Twilight Nightmares (Twisted Tales Special Edition Book 1) (16 page)

Road Rage

 

 

 

 

Harold looked at his watch. He had a cool forty-five minutes before he had to be at the interview he’d been waiting months for. Just under a year ago, he lost his job supposedly due to the country’s economy going to shit. He later learned that the company he worked for did just fine, and probably could have hired during it, but they just wanted to keep more money by getting rid of the highest mid-salaries in the company, which included Harold. After eleven months of no work and no income, he was one month away from losing his home. He’d already lost his bitch wife to another man with a stable job and he didn’t want to lose anything else.

The sun washed his back window white as he switched on his left turn signal to move into the middle lane of Alcoa Blvd. He checked his mirror and then over his shoulder, all seemed clear. As he started to move over, a black Mercedes with the vanity plate “1BADAZ” that would’ve been behind him punched his horn and sped up past Harold’s car. Harold swerved the old Chevy back into the right lane, and his body trembled with the anxiety of a near miss.

“Holy crap that was close.” He said as he watched the
guy
speed by. “Guess
someone’s
in a hurry.”

Harold checked again and double-checked to be sure no one was coming up and then changed into the middle lane. The light ahead turned red, and he stopped just behind the black Mercedes. The light seemed to take forever, and when it finally turned green, the driver in front of him crawled through the intersection.

“What the hell is this guy doing?” Harold asked himself, though he suspected the answer would continue to elude him.

After a quarter of a mile, the car had only finally reached twenty-five while everyone around them zipped by at a cool forty-five. He tapped his lights to signal the man to get moving, but he didn’t speed up. Then, he lightly tapped his horn, and a subtle beep, no louder than a timid clown’s fart, escaped the engine bay of his car. No reaction.

“Okay, buddy.” Harold said as he switched on his left turn signal and checked so he could merge and get by him. “One bad ass
my
ass
.”

When a large enough gap appeared, he switched lanes and began to speed up. The black Mercedes quickly sped up, switched lanes without signaling, and then began to crawl again.

“What the fuck.” Harold said as he threw his hands into the air.

He watched the cars ahead of the Mercedes disappear into the distance as cars blasted past him in the middle lane. They were moving far too fast for him
to safely get
over without increasing the risk of causing an accident.

“Shit.” He said, and hit his steering wheel.

The clock on his watch warned him he had less than forty minutes to get to his interview and the GPS device on his dash told him he had 32 minutes to go before arriving.

“You’re
killing
me, guy!”

Harold switched on his turn signal and began keeping an eye out for a decent spot to jump back into the middle lane. In the distance, he saw a small spot coming up, and he hated to cut someone off but the longer he stayed behind the Mercedes the more likely he would be late.

As the gap approached, he looked ahead and the Mercedes put on the left blinker.

“Come on, come on…” Harold said, and then the Mercedes slowly braked as a turn approached. “No, no, no.”

The driver slowed to almost a crawl as if there wasn’t enough room in the turn lane itself to reduce the rest of the way. Harold had to slow, and his window to get out of the lane literally passed him.

“What the fuck!” He said as the driver moved halfway into the turn lane, and then quickly jumped back out again
as if it wasn’t the turn he needed after all
.

Harold looked at the GPS and it still read 32 minutes, and he now had 35 minutes to be there on time. He needed every second.

“Okay, breathe.” He told himself, “The next turn is yours and you can be rid of the asshole.”

As the light ahead approached, it burned red, but the cross traffic had already finished turning. The green light signaled to allow his traffic to turn left. As the cars began to turn and as he approached the turn lane, the Mercedes stopped with an absurd amount of room between it and the car before him. If he scooted up a bit more, Harold could get by and make the light.

Harold honked, but the black Mercedes remained vigilant in its distance. He honked again, and when the turn light turned red, the Mercedes finally scooted up to make room.

“Mother fucker!” Harold screamed as he squeezed the steering wheel until his hands burned.

For a moment, he considered getting into the right lane, but he didn’t. Instead, as his heart thumped hard and his teeth clenched, he watched the back of the black Mercedes with murderous eyes. His breathing became deep and hard, and when he looked at the clock it told him he would be late. He would probably lose his house, his car, and anything else the bank could take from him.

