THE HEARSE
by Norsebard
Contact: norsebarddk@gmail.com
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DISCLAIMERS:
This short chiller is an Original.
All characters depicted, names used, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons is intended nor should be inferred. Any resemblance of the characters portrayed to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR:
Written: October 6th - 7th, 2023, for the 2023 Royal Academy Of Bards' Halloween Invitational.
- Thank you very much for your help, Phineas Redux! :D
As usual, I'd like to say a great, big THANK YOU to my mates at AUSXIP Talking Xena, especially to the gals and guys in Subtext Central. I really appreciate your support - Thanks, everybody! :D
Description: Irrational fear can be a killer. Laura Sorensen discovers that while driving home from a business trip. Tension mounts as a creepy hearse follows her every move on the freeway… or does it? Could it all be in her mind?
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THE HEARSE
Laura Sorensen let out a sigh when she stepped out of the ferry's inner stairwell and into the overcrowded passenger lounge. The 6am to 8pm days of her week-long business trip south of the border had left no room for little things like checking the date. She soon came to the depressing realization that it was the last day before the mid-term holidays - it meant that everyone upped stakes and headed north in one, enormous tin-can convoy to get to the cottages and hotels along the western peninsula's sandy shores before the mid-October weather would turn too poor.
To make matters even worse, it was Friday the 13th - the frightening phantom that loomed over every person who harbored even the slightest grain of superstition. She needed to perform a little shimmy to get the shivers off her back before she could continue into the lounge.
---
Though its 4:45pm departure time had been and gone, the large boat was still docked in the Lenzgarten Ferry Port. A distinct tremble in the floor and the occasional rocking motion offered a hint that the crew remained hard at work loading passenger trains deep down in the bowels of the ferry.
She had been lucky to find a vacant spot in one of the seven passenger lounges within a few moments of emerging from the car decks with seemingly 900 other people who had all had the same notion. Coffee and some kind of hot food would be worth killing for, but she knew - from bitter experience - that if she left the round table and the uncomfortable chair she had claimed, both would be taken once she made it back from the cafeteria.
To take her mind off the hunger that gnawed at her gut, she swept her trench coat aside to dig a hand into a pocket of her pantsuit. Her telephone was soon found and turned on. A grunt of disappointment escaped her when she noticed the Roaming icon was still lit up. She could go online if she wanted to, but the cost would be tenfold compared to normal - the reason was simple: the telephone's network snooper had latched onto the nearest land-based service since there obviously weren't any repeater towers out on the Strait she was about to cross, but that service was in a foreign country and run by a company that she had no contract with.
She had already found her earphones intending to return to the audiobook she had downloaded onto the telephone when the racket all around her made her reconsider. Sighing, she put everything away and settled for tapping her fingers on the tabletop and watching her fellow passengers file past the lounge.
The crossing was to be her 114th in the past year and a half. Being the highly superstitious type, she had dreaded the 13th and 113th crossings, but nothing bad had happened in either of them. Still, it couldn't hurt to be prepared, so she had already drawn up contingency plans for the 213th crossing that would come almost exactly a year later.
At 41, she was older than most of her colleagues in the world of traveling representatives, but she was unattached and thus the constant first pick for whenever someone needed to go to a sales convention, a conference or simply to schmooze up prospective clients for the company she worked for, M-D-R Consulting Partners. The high number of hours she needed to commit to work left no time for pets or any kind of social - or love - life, but she had come to terms with that a long time ago.
The P.A. system finally let out its customary Bing-Ding-Bong! to tell the increasingly impatient passengers they better listen up - the regular pre-recorded message soon started playing. As always, the message was delivered in a cheery and overly explanatory fashion by a woman who sounded as if she had been given some of Popeye The Sailor's magic spinach before she recorded it.
For the umpteenth time, Laura learned where to assemble in case of an emergency, that staying on the car decks was prohibited during the 45-minute crossing, that smoking was banned everywhere save for the designated areas or outside, that the duty-free shop would open ten minutes after departure, and several other things that she zoned out due to acute overload.
In spite of the bright lights in the lounge and the mounting darkness outside, a look out of the windows confirmed the ferry was indeed gliding out of the dock at Lenzgarten. The trembling felt through the floor soon deepened and turned into a steady hum that she knew well - it meant that crossing number 114 had commenced.
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Half an hour later, the need for coffee and something to eat had been too great to ignore, so she returned from the cafeteria holding a mug and two wrapped sandwiches as well as a napkin for the inevitable spillage. A sigh escaped her as the uncomfortable chair at the round table had been snatched just as she had predicted it would be.
Her luck seemed to improve when another spot in the same lounge became available a moment later. The new table was right next to the large panorama windows, but it mattered little as there was nothing to see out on the pitch-black Strait save for the rigging lights of another ship in the far distance.
