Angry Highway

ANGRY HIGHWAY

By Stephen Scott

“Get the hell out of the way!” Jerry made sure to honk twice at the fellow in the fast lane. The car moved over … slowly. He moved closer to the man’s bumper and flashed his headlights. “Come on! Stupid jerk.”

           David clutched his armrest, trying to hide his fright. “Jerry. Calm down.”

           He sped past the car, glancing over at the elderly man. “What? You sidin’ with that idiot? He was blocking the passing lane!”

           David, hoping to dodge the blunt words of Jerry, countered with a calm voice. “Well, you’re almost 15 over the limit.”

           Jerry glared at David sternly. “I’m the professional here.”

           The trainee sighed, revealing his agitation.

           “Do you wanna ride with me or not?”

           Not liking the hostile tone, David sighed. “I just want to learn the procedures.”

           Jerry set the steering wheel between his legs, reached inside the bag and pulled out his hamburger. He ate it, then glanced at his newspaper.

           David somehow hid his panic, reached over and took hold of the steering wheel.

           “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jerry asked through his bites.

           “Just helping you out.”

           “I don’t need your help. I do this all the time.”

           David released his grip, fought his own irritation at Jerry’s tone. David was the new guy and wanted a job and certainly didn’t want to piss off his trainer. He found a neutral subject. “So how long does the route take you?”

           “Some days it’s longer,” Jerry said between chews. “Some days I have to go to Weatherford or Mount Vernon. It depends on what the physicians in those towns need. It’s pretty easy. I listen to the radio a lot. Eat when I need to. Take a dump when I need to.”

           “Seems like a lonely job.”

           “It can be.” He put down the food and paper and braked as he approached a slow truck. The highway reduced to two lanes, taking away a safe way pass. “Move it, jerk.” It moved to the right slightly, but Jerry could not see around it. The truck slowed. “Move over, dipshit!” Jerry pushed on the horn heavily. “I can’t see!” Although he saw a hill, he decided to go anyway. Pulling completely in the oncoming lane, he revved up the engine.

           A sports utility vehicle emerged in front of them. He sped up more, determined to get back over in front of the truck. The SUV slightly moved to the right while honking. Jerry accelerated his small pickup.

“Shit,” David whispered. He clutched the handle above his window as everything in his chest froze into a block of ice.

Jerry zipped back to his lane with seconds to spare. Hearing both trucks honk at him, he stuck one hand out the window and extended his finger. “Jerks,” he mumbled.

           David clutched his chest, breathing heavy. “Jerry, you may have been doing this a long time and used to pulling stunts like that. If you want to play with your life that’s fine. But you’re also playing with mine.”

           “What? It’s their fault. The SUV or the truck should’ve pulled over or slowed down.”

           “There’s no shoulder!”

           Their argument was lost in a high-pitched sound. A glint flashed across the rearview mirror. It happened again. The noise and flashes increased, as if gaining on them. The unassuming SUV had donned lights, and sirens. The flashing red lights from inside the cab looked angry, and the flashing headlights played a game of “gotcha.”  Jerry cursed and slowly pulled over.

           The window slid into the door and Jerry glanced back at the highway patrolman. “License and registration, please.”

           He handed both to the patrolman. “You don’t have anything better to do?”

           The patrolman’s head snapped up from examining the documents. “Sir, wait here while I check on something.”

           He rolled the window up to guard from the Texas heat. “I can’t believe this guy.”

           “I can’t believe you,” mumbled David.

           Both sat quiet, letting the air conditioning keep them cool. Eventually, the patrolman returned. “Sir, you’ve had two moving violations in the last 18 months. I’m citing you for reckless driving and improper lane change.”

           “What?” Jerry exclaimed. “I can’t believe this crap.”

           “Sir, according to my radar, you were doing more than 20 over the limit. You made a lane change with a solid yellow line, and within a quarter mile of a hill. You endangered my life and the life of that trucker.”

           “I oughta throw this ticket away!” Jerry said while shaking it in the patrolman’s face.

           “I’d then have to cite you for littering. Drive safely, sir.”

           Jerry rolled the window back up while putting the ticket in his visor pocket. With the window cracked, he had to get in the last word. “Asshole.”