“You mother fucker.” He said in a deep dark voice he barely recognized as his own.

When the light changed and traffic began to move, he kept his Chevy only inches from the bumper of the Mercedes. At the next turn, which happened before the light, the Mercedes turned his signal on and, as before, almost made a complete stop in the lane before changing. Harold followed him closely, and they both turned into the parking lot of a thrift store.

He followed the Mercedes into one of the parking aisles, and waited for the driver to park. As the car pulled into the spot, he pulled behind it and pinned the car in as he’d seen cops do on the show of the very same name.

The driver stepped out of his Mercedes. It was a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties. He had gigantic sunglasses on his face, a white shirt with some kind of tribal design on it, and a silver chain around his neck.

He looked at Harold and called out, “What the hell, bro?”

Harold took a deep turbulent breath, one that seemed shaken by a raging internal thunderstorm. He stepped out of his car, and approached the driver.

The driver said, “What’s your problem?”

When he reached the man, he sucker punched him in the stomach and then grabbed the hair at the back of his head. He held his face up toward his and said, “You mother fucker!”

Harold smashed the man’s face into the glass of rear passenger window. Twice. A third time. Each smash he uttered a single word, “You! Made! Me! Late!”

The man went limp, and when Harold let go of him, the man crumpled to the ground. He didn’t seem to be moving, and his breathing was shallow. Some of the bone on his forehead showed through a deep wound, and his cheekbone had caved. His right eye had already swollen with a piece of black plastic from his sunglasses protruding from the fattened skin.

“Maybe you’ll think twice before you drive like a piece of shit.” Harold said, and then spit on the driver.

He looked around, and there were a few people gathered to watch the commotion. He simply got back into his car, and drove away. Only then did he realize that the police would probably come find him. He would lose everything, but that was all right. He’d lost it all, already. He was happy knowing that the driver would probably never do that again to anyone else. If he died, even better.

That mother fucker.

City of Demons

 

 

 

 

This is a story I’ve been avoiding for a long time: the story of where I was when the world as we knew it ended. I was there when the very first creature emerged.

That morning, I left my apartment and was walking passed the bulletin board when I noticed an advertisement for a moving-out sale. I didn’t normally stop for these events, but because I liked most of my neighbors, I thought I would see if I could help by taking something off their hands. Besides, some of the items listed were useful to me: a waffle maker, a clean leather couch, and a flat-panel television.

When I arrived on the top floor of the apartment complex, I was dismayed to find everything I was interested in had already sold. However, I did see Lisa from 278B looking through some maternal clothing. She made it worth my time stopping there. I always had a thing for her, but looking back, I was glad I never invited her over.

When she glanced up at me, I smiled nervously. Quickly, she shied away. She might have been nervous as well, but I suspected it was my smile. While people have told me that I have a great smile, they also made me aware of my nervous version. Friends have compared it to Jack Nicholson’s in The Shining, which might sound impressive until you see the utterly crazed look he has in that movie.

Anyway, I didn’t pursue her much further than my glance. Time wasn’t on my side because I needed to get ready for work.

I walked briskly to the elevator and pressed the button to call the car. When the door finally opened, I saw a man standing there with wild eyes. He might have been strung-out; I wouldn’t put it beyond anyone in this city. I didn’t want to be in there with him, but I couldn’t wait for another car. I stepped inside, and as it closed, I saw Lisa rushing for the elevator.

“Hold the door!”

The man blocked the doors with his tree-trunk of a leg until she made it through. I pressed the third floor button and tucked myself into the corner. Nervous of both of them.

The car moved slow, so I looked around and glanced at Lisa. At the moving-out sale, she looked beautiful. Now, there was something wrong. She looked worn and agitated. Shades of dark purple and red encircled her eyes, and her skin was pale, sickly even. Perhaps she was in labor, but I didn’t have the courage to ask her if that was the case.

As we approached the third floor, the florescent lights started to flicker, and then the car came to a sharp halt. I grabbed the rail and Lisa’s arm to keep us from falling. The man with us lost his grip and hit the ground.

“Oh god, it’s happening!” She screamed.

