Fan Fears: A collection of fear based stories (14 page)

Even so, Reeves had done his job. Simple things like heights no longer scared her. She knew there were monsters in the world, real monsters with respectable appearances and wedding rings, monsters with simple contracts and a mastery of smoke and mirrors to achieve the desired results. Those things were what she feared now, and it was a fear she knew she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

SUBMITTED FEAR: HEIGHTS

FAN FEAR SEVEN:

DRIVE

(Submitted by Keith Parsons)

****

As the only male contributor in this book (completely by chance) Keith offered me a few different options about the things he hated / scared him. Rather than pick out one in particular, I decided to try and incorporate a couple of them into one story. This is a tale of misinterpretation, how right can ultimately lead to wrongdoing, and how even the best of intentions can turn out horribly wrong.

***

It was one of those perfect mornings for driving. Traffic was light, and the skies were blue. Keith loved days like this, when the roads were clear and traffic flowing well. He had the radio on, none of the modern stuff; he wasn’t sure what the appeal of it was. He listened strictly to the classics - 70's and 80's was his era- and he was crooning along with enthusiasm on his way to work. He was getting closer to his fifty-fifth birthday and had started to think about the future and retirement. His ideal scenario was to find somewhere away from the rat race, somewhere in the hills where he could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet and clean air instead of the constant hustle of New York. Today, at least, was a change of routine. He was not going to his office in Buffalo, but instead driving to Canada for a meeting with other supervisors and Department of Defence staff. It meant a break from the routine and monotony of his regular day, and he would, at least, get to see some open country. Canada was on the list of places he would maybe like to go live someday, maybe out in the wilderness in a log cabin. The meeting itself he wasn’t particularly excited about. It would be a room full of bored and jaded people just like him who didn’t want to be there but had no other choice in the matter. Even so, the change was good, and it meant he would, at least, see some different scenery to the usual. He changed lanes again to move past a slower moving station wagon, still singing along to the radio. Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N Roses was the song he was singing along to, and he was making an admirable attempt to match the power of lead singer Axl Rose as he made his way closer to his workplace.

The song finished and the enthusiastic and animated DJ was now taking calls from the public for some kind of competition. Keith wasn’t interested in that, so he turned the radio down and drove on for a few minutes in silence. The traffic had stopped at an intersection, and he stared out of the window. . He liked to drive, he liked the time to himself to think. Sometimes, there was nothing better than not having to make conversation, or at least that was true for the most part when traffic was moving. Now, as he stared at the chrome bodywork of the car in front as they waited to get moving again, he was feeling antsy.

He grabbed the Bluetooth headset off the passenger seat and put it on, then dialled Janet.

They had been together for thirty-five years and had seen the best and worst of each other during that time. They still had a great relationship even after so much time had passed, and he still loved hearing her voice. Just as the line connected, traffic started to move again.

"Hey, it's me," he said as he changed gear.

"Aren't you usually singing right about now?" Janet asked.

He smiled and signaled to change lanes. "Yeah, usually, but traffic is getting heavier and you know how much I hate sitting and waiting."

"Maybe it's for the best. I can’t imagine what the other commuters would say if they could see and hear you wailing away to yourself in an empty car."

"Very funny," he said, grinning as he completed the lane change.

"How are you feeling this morning? You were up and out before I had a chance to talk to you."

"Busy day today. I wanted to set out early to get the jump on traffic. It looks like everyone had the same idea, though. It's not as light as I'd hoped."

"Maybe it will be once you get into Canada. Are you making good time?"

He checked the clock on the dashboard. 

8:04AM

"Yeah, I’m pretty much on schedule. As long as the traffic doesn’t get much denser I’ll be okay I think."

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You sound tired."

"I’m alright," he replied, finally able to pick up a little momentum. "It’s just that I don’t get why we have to have these things. Those people don’t listen to me. Nothing will ever change. It's a pointless job."

"Yeah, well, you make sure you tell them who's boss."

