The Midnight Driver

The country lent a certain special blackness to the night air. It was hard to see more than three feet, despite the clear light of the millions of stars in the sky overhead. But the air was crisp on the side of Highway 56 - it went into my lungs without any of the overbearing heat of the dry daylight hours.

Every once and a while a car would come running by on the badly kept road. I did my best to ignore them, but the bright lights were blinding when they came my way. They left me tripping on the now invisible rocks of the desert floor until my eyes took thirty slow minutes to adjust back. I'm ashamed to say it, but I developed a sincere hatred of cars and their drivers in the span of only two hours that night.

Walking home on a night like this may not have been my best idea - since I was just one ragged looking man shambling on the side of an old route. Contrary to popular opinion around Mercy, New Mexico, I did own a car. It was just that I dreaded using it.

I guess I really wasjust an old hippie, but I hated how it harmed the environment. Every time I drove my truck I could almost feel the already scarce plant life wilting around me. Then I would flash back to one of the dozens of books I had read on carbon emissions, and realize I was being one serious hypocrite. After that point, it was never long until I drove the rust bucket straight back home.

I parked the old Chevy in the garage, shut the door, and set out on foot for where ever I was headed. I never did go too far from home, so it wasn't much of a problem. Nor could I afford one of the fancy new cars that, at least supposedly, gave out less pollution.

So, being born obstinate, I decided I would start walking everywhere I could make it. This included the town of San Marquez, where Jacob Garner lived with his wife Gertrude. We were close back when we used to all work at the same garage together. I visited them maybe once every two months to grab a few beers and some old fashioned-type chili. It was a pleasurable enough time, especially since neither of them criticized the admittedly odd way I lived my life.

Far as I was concerned, my values were my own business.

In any case, I had walked the four hour trip this morning, and now I had to journey the same distance back home. Only I had stayed far too late this time - resulting in the current trek back at midnight.

I ran a hand through my scraggly beard in frustration. Nights in the desert were cold as anything, and the days were hotter than hell.

But it was home.

It had always been home.

So where else would I have gone? Where else would I have spent my tired life, if not in Mercy?

Damned if I knew, now or then.

"shit" I cursed under my breath as I stubbed my toe against a particularly sharp rock. I saw a black shadow slither away from it's surface, a gecko disturbed by my human lack of grace.

As I continued to ramble on down my path, I started to think. The hum of the insects and the slitherings of the snakes makes for the perfect kind of silence. My focus was sharpening with every step, until it all seemed clear as the wind cutting through my light jacket.

But I was broken from that serenity by the growl of an oncoming car. I could hear it's sound, then feel it's rumble, and finally see the glean of far off artificial lights. They illuminated the world ahead with a strange kind of glow - seeming ghostly and unnatural.

Closer and closer the thing came, until I could tell it was one of the new high end BMW's. Even though I had given up being a mechanic decades ago, I could still tell a rich man's car when I saw one. The paint job was shiny to the point of mirror-like reflection. This way the owners could have one more place to see themselves - check that everything was presentable for their constant audience. Fix up that demure lipstick, straighten out that hundred dollar black tie.

The unexpected thing was that it began to slow as it's headlights came closer and closer towards my tired body. I already felt a wave of suspicion, since these sorts never stopped to pick up ragged hitchhikers.

Never once in my time had one of these sort stopped to do anybody any good.

I squinted hard as the hulking machine's brakes squealed before coming to a dead stop in the middle of the road. The black front door was less than a foot away from my chest as I saw the driver's side window slowly going down.

My hand immediately went to touch the old survival knife I kept in my jacket pocket. It's sharp, serrated blade was reaffirming.

"Hey there sir, you need a ride?" Said the firm jawed man sitting inside. He wore a crisp dark red business suit with black pinstripes. The collar of his white shirt was a perfect angle.

"No, no I'm fine walking" I replied as I started to set off again down the road. I didn't have the time to even set my foot down before the stranger offered again.

"Are you sure? It's supposed to drop below 40 degrees later tonight"

He said with a smooth voice.

"Yep, I'm sure, but thanks all the same."

Once again, not even another step down the road.

"I really wouldn't feel alright leaving you out here, sir. I wouldn't want another man's death on my hands, if you know what I mean. Look, I'm in no hurry. I'll take you where ever you want to go, alright? It's no problem."

I had to admit that my feet were hurting from the distance, and it was getting a bit too cold for comfort. I didn't feel right about the strange man in the nice car, though. There was something serpentine about his friendly smile. But what choice did I have? Take him up on his offer, or spend the next two hours walking in the cold.

"Thanks" I mumbled while getting into the leather passenger side seat. The whole car wreaked with the stranger's spiced cologne.

The stranger with black slicked back hair just smiled and gave a slight nod, never taking his eyes from the road. Funny, I realized he had never looked directly at me during the whole altercation.

Real funny.

"I'm headed to Mercy, just a couple miles down the road. Take a right onto exit 66."

The stranger said nothing as he started up the car with a roar.

My skin was starting to crawl. There was something incredibly wrong - but I had no idea what. It was like my whole body was telling me to get away - but from what?

Trying to ease my discomfort, I asked if I could turn on the radio. The man said nothing, and didn't even take his eyes off the road to look me in the face. I went out on a limb and reached for the dial anyway.

After a few minutes of trying to pick up a station - I realized the thing didn't work at all. It was only a piece of equipment stuck to the dash for show.

My agitation only increased as we neared the sign for exit 64.

"You...You uh, can just let me off here."

No response. Not even a movement from the driver.

I stared at him, and saw that not even his chest was rising underneath that suit. He was as immobile as a corpse.

My palms started to sweat, especially the one which was grasping the handle of the knife inside my pocket.

I held up the watch on my left wrist to see the time - when a reflection on it's surface made my eyes grow wide. Outside the passenger window I saw we were nearing exit 65.

In the most desolate stretch of that part of the highway, I held my breath before flinging open the door of the moving car. The last thing I heard was an ungodly hiss - one that I like to pretend came from the sound of the car's breaks on the asphalt.

My body slammed against the ground with a bone shaking force as I rolled out into the hard dirt. Rocks bruised my limbs and cut at my exposed face. It didn't matter - the second I could, I got up with a speed I didn't think I was capable of anymore. Then, I ran.

I ran until I was a mile from the road. I ran until my legs were so sore they were shaking with every foot fall. I ran until collapsing in a heap on my own front porch.

The thing I saw in that watch face - it scares me to this day. The black, skeletal pits where there should have been eyes. Shrunken spots in the creatures skull - a disgusting perversion of a human face. Sharp teeth that protruded from tight white lips.

A demon - a ghost - a sickening monstrosity.

Since that day, I admit, I have never left my shack. I always knew there were foul creatures in the desert, but it had never occurred to me they would try hiding in plain sight.

Never once in my time had one of these sort stopped to do anybody any good.