by Jeff Kirvin
No, now was not the time. It was still to light out, and Daniel had too many witnesses. Now was not the time.
But the time would come.
Daniel sat in his apartment and poured over Rockport's checkbook. He'd looked through all the check stubs three times already and found nothing. The guy paid the same people over and over again like clockwork. Rent. Phone. Internet. Cable. Car payment. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Daniel hurled the checkbook across the room and sat back with a loud sigh. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just his imagination.
No, he thought, sitting up suddenly. It wasn't, at least not completely. Even if he did imagine the corpse walking away, he knew for sure that it wasn't in the car. Something happened.
Right?
Daniel got up and walked over to the phone. He paused to remember the number and dialed.
"Hello, is Tracy there?"
Tracy Klerk worked in the coroner's office. On a bad day, Daniel delivered more bodies to her than to the ER. He waited while she came to the phone.
"Klerk."
"Hi Tracy? It's Daniel Cho. I have a question about a delivery I made a few days ago. Big car wreck?"
"Yeah, I remember. No need for an autopsy on that one. What do you need?"
"One? There weren't two bodies?"
"Come on, Dan. I don't have time for your practical jokes. Do you have a question or not?"
"That was it. I thought there were two DOAs in that batch."
Tracy paused. “No, just the one. Poor schmoe got blindsided by some speed demon, if I remember properly."
Daniel didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. “Oh. Okay, thanks, Tracy."
"Any time, Dan.” She hung up.
Daniel put the phone down and stared at the walls of his apartment. His minimalist bachelor pad furniture began to take on dark and looming shapes.
I need some air, he thought.
Grabbing his car keys off of the end table, Daniel walked out of the apartment.
On the roof of the apartment building opposite Daniel's, the man Daniel wasn't sure was dead made note of Daniel's departure and disappeared into the night.
Out on the street, Daniel got into his car, a battered Ford Escort with a “Don't laugh, it's paid for” bumper sticker. He got onto 14th street and headed south for I395.
He'd heard stories about people who worked with trauma, doctors, firemen and the like. Sometimes, without noticing it consciously, they'd lost their ability to deal with the carnage day in and day out. Without warning one day they just reached the limit of human suffering they could handle, passed it, and snapped. Daniel wasn't sure it had happened to him, but a corpse walking away from the scene of an accident wasn't a good sign. He didn't know if his conversation with Tracy corroborated his story or not. Maybe he imagined it too.
How did you know if you were going mad?
Once on I395, he headed south, past Arlington (and the townhouse of a man who ought to be dead) and towards Springfield. Traffic was sparse and thinned out as he got closer to the junction with the Washington Beltway. He thought about stopping at Springfield Mall, but the last thing he needed was a throng of people. He stayed on the freeway as it merged with I95, thinking he'd turn around at Dale City. That would make it better than an hour's round trip back to his apartment, and the trip should do him good.
Traffic trickled down to almost nothing after he passed the mall, which made it all the more annoying that the jerk in the Buick was tailgating him. Daniel signaled right and changed lanes, expecting the other driver to pass on the left.
The Buick also shifted over to the right, if anything getting closer to Daniel's bumper. What was this guy's damage?
As if in answer to Daniel's silent question, the Buick nudged forward.
Thump!
Daniel swerved back to the left, the Buick close behind. Thump!
Daniel jerked the wheel back to the right and floored it, trying to get away, only to have the other car pull up effortlessly beside his dilapidated heap. He looked at the other driver and almost ran off the road. It was him.
Floyd Rockport. A dead man.
Daniel gassed it, pushing his car to its maximum speed of ninety-five miles per hour. Rockport kept pace, staying on Daniel's left. When Daniel looked over at him again, Rockport turned to face him and smiled.
Daniel wasn't sure it wasn't just a trick of the dim light, but the man's grin was ... inhuman. It seemed to literally stretch from ear to ear, full of endless gleaming teeth. Even worse were the man's eyes, but for a different reason. The grin didn't touch them. They were the same dead glass orbs Daniel remembered so vividly.
