Passenger of the Night

by Nathaniel Barrett

Part 1 appears in this issue.

conclusion

The highway extended long down south. I sped through thick packets of traffic while double-checking the exit signs I’d seen on my first drive through. Although at this point, I wanted to get to the southern edge of Route 13 as fast as possible.

Far above the highway, the moon rose to the top of the same path it always traveled at night, and the high-rises eclipsed the rest of Glowshrine. Stray lights from the skyscrapers were the only source of radiance protecting the road from total darkness. They stayed on throughout the night for the office workers stuck on the night shift. I felt a hole in my gut for the folks up there; my situation really wasn’t any different from theirs before tonight began.

Once again, I had been driving straight for so long that I slipped into another daze. The next few moments felt unreal on the old highway. I thought about my parents, then Raul, then my parents again, and finally about what death would be like should I fail. I struggled for my life, yet tried to downplay fate as I drove on. The road felt like a long dream, one where I wouldn’t be able to wake myself up and get out of it.

All a dream, until another decision disrupted it. Thirty-two minutes had passed since I turned onto Route 13 South, and I reached a second intersection. This time, it funneled out only left and right, to the east and west of Interstate 1, a highway that led out of Glowshrine but that I was unfamiliar with.

I immediately took a right on red and went east. I wanted to maintain the illusion I still had a life to save time for. The night grew darker, and the luminescent hum of Glowshrine faded out behind me.

As the car drifted eastward, I looked up at the rear-view mirror. Raul’s face had turned green, and it swelled to a rocky texture. His mercurial fingernails drummed upon my seat cushion.

“Geraldo, Geraldo, Geraldo. How could a single forest be so difficult for such an experienced driver to find? You’re about to lose that tip, pal.”

“W-why do you even want to go there?”

Raul smirked. His green chest inflated, and his t-shirt ripped apart. “You really believe Glowshrine will just accept me like this? No, they’ll treat me like a freak. They’ll cast me off to the feds for experimentation and put me on the news to be gawked at by hopeless people.”

The traffic picked up around us. An orchestra of horns flared into the night.

“What the hell do you even want from me then? Why can’t you just run off by yourself?” I asked while I swerved around and almost hit other vehicles.

“Geraldo, I want you to live. You’re rotting inside of this coffin, and I came to see if I could pull you out of it. Consider me a necromancer of sorts, the only difference being that I’m willing to leave some things dead. And, oh yeah, make sure you tell your undertaker to put deodorant on you next time before he sends you six feet under. Because you smell like garbage.”

Silence filled the following minutes. During this time, Raul’s chest and legs stretched to touch the cab walls, and I was scared he would flip the vehicle on its side.

Soon after, when I jammed on the brakes to avoid rear-ending the car ahead of me, Raul said: “We’re both freaks, Geraldo. Freaks, failures, and fugitives.”

“You’re the one who’s trying to kill me!”

Raul laughed so hard he belched. “No, I’m the one with the balls to risk my life in a stranger’s car in order to save him. Besides, there isn’t anywhere else for me to be. All I want to do is mutate.”

When Raul said that, I realized then what bothered me the most was not my own dangerous driving, nor even the prospect of Raul’s violence, but how the monster behind me actually had a valid point. I tried to think of a response to what Raul told me, because something about his logic felt wrong. But in moments of hell, one loses the ability to really think those kinds of things over. All they’ve got are the strange directions people point them towards.

I forced myself to concentrate on every exit sign and stared at the words ahead. Exit 6: Route 13 North. No. Exit 7: Town of Pinewood. Does that town even end? Exit 8: Route 13 South. Nothing appeared that I hadn’t seen before.

Before the next string of exits came, I passed onto a bridge that had a name I cannot remember. It was built to connect the two halves of Interstate 1 over Bluestone River, the largest body of water in the state. For a brief second, I forgot all about the present circumstances as the sound of cool waves swayed into my ears, and the glow of the moon against the river filled the corners of my eyes. I lifted my head as high as I could and tried to see the water below the road. I thought that maybe if I drove the cab off the bridge, Raul might drown, and someone would come to rescue me. Too late. The bridge ended as I worked through the logistics, and I was surrounded by asphalt lanes once more.

