John's Midnight Ride

             “And a big hit from Devers up the middle brings one-man home! O’Neill is rounding third! The throw to home is… too late! O’Neill scores, Devers stands on second and it’s a 2, nothing lead for the Red Sox!” “God, O’Neill is having such a great start to the year” John said outload to himself. “I gotta try to get to Saturdays game.” He squinted his eyes as a row of cars came over the top of the hill up ahead, he looked towards the white line and saw a sign that read “Welcome to Harrison, Maine.” “Harrison?” He thought to Himself, “Where the fuck am I?” The radio crackled, and the crowd cheered as the Sox brought in another run. “Fuck, what a time to run out of data for the month, I guess if I go far enough I’ll find a place to pull off, then I can regroup.” John kept going, ultimately unbothered, but he was tired from a long day at the lake with his girlfriend, who stayed behind at her parent’s cabin. He turned the dial up and cracked the window to help keep his eyes from getting too heavy. A commercial for a hometown lawyer came on, and he mocked the catchy, predictable jingle at the end. He snapped to attention when he heard his name.

             “Take the next left John.” That was it, just a quick little sentence and it was on to a Kars for Kids add. He felt confused at first, then a quick and hot shot of fear hit him. In a second, however, he calmed down and talked himself out of what he heard. The top of the 6^th came and went, and the same voice as before cut in just as the broadcast heading to commercial and said, “We’ll be right back after John hears these messages.” Shook, and weirded out, John turned the volume down to think for a second. Before he got too far, a voice spoke up at the previous volume saying, “You missed that left! Make sure you get this one coming up.” There was some frustration in the voice this time around, and this concerned him. He saw the sign come into the high beams, “Zion Hill Rd.” John felt tiredness, fear, and uneasiness because he knew he was lost. He also knew that he was being watched. Fighting through the mixing of all those emotions, the fear twisting his better judgement, he felt it was safest decision to follow the radio’s orders. John slowed his car in the darkness and took the turn.

             Gone were the Red Sox as the radio went full static. After a moment the voice broke back into the transmission. “Well done, now steady on ahead until you reach the T intersection, there you’ll take a right.”  Sweating with emotion, John felt fear creep up his back and down to his hands to the wheel. Something had control inside of him, and he never let off the gas. When he reached the intersection, he looked straight and saw the moon reflecting on a body of water. He saw that it was flat calm and large and suddenly he snapped back into his own mind. “Maybe that’s the lake!” He thought to himself. “If I can stay on this road and go all the way around maybe I could make it back to her place and I could get myself out of this.” He took his right, and the moon lit up the left side of his face as he proceeded further. The radio was still full of static, but he could hear little whispers and indiscriminate little chants that sounded like they were coming from another room, or maybe from down the hall from where the mic was. Keeping steady on the accelerator and navigating the gentle twists and turns of the road as it followed the lake, his trance returned. John fully knew that he didn’t want to keep going this way, but he couldn’t stop. Part of him was scared to anger the haunting host coming from his dash, but mainly he was under his spell.

             John’s radio continued to get more and more clear, a sign he took to mean that he was approaching his destination. After slowly rolling over one final hill, he was filled with dread.

             “WKZX Radio station” read the rotting sign hanging on the old building. “A fitting place for you to end up this evening!” delighted the voice from the dash. John pulled in slowly, and his headlights illuminated the rotted, sunken exterior of the old station. He took a beat. It was quiet, and he saw no motion anywhere. His eyes shot to the radio as he heard a flurry of footsteps which sounded like a group walking in a line out the door. Anxiety and anticipation swelled in him. There was a gentle tap on his passenger window. Blinking sweat from his eyes, John slowly looked up. He was greeted by a great smile which peered in from the dark. Immediately John snapped out of his haze and lost it. Screaming and fumbling around while still in the driver’s seat, he gunned it in reverse. Unable to think clearly, he stayed heavy on the peddle. Banging past trees and crushing bushes, he suddenly felt himself become weightless for a few seconds, and he and his car hit the water hard. “You gotta be fucking kidding me!” He uttered with a shaky, squeaked voice and he gasped to catch his breath. He fumbled to undo his seatbelt as the water reached his knees, but his hands wouldn’t work. He looked out of the windshield towards the shore. The station’s neon sign and interior lights switched on and lit up the small parking lot. Backlit, the group watched as John struggled to help himself. A few of them calmly prepared a rowboat, and John slipped under the ripples he had made. The moon’s light danced on the water’s surface until it stood flat and still once more. Gentle oars could be heard in the distance. John was no more.