sound of someone walking on the floor above them. He looked over to find Sophia awake as well.
It’s the shrine, said Sophia. It came in as we were all sleeping, and bent over each of us in turn. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t move my body. It bent over Anselm the longest, and spoke something to him in a language I didn’t understand. Then it went upstairs.
Michon looked over at Anselm, who was still fast asleep. He always looked distressed in his sleep, but tonight he looked peaceful and content. They decided to let him sleep.
In the morning, Sophia told Anselm the words that the shrine had spoken. Anselm laughed. He said the shrine had told him that there was a car in the garage three houses down, and the keys were in the ignition.
The three of them went upstairs to see the shrine. It had sat down in the middle of what used to be a child’s bedroom. There were faded stars painted on the walls and the carpet had bears on it. Sophia left a glass of water by the shrine’s knee.
Michon was reluctant to start driving again. When they turned the key, they felt a heartsickness at the roar of the ignition. Was this it? Was this all?
If only the shrine could come with us, said Sophia. Our party could have used a fourth.
It’ll follow if it wants to, said Anselm. But shrines never travel in groups.
Michon pulled out the femur. Not long now, it said. This heartened them. They reversed out of the garage and into what was left of the road. They would follow this road until it stopped, and then they would drive until the car stopped, and that’s where they would stop as well.
Then they could sit down. Then they could rest.