“What?” I asked, hoping that she wasn’t talking about the baby, “What’s happening?”

I realized I was still holding her arm and let her go. She looked at me and said, “I’m so sorry.”

She fell to her knees and tilted her head up. With her eyes closed, she began to utter a soft unintelligible prayer. The language was different to me, but
in those days, there were so many different faiths and cultures from all over the world that I didn’t readily notice it was
not
of this realm
.

“Lady, just hang on. We’ll be out of here soon.” The man said.

I fished my cell from my pocket. However, before I could make a call, the LCD screen read NO SERVICE in large bold letter. I sighed not at all surprised my phone would be useless at a time like this.

The man tried the emergency phone. After a moment, he turned to me and said, “It’s down, there’s no dial tone.”

“Great.” I replied.

When I looked back at the woman, she appeared even more dilapidated than she did moments ago. She started to sweat heavily. I knew she was probably in labor, but I hoped she could hold off until maintenance had a chance reset the elevator.

When I flipped open my phone again to be certain there was no signal, the woman’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped against the wall. She began to scream hoarsely, and then she shook so violent it was as if her body was the epicenter of a massive earthquake. Soon she fell to the floor silent and still.

The man knelt down and shook her arm, “Dude, I don’t think she’s breathing.”

“Are you sure?” I said, and then bent down to check her pulse.

She was dead. I stood and backed away from her. The man did the same, and as I watched him, his face twisted with a powerful fear.

He screamed and pointed at her, “Jesus!”

I looked back at Lisa. I screamed and fell against the wall with no doubt the same look on my face. At her abdomen, her dress writhed as if her baby were still alive. Blood seeped through the fabric and a moment later, something quick and agile ran out from under the fabric.

The creature stopped in the middle of the elevator. We both watched it, frozen in terror. It was neither baby nor animal, but some kind of demonic creature. Its skin was black and wet, as if made of oil. The eyes were fully sliver, and a moment later, it let out a wretched scream.

The man went for the doors, and tried to pry them open. The creature turned toward him, leapt to his neck, and latched on. The man tried to pull it off, but he soon relented as his clothes wetted with blood. He fell to the ground and stopped screaming for help.

When the creature finally let go of him, it turned towards me. The demon appeared to be waiting for the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, the elevator began to move, startling me. The small demon tried to take advantage of the moment, and ran at me. I reacted with fear and kicked frantically at it. I nearly missed, but still managed to nick the side of its face. It fell backward, growling with anger.

The elevator came to a soft stop and the door slipped open. The demon screamed at me and ran into the hallway. I remained frozen against the wall, waiting for it to return. However, the fiendish growling moved further away from me.

I looked at the aftermath, and couldn’t believe what happened. Two people were dead, one of which gave birth to a creature that was now on the loose.

My stomach didn’t react favorably, but I was thankful that I was near my apartment. I needed to call the police, though I wasn’t sure they could do anything. Maybe I needed to contact a priest, instead.

As I stepped over the bodies, the woman started to move. I stopped and watched as her hand tightened into a fist and then relaxed. Finally, she opened her eyes, but they were no longer a beautiful blue. They were now
completely silver
, as if her eyes were replaced with ball bearings.

A deep growl erupted from her throat, a sound so sinister that I didn’t want to stick around. She tried to grab for my leg, but I quickly dodged and rushed down the corridor to my apartment. I fumbled for my keys, and as I looked back, the woman climbed to her feet and headed my direction.

I was relieved when I found the right key. I unlocked the door, rushed in, and then engaged the deadbolt. For good measure, I wrestled my old filthy couch to the door and blocked it.

I climbed onto the cushions and looked through the peephole. I watched the woman attack a man who ran up to help the dead man in the elevator. He died quickly and violently. The woman ran to the emergency stairs and disappeared through the door.

When I looked back to the carnage, I saw the man from earlier start to move. I didn’t want to see anymore so I stepped away from the door. My stomach twisted and I lost the contents of it into the kitchen sink.

For several weeks, I didn’t lay a single step outside my apartment. I observed the city from my window as it tore itself apartment person by person, each rising with silver eyes. The news told of horror stories spreading from my city to the rest of the world. By the end of the month, all broadcasting ceased.