There was no logic that could explain the sequence of events that had brought him to park along the side of this desolate road. The snow fell steadily as he listened to his engine tick and pop, the cold night air quickly cooling the hot metal. His headlights illuminated cones of snow over the icy corn field. The voices had brought him here. He knew it but could not explain it. The voices. What were they anyway? He lay his head back and closed his eyes, breathing slowly in an effort to tap into the white noise that had guided him over the past few months. The journey had been long and confusing, but tonight all would be revealed if he could only concentrate.
In the distance, he could hear the flat, modulating whine of tires as countless travelers drove down the interstate highway. The noise was soothing and hypnotic. He allowed himself a small smirk as he thought of the drivers speeding by his spot, oblivious to the wonderful truth he was about to discover. The wind whispered its secrets to the dead corn, blowing the new snow in ghostly waves over the furrows, valleys and scrub left behind from the year's harvest. The insulating blanket of white muffled the night sounds, but he knew this is where his focus must lie.
He listened. Below the wind he heard the soft accumulation of snow on his wet windshield. Miniature avalanches slid across his view as they melted against the car's quickly dissipating internal heat. He listened. He heard his breathing, slow and deep and deliberate. He listened. He heard his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears.
He listened. Quieter than the snowflakes and his own heartache he began to hear what had brought him here. He began to hear the voices.