I slammed my palm on the horn in rage over my hesitation. But this flash of anger subsided almost immediately, because I saw it. I saw another sign — another opportunity — down the highway. Exit 12: Boulder Woods — exactly the road I was searching for.

I turned my blinker down and looked over my right shoulder to find a hole in the exit lane. When I found a gap, something grazed the left side of my face. I glanced over and saw that Raul had reached into the front seat. He grinned toothily at me and honked on my horn several times. I wrestled him off my shoulder. But it was too late, the cab had already zoomed past the exit.

My heart stopped beating as my mind’s eye saw everything that had ever happened in my life. Behind me, Raul hissed like an exploding tea-kettle, and his swollen legs twitched in anticipation of the kill. “You screwed yourself, Geraldo,” he laughed. “You really, really screwed yourself.”

Without another option, I took back control. I clutched the cab’s steering and checked my car mirrors. I bided my time until I dropped out of the traffic pack I had been in. When I had enough space, I yanked the steering wheel to the left and slammed on the brakes. The car whipped around in a whirlpool of asphalt and stopped, facing traffic. I crushed the gas pedal and sped back the way we’d come. The other cars repelled like magnets into the breakdown lanes. I fought hard not to close my eyes.

And Raul smiled. In the back seat, he smiled.

I swerved onto Exit 12 and maintained my speed to escape any potential pursuers. It did not take long for me to reach the trees. The tangling thickets embraced my cab, and the pollen and mushrooms emitted a warm beam as I sped by.

When I was certain to be far enough away from the main road, I finally stopped the car.

“You’ve escaped, Geraldo,” Raul croaked. “We’ve escaped the wretched world.”

“Yeah,” I said, unable to find much else to say, as my mind was too busy adjusting to a mode of thinking I have not thought like for a long time.

Raul conjured a smile on his blistered face. “I take it you’re done being a driver now? Perhaps even consider picking up a pen? It certainly won’t hurt as much as I would’ve hurt you.”

I remained silent. The tree branches danced their usual dance like marionettes puppeteered by the winds. The stars shone above.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it? It delights me. You ever hear them say the stars are our limit? Well, I think the proper way to put it is that the stars are limited, ’cause when morning comes, away they drift. Away they drift, Geraldo, away they drift.”

“Please get out of my car.”

“Sure will, you’ve more than won your own freedom. Here’s what I owe you for the ride, and take a little something extra. You’ve earned it.”

I refused to accept his money.

“Suit yourself,” Raul said, opening the car door.

“What are you?” I asked.

Raul’s red eyes scanned me a final time. “You can consider me as someone who frees individuals from the world’s expectations,” he said, with a huff, “but only if they deserve it.”

“So those who don’t pass your standards should die?”

Raul laughed. “A person becomes free only when they disregard the restraint of society.”

“But how can you be free if nobody likes you? Isn’t the whole point of society that it minimizes how many people couldn’t give a damn about you?”

“You’re quite a surprising philosopher, Geraldo, but one I happen to disagree with. Creatures like me wouldn’t get compassion anywhere. I’m better suited to nature. That’s where I have the strength and barbarity to thrive.

“You and I are one of the same, Geraldo,” Raul continued. “So remember this: very few people get to live their own life every day.”

Before I could tell him he was different from me, that I would never attempt to hurt anyone, Raul pushed the car door open. He left soundlessly, a green mass of muscle and acid bounding like a child into the woods.

After Raul departed, I parked the cab beneath a tree. I lit a lantern and opened the car door. The night was cold, and all I heard were the crinkle of leaves in the autumn. I looked up at the stars. How unified they looked that night, marching together toward whatever lay beyond.