           He stewed at the patrolman while driving away. As the sun set behind him, it seemed to cool his temper—until they reached Fort Worth. Jerry stayed in the passing lane, honking at anyone traveling too slow and making abrupt lane changes. Almost to the office, he sailed through two red lights. He stopped when a car in front of him stopped for the traffic signal. As soon as the light turned green, Jerry honked. “Move it, dipshit. It’s green.”

Reaching the office, he took the documents inside and turned them into his boss. He showed David the proper techniques for checking the documents in and checking out for the day.

           “So that’s the life of a courier. Whaddya think?”

           David stepped close and stared at Jerry angrily. “I may be new here, but you were downright reckless and unprofessional today. I’m willing to keep this between you and me today, but if I ever hear of you acting like this again, or see it, I’ll go straight to the offices about it.”

           Jerry laughed when David turned and walked away. What does he know? I’m a good driver. I’m a professional. It was their fault.

***

           Pushing the accelerator hard, Jerry passed the slow driver. “Jerk!” he said while honking. Still angry about David’s tirade from yesterday, Jerry tried to imagine how he could have handled the situation better.

           I should’ve told him I’ve been drivin’ courier for ten years and he should keep his mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for him. Or I could’ve told him to go to hell. Maybe I should’ve …

           His mind snapped to attention when seeing another slow-moving driver. Glancing at his speedometer, Jerry noticed he traveled nearly 90. What is today? Everyone drive slow today? “Asshole!” he yelled while passing the car. Hearing a horn, he saw the car in the oncoming lane. Accelerating, he zipped back into his lane with a few seconds to spare.

           A yawn deflated Jerry’s ire. The sun started to drop in the western sky, taking away the gale force winds. For a split second, the beautiful orange glare took away his temper. The highway seemed lonelier today. He actually missed David in the car. Occasionally, he did train a new driver, which was something he enjoyed.

           His stomach moaned. Jerry sped faster, wanting to get to a restaurant in the next town, then drop off the last bit of pharmaceuticals, then head home. The car seemed relieved as well when the engine stopped. Stretching his back and arms, Jerry tried to awaken his stiff, atrophied muscles. Popping his joints, he looked forward to a nice meal.

           Sitting at his favorite booth, he did not even glance at the menu.

The familiar waitress appeared. Somewhere between fit and heavy, she had aged gray eyes that had plenty of wisdom—but mostly from hearing stories. Her wrinkles disappeared in a smile, giving off a pleasant light. It was the typical small town café waitress who had the friendly ear and subtle wisdom. “Hi, Jerry. The usual?”

           “Hey, Diane. Yeah – the usual.”

           “How’s the job?”

“Boring as ever. Picking up piss, drugs, and lab tests. At least all the idiot drivers make it interesting.”

           She smiled while filling out the ticket. “It’ll be out soon, hon.”

           Jerry sighed, dreading the two hour drive back to Fort Worth. “Damn dipshit drivers.”

           “Not all idiots.”

           Jerry looked at the old man who sat in the booth next to him. Was he there before?

           “They all can’t be idiots. Grandpa said ‘if you meet one idiot a day, you met an idiot. If everyone you meet is an idiot, you may be the idiot.’ He was right, you know. Anger’s no good. It leads to prisons … and a terrible lot in life.”

The darkness almost hid the distinguished wrinkles and tired eyes. A red, faded ball cap had ‘Stan’s Trucking’ stenciled on it. “I used to be on the giving end of anger, now I receive it … constantly.”

Perplexed, Jerry wondered why a man who’s voice had so much wisdom also dripped with sadness.

“It’s a lonely life,” the man said. “But it’s my lot. I’ll take it. Though I hate it.”

           Jerry hunched his shoulders. “Hate what?”

           “Ever since …” the man shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

           Jerry stood and glanced outside, noticing the large, black truck . “That yours?” asked Jerry.

           The old man nodded lightly. “Yep. Been driving it for years. I hope someday someone can take my place.”

           Jerry stood, wanting to get away from the bizarre old man. He rushed to the bathroom, washed his hands, then returned for dinner. “Good,” Jerry mumbled, glad the  old man had left. Glancing out the window, the truck was also gone.