But he wasn't remembering now. Daniel hit the brakes just as Rockport swerved violently to the right, clipping Daniel's front left fender and damaging the wheel. Daniel went into an uncontrollable spin as Rockport raced away into the darkness.
Daniel tried steering back into the skid like he'd been taught in traffic school, but it was no use; the wheel was too far gone. The most he could do was force himself to go limp and hope the seatbelt held as he spun back left across the highway and collided with the concrete HOV barrier.
Daniel came to an indeterminate time later to the sound of sirens in the distance. There was broken glass everywhere, and he was sure he smelled blood, but the car wasn't on fire and he was still alive.
As he listened to the sirens coming closer, he also knew he had a new enemy. Whatever he knew, or whatever someone thought he knew, was worth killing for. It might be a good idea, Daniel mused, feeling the onset of shock, to find out why.
As soon as he saw the flashing red lights out of the corner of his eye, Daniel let the shock and darkness take him. It'd be easier to cut him out of the car that way.
Disintegration
After staying mercifully unconscious in the ambulance (he would have been compelled to make suggestions had he been awake), Daniel opened his eyes in a hospital bed. The first thing he saw was Herb's hulking form hovering over him.
"Hey, Danny boy! Welcome back to the land of the living!"
Daniel winced as he leaned forward and allowed Herb to shove an extra pillow behind his back to prop him up. He felt the coarse gauze of bandages on his head and arms. “Was it that bad?"
"Nah,” Herb said, pulling up a chair, “Few scrapes, a bump on the head. They're keeping you overnight in case you have a concussion. I tried to tell them what a tough guy you were, but you know doctors. You'll be a free man in the morning."
Relieved, Daniel leaned back and relaxed a bit. “Have the cops been by to get a description of the guy who hit me?"
Herb looked puzzled. “Hit you?"
"Yeah,” Daniel laughed uncertainly, “you think I did this to myself?"
"That's what you said, according to the hospital staff."
Daniel stared, incredulous.
"From what I hear,” Herb continued, “you came to in the ambulance on the way here and joked with the EMTs that you should know better than to drive fast and dangerous, considering your line of work. You never mentioned another driver.” Herb paused. “You don't remember?"
"I never said it! I was run off the road. Look at the damage to the car!"
"They tell me there's not much left after you hit the wall and they cut you out.” Herb put a comforting hand on Daniel's shoulder. “Danny, what do you remember?"
"I saw the guy that hit me.” Daniel told Herb the whole story, the apartment, the call to Tracy, the Buick, the grin, all of it. “I know it sounds nuts, but that's what happened. I wouldn't crash my car on my own. Someone tried to kill me!"
Herb moved his hand from Daniel's shoulder to check the bandages on his head.
"Dammit, Herb, I'm not imagining this!” Daniel exclaimed, slapping Herb's hand away. “I don't have a concussion, I'm not hallucinating and I never said a word in the ambulance!"
"I understand, Danny,” Herb said, failing to conceal that he didn't.
"Just leave me alone, okay? I'm tired. I
'm gonna get some sleep."
Herb stood up and walked to the door. He stopped and turned as if to say something, changed his mind and left without a word.
For someone being released from the hospital, Daniel felt decidedly unrested. His concussion was mild enough for him to go home first thing in the morning. Herb had offered to pick him up, but Daniel told him not to bother. He was still ticked off that no one seemed to believe him.
As the mandatory wheelchair let him off outside the hospital's front door, Daniel hailed a cab. Once he gave the driver his address, he sat back and tried to puzzle out what was going on, something he'd been too worn out to do the previous night.
The impossible grin (which may have been a trick of the light) notwithstanding, Daniel had to assume everything he'd seen was real. Everything parsed too well not to be connected. But what did it mean?
He saw a man walk away from what should have been a fatal wound. He tracked down the man's apartment, only to find it ransacked with the computer (and dishes, apparently) stolen. After Daniel verified that the guy didn't show up at the morgue, he shows up on the highway and tries to smear Daniel into the HOV barrier.
