Hour of Darkness

The Rider

...The Rider...





“Hey, big brother, I'm gonna be a little late.”





         Clarice Stuart controlled the Jeep's steering wheel with one hand while she pressed a cell phone to her ear with the other. “Got a late start.”





         Snowflakes hit the windshield as the wipers systematically swished them away. The Jeep's tires spit dirty slush as it sped down the rural highway. Towering evergreens, heavily burdened with snow, lined the highway, the tips swaying in a light wind.





         “Well hurry it up.” Aaron spoke through the phone. “Or all the pies will be gone when you get here. Besides, mom's about to go into panic mode. You know how she gets.”





         Clarice smiled. “Yeah, I know.” She said. “And hey, what're you doing, dipping into the desserts again? Mom'll kill you.”





         She could hear the grin in her brother's voice as he replied, “Only if she catches me.” A brief pause, then, “So what made you late?”





         Clarice stared at the slushy highway before her. Thicker snowflakes began to splatter on the windshield. “Bad dreams.” She said softly.





         “Thee bad dreams?”





         “Yeah.”





         “Have you talked to anyone about them?” Aaron asked gently.





         Clarice released a slow sigh. “You mean a shrink?” There was an edge to her voice that she knew wasn't warranted. “I'm not crazy, Aaron. I know what I saw.”





         A black street bike approached the Jeep from the rear, guided skillfully by a rider dressed in black, his face concealed behind a black helmet with a dark tinted face covering.





         “You were traumatized, Clarice.” Aaron said. “There wasn't anyone else there that night.”





         “Then explain to me what happened?” Clarice insisted. “How did both those guys end up dead? You and dad were out cold, and mom...” Clarice faltered at the memory of what almost happened to her mother. Something her mother never quite got over.





         “I don't know, sis.” Aaron admitted. “But people don't just disappear into thin air.”





         The street bike whipped into the opposite lane and sped around the Jeep.





         “I wasn't hallucinating.” Clarice spoke low. “I saw him. He was there. He knew my name, Aaron.”





         A pause, then, “I don't know what to tell you, sis.”





         “I still see his face.” She whispered. “And his eyes...” Like fireflies on a lake. She remembered thinking that. Even twenty years later, she still remembered thinking that.





         Slushy snow spit onto the Jeep's windshield as the bike whipped back into the lane in front of Clarice and zipped away, disappearing around a sharp bend. The windshield wipers smeared the slush, distorting her view of the road. Clarice pressed the washer button, squirting fluid onto the windshield.





         “Listen, Aaron.” Clarice said softly. “I'm sorry for bringing this all up now. Lets just forget about it and-” The phone crackled with static. “Aaron?” Clarice frowned. “Aaron, can you hear me? I'm breaking up.” She could barely hear Aaron's voice through the static. “I'll talk to you when I get there. I love you.”





         Static was all that answered her. She clicked the phone off and dropped it on the passenger seat.





         She guided the Jeep around the sharp bend in the road and reached for the radio as the Jeep came out of the bend, taking her eyes off the road briefly. When she looked up, she screamed and clutched the steering wheel with both hands and instinctively stomped on the brakes, realizing her mistake too late.





         The Jeep whipped back and forth on the slushy pavement and finally slid to a stop, angled on the shoulder of the road.





         Clarice  was still clutching the steering wheel in a death grip, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She stared wide-eyed at the black street bike parked sideways in the road a few yards away. The black clad rider was straddling the bike, looking in her direction.





         Clarice drew in deep breaths to calm her racing pulse. Good God, she almost hit him. What the hell was he doing parked in the middle of the road? Her intense fear at nearly dying instigated her rage.





         “Are you crazy!” She screamed at the rider from inside the Jeep. “You idiot!”





         The biker didn't move. He remained on his bike, watching her through his dark face plate. Clarice stared back at him, her heart still shuddering in her chest. Fear and uncertainty seeped through her bones. What was going on? Why was he just sitting there watching her? The tiny hairs at the nape of her neck prickled and sent shivers through her, giving her goose flesh arms.





         Suddenly, the rider dismounted and began walking towards the Jeep. Fear and panic snapped Clarice into action. She cranked on the ignition key, again and again. “Start dammit!” She screamed at the vehicle. The Jeep ignored her demands and refused to turn over. “Come on!”





         The rider was approaching in long strides, quickly closing the distance between them. Clarice's eyes jumped to the driver door. It was unlocked. She swiped quickly at the lock, but not quickly enough as the rider grabbed the handle and yanked open the door.





         Clarice turned away from him defensively, expecting the worst. “No!” God, what did he want? Was she going to die here, her body later found laying in a ditch full of dirty slush?





         The rider reached towards her.





         “No!” Clarice screamed. “Don't touch me!” She swung her fists as best she could in the confined space, hitting his chest and helmet, trying to fight him off. But it barely phased him as he shoved her against the back of the seat and held her there with one forearm then reached past her with his other hand and grabbed the cell phone off the passenger seat.





         Clarice breathed deep and heavy, fear etched on her face. “Wh-what do you want?” she cried thickly.





         “Your brother.” The rider spoke from behind the helmet as he thrust the phone at her. His voice was deep with a rough edge. Under other circumstances she might have found it appealing.





         “Please.” Clarice whispered. “Leave me alone.”





         “Call your brother!” The rider ordered harshly. “Now!”





         Clarice stared at him, confused, frantic. “What? I-I can't! I'm out of cell range!”





         The rider thrust his hand inside his jacket and produced a handgun. He pointed it at Clarice's head. “Call him now!”





         Her eyes wide and glued to the gun only inches from her head, Clarice's hands shook as she took the phone from the man's hand and turned it on. No service. Tears spilled down Clarice's face. “I-I told you, it doesn't work! Why-”





         The man snatched the phone from her hand and looked at it. “Dammit!” He raged and tossed the phone back inside the car. He headed back towards the bike with a fast, urgent stride. As he passed the front of the Jeep, he turned suddenly and brought up the gun.





         Clarice screamed and ducked.





         The rider squeezed off a shot, blowing out the right front tire of the Jeep. Another shot took out the left tire. He looked at Clarice through the windshield as she slowly raised up, eyes wide, cheeks wet with fresh tears.





         “Stay here.” He said and stuffed the gun back inside his jacket. He mounted the bike, started it, then spun the rear tire of the bike in a half circle, sending up a small rooster tail of slushy snow and sped away.





         Clarice sat trembling behind the steering wheel, watching the rider disappear down the highway. She gripped the steering wheel and tried to ward off a fit of shakes that threatened to overwhelm her. “What the hell?” She whispered unsteadily then reached for the cell phone, her hand shaking badly. She turned the phone on again. Still no service. She broke down crying. “No...”





______________________





The black street bike cruised slowly down a residential street past a neighborhood home with police cars lining the driveway and street, red and blue flashers strobing the night shadows. Cops patrolled the yard as onlookers crowded at the perimeter. The rider turned his head and surveyed the scene as the bike rolled past. The flashing squad car lights reflected and glinted off the shiny black helmet and face plate, vaguely illuminating the rider's face underneath. His face was hard, troubled.





         The bike rolled on past, picked up speed and disappeared down the dark street.