            The waitress finally returned with dinner. “So, Diane, what’s with the old coot who was in that booth?”

Debbie narrowed her eyelids. “Old man?”

“The one in that booth there,” Jerry said, pointing at it.

Debbie put her hands on her hips. “I haven’t sat anyone in that booth tonight.”

Jerry looked towards the other booth, wondering if he perceived the sitting arrangement correctly. No. A woman and her child sat there—and he remembered them. He pointed outside. “Remember, his cap said Stan’s Trucking.”

“Wait a minute,” she said disdainfully, “the old man with the Stan’s Trucking ball cap?”

Jerry nodded, finally taking a bite of his steak.

Her voice changed, with a mixture of eeriness and joviality. “Ooh, honey. You’ve seen a ghost.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Legend has it a guy named Stan disappeared on this highway about 20 years ago. His truck had this route to Abilene, but truck and driver disappeared. No one every found him or his truck.”

Jerry shook his head. “No way. The guy was here. Probably a new guy for Stan’s Trucking.”

“Well, if he was here,” said Debbie, “he stiffed a check and my tip. And I didn’t have to bus the table.”

Jerry shook his head while finishing his meal.

***

A large semi sped by, spreading the dry Texas dirt behind it, along with the carbon monoxide. Jerry coughed. Wiggling his keys, Jerry unlocked his small pick-up, and got in. The last delivery. Finally, he could go home. Two more hours, then a weekend of rest and recreation awaited him. His wheels launched him onto the lonely, dark highway. Darkness spread in front of him, while the sun’s light faded behind him.

Jerry’s eyelids felt heavy. Too much to eat, he thought. He slapped himself and turned on the radio, trying to wake himself. After singing a few bars, he yawned, preventing any distinguishable lyrics. Quickly, he switched it over to a talk-radio station, hoping the host might stir some thought to stay awake. No. The eyelids tried to shut. He jerked his head up and opened his eyes wide. As soon as he finished, they tried to shut again. He snapped his head to attention, hoping to stave off sleep.

The right side of his truck vibrated heavily, jarring him awake. Quickly he pulled off the rumble strip and back into the lane. Shaking his head, he remembered a rest stop about 40 miles down the highway. He hoped to make it. His head dropped again. Jerry’s eyes blurred. As his vision narrowed, his mind relaxed, anticipating blissful sleep. Almost there, unable to fight it, his eyes closed.

A loud honking noise jolted Jerry awake. Cursing, he pulled his head up and cursed loudly. “What the?”

Headlights closed in. Too bright and too close, they almost blinded him. “Back off, jerk.”  Fully awake now, Jerry saw his speed near 85. The vehicle behind him closed the gap. Able to flip the rear-view mirror, he sped-up, trying to gain some distance. The truck continued to remain close, as if taunting him. “I said,” Jerry said while tapping the brakes, “…back-off.”

The loud horn almost hurt his ears. It sounded three or four times. The truck closed the gap again. “What the …?” Jerry said while flipping off the driver. He hoped the driver of the vehicle could see him.

The loud honking started again, jarring Jerry’s eardrums. He wanted to cover his ears, but he feared taking both hands off the steering wheel with this maniac behind him. Seeing the small shoulder, Jerry pulled to the right. He ignored the annoying vibrations from the shoulder grooves. “Okay,” he said while slowing down, “…go ahead and get around me.”

The vehicle also pulled over, maintaining a close distance to Jerry’s bumper. “What the?” He glanced ahead, seeing nothing in the oncoming lane. “It’s clear, you idiot. Get around me!”

The horn resounded again – bellowing louder as if releasing anger or sheer malevolence. Suddenly, an empty feeling tried to drag his chest down. Sensing harm as the driver’s intent scared him. An ominous dread filled his chest.

Jerry moved to the empty oncoming lane, hoping the driver would pass him.

The truck followed every move. In fact, now it seemed as if the vehicle moved to make sure and get its bright lights into the side rear-view mirrors. “Damnit!” Jerry yelled. “What the hell is your problem?” He moved back to the correct lane, only to be followed again.