Laura would never eavesdrop on anyone's private conversation, but a twenty-something woman sitting a few tables further along the lounge spoke so loudly into her telephone that everyone got their fair share of the contents whether they wanted it or not.
"Gawd, I'm telling you," the young woman said, "I saw the creepiest, black hearse- huh? Just now! It had a pinewood casket in the back and everything! No, I'm not exaggerating! It's right there on the car deck! I took a picture of it- huh? Yes, I'll send it to you. I mean, okay, I guess people die on holidays or whatever, but why do they have to- huh? Yes, exactly! Why do they have to use the ferry? There are kids and old people and dogs here and everything. And nobody wants to look at a hearse with a casket in the back!"
Laura's coffee and sandwiches didn't last long, but they still outlived her patience. The unpleasant topic and the young woman's loud voice grated on her nerves, so she quickly dabbed her lips on the napkin and got up from the uncomfortable chair.
The young woman continued to speak at unabated volume when Laura returned from putting the mug onto the tray rack, so she spun around and stomped off to find a quieter spot for the remaining ten-twelve minutes or so of the crossing.
Before she could make it too far, the P.A. system's Bing-Ding-Bong! and the overly cheery public announcer informed everyone that the crossing would be over in less than fifteen minutes so the car decks were now open for the public.
She knew exactly what was coming - a locust-like swarm of passengers all running for the elevators or the staircases at the exact same time - so she made a ninety-degree turn to begin that journey a little sooner than everyone else.
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Four storeys below the lounge area, she pressed the round button labeled Open to activate the pneumatic fire door that would allow her access onto Car Deck #2. It wasn't the same accessway she had used going upstairs, so she found herself worrying about finding her car in time.
When the door slid open with a hiss, she came to an abrupt halt. The creepy, black hearse that the young woman had told everyone about was parked directly in front of the exit.
Unlike regular hearses that were usually converted Mercedes-Benz, Ford or Volvo station wagons kept in stylish, subdued colors like dark-bronze or charcoal-gray, it was an enormous, matte-black Cadillac from the late 1960s equipped with whitewall tires and all-enveloping, silvery hubcaps. Red pinstriping swirled down its hugely long side giving it a most sinister look.
Like the young woman up in the lounge had mentioned, a pinewood casket rested in the back with a bouquet of black roses attached to its lid. Although there were in fact burgundy privacy curtains in all the hearse's rear windows, none were drawn.
Laura just stood there, staring wide-eyed at the matte-black, evil-looking thing. A shiver rolled over her entire body as her old superstitious self made its presence felt. Worse, she needed to walk straight past the hearse to get to her own car that was parked 75 meters or so further along the car deck.
Countless voices and the clicking of many heels from the stairwell above her made her snap out of her stupor and move ahead. The pneumatic fire door was already closing once more, but she managed to slip through unhindered. Hurrying past the matte-black vehicle, she kept her eyes firmly glued to the metal deck plates in front of her shoes so she didn't have to look at the sinister hearse.
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Sitting in her company car, a Telstar Galactica e922, Laura waited for the large bow gate to crack open and the ferry to arrive at Redby Ferry Port. The delay leaving Lenzgarten hadn't been made up and had in fact grown larger as a headwind had slowed down the ferry's progress crossing the Strait.
The time of arrival was supposed to have been 5:30pm, but the white digits on her telephone proved it was already 5:42pm and counting. At last, the shrill alarm bells echoing throughout Car Deck #2 proved the bow gate was in the process of opening. As soon as the alarms had died down, she rolled down the car's window to take in the fresh breeze that carried the refreshing scent of salt water.
The ferry rocked left and right as it slid into the inner dock and locked onto the gigantic clamps that would hold it in place while unloading. An employee dressed in a fluorescent-yellow coverall walked onto the car deck and soon manipulated the two-lane ramp and the bar that blocked the access. Laura let out a grunt when she realized they were to use the smaller of the two ramps for their exit.
It never failed that some impatient souls turned on their engines before the rows of bulbs installed in the inner roof of the car deck literally gave the motorists the green light to do so. It was simply a matter of waiting for the inevitable, and sure enough, the red lights - indicating that no start was yet allowed - had barely come on when someone further up the lane started their engine. Tribal instincts soon took over, and pretty much everyone had turned on their engines by the time the green lights came on.
A dragon-like roar followed by a loud, metallic, unsettling rumble some distance behind Laura could only come from the Cadillac hearse. She glanced in the mirrors to see if she could spot the sinister vehicle, but her view was blocked by the many cars behind her.
Her own company car was an electric vehicle so all she needed to do was to depress the Start button. The onboard computer systems came alive one by one and soon greeted her personally by writing Hello, Laura on the dashboard - she rolled her eyes at the tomfoolery.
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Although steeper than a ski slope, the two-lane exit ramp was soon behind her. The four-door Telstar rolled silently along the lanes toward a well-lit staging area where the typically surly Customs officers waited for the new batch of cars to arrive. The speed limit was 15 km/h so she had set the automated cruise control to 12 km/h to be on the safe side.
