One Bad Night

by Jason Davis

  Rodney swerved back into the middle lane, then signaled that he was moving to the right lane. There wasn’t much of a shoulder, but he had to stop and make sure the other driver was all right. He needed to report the accident. He needed to-

  “You’re dead…”

  The voice seemed to echo in his cab, a deep rumble that shook through the speakers and carried a touch of ice with it. It took Rodney a moment to figure out that it had come from the CB.

  “Hey, man. Sorry. You okay? I’m coming back to see if everything’s all right.”

  He stopped the truck on the side of the road. He was still half in the right lane, but it was as far off the road as he could get. He put on his flashers and had started to climb out the driver’s door when he thought he heard heavy breathing coming through his speakers. The breathing grew in intensity, slowly forming into a primordial growl.

  He thought about getting on the CB and calling back to the driver, but the sound frightened him. That was stupid. The driver was probably just shaken up or in shock. Rodney had to go back and make sure the man was all right, then report it.

  There was definitely no way he would make it home for his daughter’s birthday now. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up delayed by the cops for most the night. Worse yet, what if someone was really hurt and they decided to lock him up?

  His shoes hit the loose gravel and rock that had fallen from the canyon walls around him, crunching as he started walking back. Damn curve of the road made it hard to see just where the tanker was, but he could hear the rumbling of the engine. It was getting closer…or was that just the echo from the walls around him? It was hard to tell.

  Then he got blinded as the driver from the tanker turned every light on. The jerk didn’t just turn on his lights and brights, but had turned on his fog lights, as well. He also had a row of lights across the top of the truck, but they weren’t regular lights. They were spotlights, and Rodney was caught in their blinding intensity.

  He felt like a deer, but it took a second for that thought to kick in. He heard the sound of the truck getting closer, but with so much light, he had just stopped there.

  When he realized what was happening, he moved quickly, barely making it between his truck and trailer, hiding in that little gap as the tanker roared by. Its air horn blew, the closeness causing everything around him to shake. He heard something shatter, but held onto the air lines as he tried to catch his breath.

  Even when everything quieted, Rodney was afraid to move. His vision danced with circles of light, and he had to count to thirty before the darkness settled around him. There were still purple and green spots swirling, but he felt he could see enough to poke his head out.

  All he saw was dark interstate. No cars passed, and the other truck was gone.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the air lines hold him up, focusing on his breathing.

  What the hell is that guy’s problem?

  Slowly, he eased out and kept a watchful eye for semis emerging out of nowhere to run him down. He started to think staying awake wouldn’t be an issue, but heart attacks? Those were becoming a growing concern. Damn…

  $ $ $ $

  Rodney eased his truck to the top of the hill, although in the darkness and with the mountain walls on each side, it was hard to tell he was at the top. If his truck hadn’t started to speed up and he quickly had to shift out of fifth gear, he might not have known. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe this was just a brief respite before continuing to climb.

  Then the wall on his passenger side fell away to a deeper darkness, his headlights no longer reflecting off the dull rock. Up ahead, he saw the sign warning that the was coming up on a 7% downgrade, then another sign telling all trucks to exit into the brake check area.

  He hated pulling off. It was just more time wasted, and he knew he had a pretty light load…only thirty thousand pounds. His brakes weren’t worn, so there shouldn’t be anything to check.

  But if he didn’t pull in and there was a bear hiding, it would take longer to get written up than just pulling in for a few minutes to check everything out. And it never hurt to check. Five minutes to check his brakes, then if something was wrong…

  But nothing is ever wrong. This is such a waste of time.

  He put on his turn signal and listened to the engine brake idle him down. He missed the days when it was an unmuffled roar. Now it sounded like a little whimper as it slowed him down.

  He pulled into the little parking lot, his attention immediately focusing on the tanker truck.

  “Yeah, I got you now, you son of…”

  He could feel the heat rise as his heart pounded. The tanker was parked in the far stall, away from the one light hanging from a wire overhead. He was nearly hidden in the shadows, just sitting there. Rodney didn’t see anyone walking around, no light from a flashlight as if the driver was actually checking his brakes. Nothing. The whole area was still.

  He set the brakes and climbed out of his rig. He hadn’t planned on doing anything more than just a quick walk around, checking his own trailer for any smoking brakes, not that there would be. He had been going uphill. The whole thing was pointless.

  But when his shoes crunched on the gravel of the parking lot, the image of that truck rushing past him flashed in his memory. He could still see the inside flap on his semi, his heart leaping into his throat as he tried not to scream.

  Before he knew it, he had his long-barreled flashlight in hand, walking toward the truck. This wasn’t him. He was not a fighter, but for that one brief moment as he gripped the flashlight, his knuckles going white, he couldn’t see himself being any other type of person. The anger was a rumbling pot of boiling water.

  He reached the driver’s door and pounded on it, stepping back, waiting for the man to climb down.

  The night was still around him. The light shining behind him was far enough away that he felt like he was on the edge of everything good in the world. He was near the shadows, on the verge of that darkness threatening to overtake him. He felt the chill of it, a coldness reaching up inside him.