Defenseless, Jerry felt nervous and outmatched. Whatever vehicle stalked him, he could tell it was at least two or three feet higher like an SUV or over-sized pick-up.

The driver pulled alongside Jerry and flashed its lights at him. It honked again, startling him. “You Goddamned idiot!” he yelled while rolling down his window, “You’re gonna kill …” His voice trailed. The dread froze his mind as he recognized the large black truck from the diner. He barely caught the license plate: EVL 666. Jerry might laugh, but he panicked and hit his brakes hard as the truck swerved in front of him, flashed its brake lights for a second then sped up. The black truck blended with the night. Brake lights revealed its presence again.

Jerry veered to the right while hitting his brakes. This time, all tires left the pavement, and his small truck rolled across the plains. Tumbleweeds and tall grass slammed into his grill and thumped the hood. He crashed through a small wooden fence. Scared, he slowed more. A cow appeared in his lights. Veering hard to the right, Jerry barely missed it. Some trees appeared. Panicked, Jerry pushed the brake all the way to the floor. His truck jolted to a stop. Jerry’s chest slapped the steering wheel while papers, pens, and trash all snapped forward. Dust rolled into his cab, trying to choke his throat and invade his eyes. Even though the air conditioner poured cold air on his face, sweat beaded down his forehead and made his palms slick. He quivered, actually fearing for his life.

Nearly 200 yards away, the black truck waited on the shoulder. Dust outlined its bright headlights. Jerry stared at the monster, forgetting his fear, and forging hatred. Furious, he grabbed his steel flashlight. Clutching it tightly, he imagined pounding the driver’s head until it turned into a bloody pulp. “You Goddamned jerk!” he said while gaining anger with every step. “Get out of the truck!”

The horn sounded—slightly startling him. “I said get out of the truck!” he said while hitting the hood with his flashlight. The horn wailed again. “I said,” Jerry said reaching for the door, “…get out of …”

The door opened. Fiery eyes leapt at Jerry. The mouth, lined with disfigured, randomly sharpened teeth howled loudly. Cold, shadowy arms extended and tried to grab him. Jerry slammed the door and fell backwards. Panicked, he jumped up and rushed back to his truck. The shrill horn sounded again, leaving behind a cold, dreaded fright. In a full run he got back to his car, slammed the door shut and rolled up the window.

“You can’t get away from him.”

Jerry shined the light at the old man. “What the? Who are you? What’s going on?”

The old man looked as if he was about to cry. “I’m sorry. But he’s lettin’ me go and he needs a new driver.”

“Get the hell out!” Jerry screamed while trying to push the old man out of the truck.

More confused than scared, Jerry stopped trying to extract the man. “What are you talking about? I thought you were …”

An invisible vice clamped on Jerry’s neck. Feeling like cold steel, the touch robbed the warmth in his body. In his rear-view mirror, he saw it. The monster’s disfigured face looked as if it had been burned. Its eyes alternated between a hollow, black color and a fiery red anger. Its large mouth stretched wide, emanating a deadly hiss.

“So long, young fellow. You’ll learn. Just as I did.”

Jerry tried to reach for the old man’s help. Ignored, he struggled against the powerful, cold grip. It clamped tighter. Soon, everything blurred…then went dark.

***

David stared at the long, forgotten highway while yawning. The road stretched endlessly, fading into a blur in the far distance. Soon, the sun started to recede behind him, trying to blind him in the mirrors. The empty miles obstructed his journey back to Fort Worth.

           David wondered what happened to Jerry. He was last seen at a café several miles back – then he disappeared. The highway patrol could not find him, nor his truck.

           David snapped awake as he approached a black pick-up truck. It traveled too slow. Needing to get around it, David moved to the left. Unable to see very well, David lightly tapped his horn. The truck moved to the right then he zipped around it. “Move it, dummy!”

           Jerry stared into the distance as the small pick-up got around him. Tired, he wanted to sleep. Depressed, he wanted to cry. Hungry, he longed for food. His passenger, though, enjoyed making him listen to everyone who passed him.

“Jerk!”

“Idiot!”

“You damn fool!”

“Get the hell out of the way!”

Every insult echoed perfectly in Jerry’s ears.