Daniel shook his head as the cab pulled up to his building. It just didn't make any damn sense. There had to be more to it, and he had to find out what, before someone came along and finished the job they'd started last night.
As Daniel ascended the stairs and entered the utilitarian sparseness of his apartment, he noticed the light on his answering machine flashing. He pressed the playback button and walked to the kitchenette to get a glass of water.
"Daniel?” called the recorded voice of his boss, Robert Taylor. “I know you're on vacation, but you'd better get in here ASAP. We need to talk."
The machine beeped, signaling the end of the messages.
Now what the hell was that all about?
"This is bullshit.” Daniel sat in Rob Taylor's office, not believing what he was hearing.
"I don't buy it either, Daniel,” Rob said, casually sitting on the edge of his desk and trying to look placating and supportive. “But, I'm told they have evidence. There is proof—"
"Alleged proof,” Daniel amended.
"Alleged proof that you took liberties of a sexual nature with an unconscious patient."
"Dammit, I'm not a rapist!"
"I didn't say you were.” Rob leaned in closer to Daniel. “I believe you. For the record, I'm going to bat for you and officially denying these charges.” Rob paused, looking for confirmation that he was making the right call.
Daniel was speechless. This came completely out of left field. He didn't even remember the patient in question. He thought it had to be some kind of bureaucratic mix up or a fraudulent claim scam, and said as much to Rob.
"I know, Daniel. You're probably right.” Rob hesitated, the way he did before delivering bad news. “You realize, however, that I have to put you on suspension pending the investigation."
Daniel started to jump out of his chair, but Rob put up a restraining hand. “Once the charges are dismissed, and I'm sure they will be, you're back on the job. Until then—"
Daniel got up to leave. For what it's worth,” Rob called out as Daniel opened the door, “I'm sorry."
Daniel slammed the door on his way out.
"Danny, I just heard—"
"I don't want to talk about it, Herb."
Daniel was taking what few personal belongings he had in his locker and putting them in a crate. Herb just stood by, silent.
"Fine,” Daniel said, slamming a jacket into the crate. “You want to hear me talk about it? Good, let's talk. I'm being set up. This a bogus claim, Rob knows it, and he's hanging me out to dry."
"Who would do this, Danny?"
Without any defensive anger from Herb to feed off of, Daniel deflated and slumped against his now empty locker. “I don't know for sure, but I have an idea. I think it has something to with that guy I saw walking away from the crash, the same guy that tried to run me off the road."
Daniel saw a look of poorly concealed pity in Herb's eyes.
"Oh, that's right, you don't believe that, either,” Daniel said, tensing up again. “Hell, maybe I did rape that poor girl and just don't remember it. I seem to be wrong about everything else that's happened to me!” He grabbed the crate and stormed out.
"Danny, wait!” Herb called, but it was too late. Daniel was gone.
Daniel stepped onto the impound lot where what was left of his car was being held. It was bad enough that he was being set up at work, but to have this happening at the same time was intolerable. He had no memory at all of the girl in question, and he knew what happened on the road. The timing of it all was too perfect for there not to be a connection. The question was, who was doing it to him, and why?
He hoped his car still held some answers. As he walked over to it, he could see what Herb meant by “not much left.” The heap was totaled; he didn't need a claims adjuster to tell him that. No body panel was left unscathed, and the driver side door was missing altogether, a side effect of his rescue. The left front wheel, the one hit by the other car, was missing.
Daniel knelt next to the left front fender. Amongst the faded blue of his own car, he could make out streaks of brown paint ground into the dented metal. That should prove he was hit, provided he could find someone to believe him.
Disbelief
"Thanks for coming, Herb.” Daniel and Herb were walking back onto the impound lot. Daniel was feeling a lot better. Once Herb saw the paint he'd have to believe Daniel's version of things, and Daniel trusted Herb to go to bat for him once he knew the whole story.
"It's over this way,” Daniel said, leading Herb to the car.