  His grip on the flashlight loosened as he faced a man he didn’t want to be. Already ashamed about missing her birthday, could he go home and tell his daughter how he had beaten a man senseless? He could see himself doing it, too. That anger was on the fringe, begging him for control.

  He looked down at the flashlight. It wasn’t there to light his way and he hadn’t brought it to. He wasn’t even holding it right. He had gripped it more like a club, ready to bring that heavy barrel down on the man’s head.

  He took a step back.

  This wasn’t him.

  He took another step away from the tanker.

  He flicked the light on, letting the beam light the way back to his truck. He didn’t bother walking around to check his brakes. There weren’t any D.O.T. officers hiding up there, and he had enough. The night had turned into a nightmare and he just needed to get it over with. Getting down this hill was the first stretch in a long, exhausting run, and he just needed to do it.

  He put the truck into gear and slowly drove past the other. The windshield was covered in dirt and grime, making it impossible see in, even if there were light to do so. Even still, he swore he could feel the glare, like someone was watching him.

  Good. Let the jerk look all he wants. He’s not going to get the best of me.

  Rodney had just turned on his blinker, preparing to merge back onto the interstate, when he heard the crackle and hiss of his CB. Then a low, rumbling laugh built until a deep, raspy voice said, “I’m coming for you, tough guy. You should have come in. We could have had a nice little conversation.”

  Rodney shifted into another gear, not realizing he was accelerating faster than he should. He was already in fifth gear, but he wasn’t watching his speed, his focus locked on the lighted display of the CB.

  “You were all big and bad with that flashlight. Why didn’t you open the door? I had it unlocked, waiting for you.”


  Rob heard the whine of his engine and tore his eyes from the CB, looking at his gauges. His RPMs were high, nearing two thousand, and he was doing nearly sixty-five in eighth gear. He should be upshifting, but that wasn’t right. He was on that damn hill. He was losing it.

  “Come on, man. Pay attention to what you’re doing,” he cursed to himself, slowly applying his brakes. It wasn’t like in a car. He couldn’t just push on the brake pedal and slow down to the speed he wanted to go. This was a thirty-five thousand pound vehicle with another thirty thousand pounds in his load. He had to slowly, gingerly push down on the brake pedal, bring it down five to ten miles per hour, then let off for a few seconds, hoping the engine brake would keep it from gaining too much more speed before he applied the brakes again. It was a process, and it wasn’t simple. This was where accidents happened. He had to keep paying attention or he would lose control.

  “I told you, you’re a dead man,” the driver said, his voice barking out a vicious laugh as he said it. Again, Rodney felt like he could feel the driver’s eyes on him. He chanced a look back through his driver’s side mirrors.

  What the hell is this guy’s problem? There’s road rage, but this guy is talking about killing me!

  He didn’t see anything in the mirror, then narrowed his eyes. Was that a shape farther back? Could it be the tanker? If the truck were still parked at the brake check area, he should be getting out of CB range soon. There weren’t any lights on the interstate behind him, but was that a tanker truck with its lights off? It was so dark back there, but sometimes there was just a brief glint, like the moonlight shining on something metallic.

  Rodney slowed to downshift into seventh gear. Releasing the clutch, the engine brake roared to life, now in such a low gear, it would slow the truck without much work. He could start to breathe a little easier, maybe even relax.

  The CB crackled. “Peekaboo,” the voice rasped, back to that cold, flat menace that shook his cab.

  Rodney looked in his side mirror just in time to see the bright lights fill the night, reflecting on the canyon walls, blinding in his mirror. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. The tanker was approaching fast.

  Come on. There is no way this guy is actually going to hit me.

  But he was coming faster, getting closer.

  This only happens in movies. This isn’t possibly happening to me.

  He took a chance and upshifted, not liking the idea that he was going to be speeding up on the downgrade. He took his eyes off the mirror. He had seen a sign just a second ago about an upcoming curve. He needed to watch for it before the other truck slammed him into it.

  Rodney was glad he did as the lines turned to the left. He put his weight into the turn, his truck lurching forward from the shift, the engine brake straining at the high idle. It didn’t like the higher gear, and he tried to caress his foot on the brake to keep it manageable. He felt like he was fighting a losing battle, though. He knew it was getting away from him. He hoped like hell that his load wasn’t shifting in the back.

  “Run, little mouse. Run.”

  He reached up and fumbled to turn off the CB, but he wasn’t looking. He turned the wrong knob and the cab filled with static, hissing and popping as he kept his attention on the road.

  He dared a glance back, seeing the tanker falling back.

  He gasped in relief, letting it out in a long sigh as he made it through the curve of the road. When he felt his truck starting to slow, he knew he had made it to an incline. He took another breath, trying to slow his heart.

  As the road straightened and he started climbing, he enjoyed the slowing of the truck. When it reached the point to downshift, he did, knowing the tanker behind him was going to fall farther back. Thank goodness for the heavier weight of whatever the other driver hauled.

  He looked in his mirror and watched the driver behind him turn off all his lights.

  Great. Now what is he doing?

  “You can run, but you can’t hide from me, mouse.”

