|
 |
||||||||||
|
|||||||||||
|
|||||||||||
Roadside Assistance
by Matt Shaner
I started a third shift job about a year into my marriage that required a morning drive in the dark. Initially, it also required a large cup of coffee and extra sleep. After a few months, I became used to the trip.
The highway route ran towards Philadelphia and normally lasted no longer then twenty minutes. I first noticed the abandoned car one morning while running late. It was a late model Cadillac parked on the opposite side of the road. Abandoned cars are not anything new in our area and I thought nothing of it. The next morning, after placing my coffee cup back into the holder, movement registered out of the corner of my eye and inside the cabin of the car. I chalked it up to a drifter or maybe the owner returned to try and fix it.
Over the next two days, a figure sat in the driver’s seat. A fog rolled in over our area and I could not get a clear sight of his details. All I noticed was a head and shoulders in the space of the windows. The car never moved. A month passed and I wondered why they had not towed the thing. The tires became coated with rust and overgrown weeds. The back window cracked where someone had thrown a bottle through it from a passing car. Rust found its way up from the tires and over the doors. A hole started to form on the back left side. The muffler fell down to the surface of the shoulder.
Thanksgiving came around and, with the nature of my financial business, I needed to be available for clients. This holiday was not celebrated in Europe and we dealt in their markets. My wife hated the shift but I enjoyed the quiet time. The majority of the company was off and I sent my team home early. Around noon, I shut down the computer and went to drive home.
Barely any cars came down either side of the highway. The sky grayed over in a sheet of clouds and rain danced on my hood. I saw the car in the distance. As I drove by, the sight whipped my head back in reaction. A man was clawing at the glass. His fingernails dripped blood onto the door. His fists were pounding the window but it did not break. His voice lay open in a inaudible scream.
I put on my turn signal and pulled off to the side of the road, leaving my cell phone on the dash hooked up to the car charger. I backed up and checked the mirror. Rather then the panicked figure, the same head and shoulder set sat at the wheel. I decided it was time to check things. Out. I opened the door and stepped into the rain.
Walking back to the car, a strong smell hit my nose and I almost gave up. The vehicle sat still in the driving rain and it increased in volume with each of my steps. I finally made it to the window. The head turned. I knocked on the glass. I noticed it was smoked over, leaving me no room to make out the details of the figure inside.
“Hey, are you alright?” I asked and kept pounding. “Are you alright in there? I see you in there.” The head kept staring at me. I sighed. “Open the window.” The mechanism jerked the entire side of the car as the window rolled down. The smoke billowed out of the door. The face leaned at me from the seat.
Its eyes were no longer and its mouth opened. The skin barely kept on the skull. Somehow, out of this, a voice emerged.
“Thanks, man, I needed that. You see, you needed to ask and you were the first. I owe you everything.” I started backtracking away and slipped on the wet road. Why hadn’t anyone driven around the corner and seen this? “It’s your turn.” The door creaked open. A pair of legs, stick-like bones, propped themselves up on the gravel shoulder. The door shut and everything went black.
My eyes opened and focused against the haze. I watched my car pull away. I looked around. It had placed me inside the abandoned Cadillac. The seat cushions were rotted. Some of the grass outside had found its way up through the floor. I slammed my hands onto the steering wheel and it broke. I tried the doors, a thousand times, and they never moved. The sun fell. Surely my family would be looking. I waved and tried to flag down passing motorists but it never worked.
Six months have past. My sanity vanished with my death. The remains of my hands still hold onto the steering wheel. I look at each passing car but they do not see me. I try to wave. I try to generate the vision that drew me into this, try to make another driver see it. I believe, if they do, I can get them in here and get out to freedom. I am so ready to see something other then this car. I cannot sleep. I never eat. My mouth went dry. I’m starting to lose hope. What if it never happens? What if there are no good people left? Then what do I do? Will I sit here for all eternity in my own private punishment? What did I do to deserve this? I try to work the broken radio for the last time and a pair of taillights pulls my attention outside. Someone stopped. If my heart still worked it would be racing. I straighten up. He keeps walking. He has to ask. I’ve tried with three others and no one asked. They just moved on. This one stops at the window.
“Hey. Do you need some help?” I’m crushed. This could be another failure. “Do you need help in there? Do you have a medical emergency?” Yeah, I’m dead. That’s my emergency. Before I drown back into despair, it happens. “Hey why don’t you open the window?” I put a finger onto the switch and it lowers. I smile and wait for the haze to leave the car. The night air wakes me from my mental state. His face cringes and, before he can run, I grab him.
I can hear his screams now. I start to walk, a little off the shoulder so no one could catch me. He keeps screaming into the night but he fades. I walk on, excited for my next chance to offer help. After a few miles of walking, two pinpricks appear on the horizon. They are red lights, blinking in rhythm. Someone is disabled on the roadside. I pick up my gait. I’m sure they could use help. I clasp my bone fingers together and laugh into the night.
TO COMMENT ON THIS STORY CLICK HERE
© Shaner, 2008
Matt is a writer outside of Philadelphia with influences ranging from H.P. Lovecraft to Paul Auster and Bret Ellis. He has publications in six online outlets including; Bewildering Stories.com, Twisted Tongue Magazine, Magazine of the Dead, Blood Moon Rising (upcoming), Clockwise Cat, and Residential Aliens.