"I will," he said, then considered not saying more. Before he could think too much, it slipped out anyway. "I've also been thinking about retiring, maybe taking it early."

"I thought we'd agreed you would stay on?" Janet said, her voice rising a little as it did when she was concerned.

"I know, it's just that I’m not getting any younger, and I want to enjoy these years."

"You're fifty-four, not ninety-four. There will be plenty of time to enjoy life. Besides, I thought you liked that job."

"I did - I do- it's just... I don’t know. I don’t feel like I have the energy to devote to it anymore. Working for the government is fine, the pay is decent it’s just.... I have no enthusiasm."

He waited, allowing her to process the information. He knew better than to rush her. He had come to a stop again at the toll point for the Peace Bridge, which would take him across the border into Canada. He waited in line and waited for Janet.

"Alright," she said. "We'll talk about it this weekend, okay? Weigh up our options, see how viable it is."

"It's not something I’m in a rush to do, just something I’m thinking about, that’s all," he said. He pulled up to the booth, paid the toll, then was moving again down Queen Elizabeth Way towards the bridge that would take him into Canada. He was grateful she understood his situation and was about to tell her so when he heard a symphony of car horns from behind him. He glanced in the wing mirror and saw the source of the noise. A black eighteen-wheeler was carving through traffic, causing other vehicles to swerve out of the way to avoid a collision. The huge chrome grille glittered in the morning sun, the lower section splattered with dry mud. It too was honking its horn but seemed unwilling to slow down. It weaved past waiting cars and smashed through the toll booth without stopping.

"What is it?" Janet asked.

"Some guy in a truck, he-"

His words were cut off as the truck thundered past, coming within inches of slamming into the back of the car. Even so, as it screamed past it obliterated the wing mirror and scraped the paintwork down one side.

"Keith? Are you alright?" Janet screamed as the sound filtered through to her.

"Some son of a bitch just hit the car," he said, feeling both shock and anger. He watched as the eighteen-wheeler veered across two lanes, the trailer swaying and threatening to break loose before finding purchase. He tried to get a glimpse of the plates, but it happened so quickly he didn’t catch them. Shock morphed into anger, and without thinking, he put the car into gear and gave chase, fully intending to make sure the driver knew what he had done.

TWO

"Are you okay? What's happening?" Janet asked, her voice shrill now in his ear.

"I’m fine," he said, changing gear and glancing at the spot where his wing mirror used to be. "He hit me and drove away. I’m going after him to get some details, insurance information at the very least He didn’t even stop for the bridge toll."

"Are you sure you're alright? You sound strange."

"I’m fine," he repeated. He knew that wasn’t strictly true, though. He was angry, and adrenaline was surging, willing him on to catch the rig which was still causing chaos ahead. He accelerated, allowing it to feed and control him. Normally, he would never have considered giving chase. He wasn’t a confrontational man. Even so, the driver of the truck had ruined his day and then attempted to flee the scene without stopping. It was one incident too far, one thing that pushed him a little further than he was prepared to allow for.

"Keith, will you talk to me? I’m worried about you." Janet said.

"I told you, I’m fine. This guy is all over the road. It's dangerous."

"Just leave it, don’t go after him, you never know what might be wrong with him. It could be drugs or... well just don’t do it."

Keith was barely listening. He was catching up to the truck, following in its wake of chaos. As he watched, it clipped the rear of another car, sending it spinning out of control and off the road.

"Keith, you better answer me."

"He might be hurt or something. The way he's weaving around, he might need some help."

"He'd stop if that were the case. You better not be chasing him down."