  Rodney reached up to the CB, finding the right knob this time. He turned it off and sighed in relief as the light faded from the display.

  The truck would keep falling back, so he had a few minutes, but that wouldn’t last. He had to call the authorities, but what was he going to tell them? There was another trucker making threats? When he thought about it, it seemed like a pretty weak reason to call the local police. If he called them, he would probably be pulled over, too, then put through a level one inspection, which could tie him up for another four to six hours.

  Screw it. He reached forward and grabbed his phone from the cradle on the dash. He unlocked it, punched in 911, and brought it to his ear, not taking the time to connect his Bluetooth. Laws be damned. He took deep breaths as he checked his side mirrors again, trying to see if there was any sign of the other truck.

  It seemed like the night just swallowed it up. There had been plenty of moonlight before, but now it was just darkness, a sea of black. He could barely see any of the canyon walls, his trailer only visible in the mirror by the small dot of light marking its end. Even that seemed far away.

  He looked back at the miles of road stretching out before him, his lights shining into the endlessness, a yellow and white line disappearing into the night.

  Suddenly, it hit him. His phone wasn’t ringing.

  He pulled it away from his ear, using that hand to upshift, the screen lighting up in the dark cab. When he got the truck into gear, it lurched forward as he pulled his phone up to look at the now dark screen. Damned thing. He swiped it again and looked to see it was just as he feared. No signal. These damned mountains always played hell with cell reception. He didn’t think the cell companies even tried to expand their coverage out there because it was never there when he needed it.

  Can you hear me now? No? Well, get out here and get me some service!

  Suddenly, he was slammed forward. The phone flew out of his hand, hit the windshield, and disappeared on the other side of the cab. He hoped the screen would have some light, but once it was out of sight, there was no trace of it.

  He didn’t try too hard to look for it as his gaze locked in on the road ahead of him. He took a second to glance in his mirror. He already knew who was there, but it was instinctive. However, just taking his eyes off the road made the truck jerk in that direction, his hands pulling with the motion. He fought it, keeping the truck straight, but before he managed to look back, the burst of speed diminished. He had the sudden feeling of being pulled back. His seat belt felt like it had tightened, but he knew that was impossible. The force that had been pushing him back against his seat now had him leaning forward against the restrictive belt.

  He took a second to breathe. There was that shimmer of hope deep within him that tried to say everything was okay, but what had just happened? He thought he had heard the sound of screeching metal and two heavy objects slamming against each other. That couldn’t have been, could it?

  As he tried to take a deep breath and think about what was going on, he became blinded by light. It was like the sun was speeding alongside his truck, coming from behind, quickly moving around to his left side. Then a sonic boom of sound echoed through the cab, rumbling into his skull.

  The truck shook again, forcing him to jerk hard to the right. Rodney had to grip the steering wheel hard as it threatened to twist out of his hands. He fought with it, putting his weight into it. He ground his teeth, fighting to keep it from slamming into the rock wall.

  Suddenly, the sound of screeching metal diminished and the force released him. The truck swayed under the new freedom, going left, then he compensated and it went back to the right. He could now hear the whining of the engine as he idled high, the truck going faster than he should.

  He upshifted and flipped the switch for the engine brake. The engine roared, but he could feel the pull as it tried to slow him. He eased down the brakes, as well, but the weight kept shifting as he fought to gain control of the truck.

  It wa
s hard to see the speedometer or RPMs, but he still heard the whine. The light was so bright, the tanker truck staying on his left side, keeping pace. The light penetrated when he glanced to the left, shooting needles through his eyes.

  He straightened the truck, gaining control as he slowed. Rodney realized it was slowing faster than the engine brake was able to. It got so low, he had to downshift.

  He risked glancing out the driver’s side mirror. The tanker truck fell back when he started to go up another hill. Thank God.

  Stars danced across his vision when the lights were no longer close enough to blind him. They were still annoying, but not something he couldn’t deal with.

  That was it. This had to end. What the hell was this guy’s problem? Doing this kind of crap was going to get them both killed or, at the very least, hurt. No, both of them dying was almost a certainty. Semis were not toys. These rigs were meant to be driven by professionals, not testosterone driven jerks who were just big kids playing with powerful toys.

  Rodney switched the CB back on. He had to downshift again as they continued to climb, the tanker falling further behind.

  “What the hell’s your problem? It was an accident. I said I’m sorry. If you want to pull over, we can have words. You can kick my teeth in, do whatever to make you feel better, but if not, just let it go, man.”

  Rodney clipped the mic back to the side of the CB and focused back on the road. The hill seemed to be longer than the previous two had been. He only had to downshift down to fifth gear, holding steady just below thirty miles per hour, the night seeming to drone on with the endless hum of the engine. Nothing responded on his CB, and his engine was a subtle rumble that threatened to put him to sleep. He had no idea how long he had been going up before he saw the yellow sign up ahead that marked another 7% downgrade coming up.

  His chest grew tight. It was time to see if the driver was going to back off or not. He wished he had his cell phone. If he could get a call out to 911, maybe they could get someone out there. He didn’t care what problems it caused him. At least this psycho wouldn't be after him and he would be alive.