Or where the car had been. Daniel saw only an empty space where the wreckage of his car should be. “It was right here, I swear!"
Herb just looked at him.
"Dammit, Herb, I'm not making this up! They're doing it to me again!” He took off towards the office.
"They who?” Herb asked, falling into step beside Daniel.
"The same people that ran me off the road, the same bastards that trumped up those charges against me!"
They reached the office and Daniel almost ripped the door off its hinges on the way in. “Where the hell's my car?"
The man behind the desk, short, black and fiftyish, looked up in surprise. “Which car?"
"Blue Escort, totaled, towed in here a few days ago,” Daniel hissed. “Where is it?"
The man nodded. “Ah, that car. It's over by the crusher."
"You're going to crush it?"
"We already did."
Herb put a restraining hand on Daniel's shoulder. “Under whose authorization?” he asked in a much more civil tone than Daniel could have managed.
"The owner,” the man said, rummaging through his desk. He found the slip of paper he was looking for and held it out for Daniel to see. “Here it is,” he said. “A Mister Daniel Cho."
Daniel started to lunge at the man, but Herb put his not inconsiderable bulk in the way. “Not here, Danny,” he whispered.
Without another word, Herb ushered Daniel out the door. Once they were outside, Daniel's feigned composure evaporated.
"Damn!” he exclaimed, slamming a fist down on a battered heap. “They did it to me again!"
Herb tried to lead Daniel back to the street, where they'd left Herb's car.
"I bet that bastard's in on it too,” Daniel continued. “But why? Why are they out to get me?"
He shouted back to the office. “I'll find out! You won't get me without a fight!"
Once they got to the car, Herb, much more solemn than usual, motioned Daniel to get in.
"Well, thanks anyway for coming.” Daniel said as they pulled into traffic.
Herb didn't reply.
"Just drop me off at my apartment, if that's okay. Sorry about getting you mixed up in all this.” He paused. “You still don't believe me, do you?"
"I believe that you believe it."
/>
Looking out the window and paying attention to the scenery for the first time, Daniel realized they were heading away from his apartment. It looked like they were heading towards the hospital. “Herb, where are we going?"
"I think I know somebody who can help you."
Daniel's jaw dropped. “You think I'm nuts, don't you?"
"I never said that."
"I expected better from you, Herb, I really did. I thought I could trust you, that you were my friend.” Daniel began slowly unfastening his seatbelt.
"I am your friend, Danny! That's why I'm trying to help. If I didn't care, you'd probably be in jail right now for assaulting that poor man!"
A truck darted into traffic in front of them, forcing Herb to slam on his brakes.
"Care about this,” Daniel said as he threw open the door and leapt from the car. Gridlocked, Herb could only watch helplessly as Daniel ran down the street, turned a corner, and disappeared.
After locking the door and peering out the window to make sure he wasn't followed, Daniel picked up his phone. He still knew someone he trusted implicitly. He dialed the number from memory and waited for the other end to pick up.
"Hello, Mom?"
"Daniel!” called the voice at the other end of the line. “How are you?"
Daniel felt intense relief just hearing his mother's voice. “Not so good, Mom. Got time to talk?” Daniel's parents owned a vegetarian grocery in San Francisco, and sometimes it got pretty busy.
"I always have time for my favorite son,” his mother replied. Not to mention your only son, Daniel thought. His two sisters still lived in San Francisco near his parents. Kathy, two years Daniel's junior, worked in the store while Samantha was still in college at twenty-one. Ronald and Delores Cho had wanted Daniel to take over the family business, but he needed more excitement. Careful what you wish for, he thought.
"Can you hang on a minute?” his mother asked.
"Sure."
He heard his mom talking to his dad and then the sounds of the store faded away as his mother moved the phone into the stockroom. “Go ahead, son."
"Mom, I know this is going to sound crazy, but just hear me out. It's important you know the whole story.” Daniel set about telling her everything that had happened to him over the course of the past week, including the impossible details. When he finished, the line was silent.