"I know what I’m doing," he said, driving past the spun out car and its furious driver standing by the rear of his vehicle and assessing the damage. He changed gear and pushed the car up to fifty, closing the distance to the weaving truck, which was now moving towards Peace Bridge. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he clipped a car there and sent it off the edge and into the Niagara River below.  He wasn’t prepared to let that happen, and even though he knew he would have to face Janet's wrath later, was prepared to do it in order to save lives. He was closing on the truck and its swaying trailer and knew this was the most dangerous part of the process. It would be easy for him to be clipped without the driver of the truck even knowing about it, not that he seemed to care by the way he was speeding towards the bridge. There was no divider lane on the bridge, just a single lane each way of traffic with nothing to separate the two. He tried to ignore the scenarios that played out in his mind about the truck drifting over and hitting those cars head on. There would only be one winner in that situation, and the unfortunate person in the car - perhaps on their way to work or to drop children off at school - would pay the ultimate price. More worrying than that, is that there was a footpath running down each side of the 5,800-foot long bridge. The potential for destruction was high on the steel framed bridge if the driver continued his chaotic and reckless driving style. 

"Keith, you can't just ignore me and hope I'll go away," Janet screamed in his ear.

"I’m not; just do me a favour, call the police, and tell them there is an eighteen-wheeler on the Peace Bridge heading towards the Canadian side. No plates that I can see but driving erratically. It's already caused numerous collisions and shows no sign of stopping."

"Keith-"

"Do it now Janet, please. I’m hanging up to deal with this, okay? Just call them." He pulled the earpiece off and tossed it on the passenger seat. The truck was now making its way around the curve and uphill to the bridge itself, the ground falling away from them to be replaced by the chilly waters of the Niagara River. Keith followed it, praying there were no pedestrians there yet. It was still early, and he held some small amount of hope. The eighteen-wheeler was now around the curve and on the bridge itself, Keith a few feet behind and catching. He watched as the truck weaved for a moment towards oncoming traffic, resulting in a series of alarmed car horns and vehicles slamming on their brakes. It then lurched the other way, towards the footpath and iron railings which led to the river. Keith watched as it mounted the curb and scraped along the railing, sending a shower of sparks behind it and leaving the railings twisted and bent, but still holding and stopping the truck from plunging over the side. It slewed back onto the road, and weaved past a slower moving car into the oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding hitting both. Keith acted without thinking. He planted his foot and started to pull alongside the trailer, deciding to drive on the path in the knowledge that if there were pedestrians, he could warn them and be prepared to stop. He was also aware, as he moved past the truck close to the huge wheels of the trailer and with the growling engine sounds filling his car, that he had made a barrier between himself and the water, something that he wasn’t sure was more dangerous or brave. In his head, he heard Janet chastise him. He glanced at the discarded headset on the passenger seat and hoped she had got through to the police. He had pulled alongside the cab now, surprised to see that the driver was on the side closest to him, the vehicle a right-hand drive truck. The driver was young, no more than early twenties, his face slick with sweat, blue eyes bulging. He glanced at Keith alongside him straddling the footpath and waved his arm.

"Move, get out of the way," he screamed.

Keith wasn’t sure what to do; the car was jostling around, the drop to the river to his right, the mass of the eighteen-wheeler on his right. He had transcended beyond fear to a new place where he was operating solely on instinct. "Stop the truck, you’re going to kill someone," Keith shouted back.

The driver of the eighteen-wheeler frowned at him and then moved closer to Keith's vehicle, the two separated by just inches. "I'll hurt you if I have to," the driver said, wiping a forearm against his head. He had blood on his hands.

"You need help, just let me-"

The eighteen-wheeler slammed into Keith’s car, pressing it against the railings. Sparks and glass exploded, and the high pitch scream of metal on metal blotted out any more words. Keith wrestled with the wheel, but there was nowhere to turn. He waited for the barrier to give way then to feel the sickening lurch in his stomach as he plunged to his death in the Niagara River, but somehow the barrier held. In the back of his mind, he asked himself why he didn’t just take his foot off the gas and had no answer that made rational sense. The eighteen-wheeler moved away and gave Keith a little breathing space. The wind rocked through the broken windows of the car and the windshield was cracked but he still kept pace with the driver.