Two lanes went directly past a rectangular building at the staging area while two others looped onto a parking lot. She let out a groan when one of the Customs officers held up a Stop sign just as she approached him. Mumbling and grumbling over her typical luck, she followed the loop and went into the brightly-lit parking lot.
She had already found her driver's license and the company car's registration papers by the time the officer reached her. "I have nothing to declare. I've been on a business trip," she said as she handed the documents to the - as always - surly fellow.
"And this is a company car?" the Customs officer asked. In his mid-thirties, the fellow wore a black uniform and a fluorescent-green vest that said CUSTOMS on the front and rear. The ubiquitous mustache took up plenty of space on his upper lip thus confirming once more that even the most tired cliche had a real-life starting point.
"That's right," Laura said as she put the driver's license into her purse and the registration into the glove box.
"Open the trunk, Miss," the officer said as he strolled to the rear of the Telstar. Sighing, Laura complied with the request. Although it was the first time she had dealt with this particular Customs officer, she had been stopped in spot checks so often that she knew all the little peculiarities by heart. Among them was the fact that she wasn't allowed to get out while the visual inspection was conducted - all she could do was to wait for the surly officer to conclude his business.
It happened sooner rather than later as there was nothing to be found back there save for a laptop, a small travel bag and an even smaller overnight bag. Grunting, the Customs officer closed the rear hatch and moved back to the driver's side window where he delivered a curt "You may go about your business."
Laura eyed the warning light on the dashboard that indicated the officer hadn't closed the hatchback properly. Grumbling under her breath, she waited for the surly fellow to move back to his post before she got out and closed the hatch with the force required by the latch.
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The staging area opened up into a large gas and recharging station before the two-lane freeway itself started some 150 meters further on. The Telstar rolled along silently at low speed. Laura got a good look of the charging gauge and the estimated distance the vehicle could go before she glanced at the dozens of cars waiting to get to the gas pumps and charging points on the forecourt of the service station.
"Ohhhh-no, I don't think so… I'm way late as it is," she mumbled as she deactivated the cruise control which allowed her to depress the accelerator. She wouldn't have to recharge the Telstar until the exact halfway point between the Redby Ferry Port and home, and she could already smell the delicious waffles sold at the cafeteria she always stopped at.
Because of the extra delay, many of the 60 or so lumbering eighteen-wheelers that had been on the ferry had gone past her. They hogged the inner lane for what appeared to be kilometers ahead, but she made short shrift of them as the Telstar easily increased its speed until it reached the first section's limit of 90 km/h.
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The Telstar Galactica seemed like a tiny roller skate next to the behemoth eighteen-wheelers. Their huge tires reached as high up as the middle of the side windows on the electric vehicle, but Laura had been in that situation far too often to let it spook her. Instead of worrying about their proximity and what would happen to her car - and her - if they didn't see her, she kept her foot on the throttle to keep up with the natural speed of the traffic in the fast lane.
She initially had the audiobook playing over the car's speaker system via a Bluetooth connection, but she kept losing track of the narration so she stopped the playback and selected the old-fashioned radio instead.
The news at six-thirty brought the usual sound bites from the usual suspects. The subsequent sports update was largely irrelevant to her since she had zero interest in any of it save for a brief mention of team handball results near the end, and the closing weather report only proved that autumn was already in full swing - she could have told them that just by looking out of the window.
When the first three songs following the news block were dull, duller and dullest, she turned off the radio to save her eardrums.
The resulting complete silence soon grew eerie and unsettling. There was a tiny amount of wind noise and a faint whine from the electric drivetrain and the low-profile tires, but beyond those background noises, the Telstar was as quiet as a tomb.
The lack of ambient sounds sent a chill down her spine and in fact made her develop a light bout of car sickness. Nobody longed for the days of exhaust fumes, but the constant vibrations and humming of the internal combustion engine had been comforting companions on any journey - almost like listening to the mother's heartbeat in the womb.
Although she tried braving it out a few minutes longer, the need to do something to take her mind off the mounting queasiness soon moved to the top of her to-do list. She had barely cracked open the driver's side window to get some fresh air inside when a red warning LED lit up on the dashboard. A moment later, a message on the computer display informed her of Reduced Aerodynamic Efficiency while the icon showing the estimated range of the battery charge began flashing.
Growling, she closed the window once more which reset all the warnings and flashing icons. If she couldn't get some air, she could at least listen to music so the radio was soon turned back on.
Ten minutes went by with no dramas save for having to listen to several dull songs playing over the infotainment system's many speakers. The inner lane continued to present an endless line of lumbering eighteen-wheelers that omitted deep rumbles as the silent Telstar raced past them.
Laura narrowed her eyes as she caught a glimpse of a creepy, red light somewhere up ahead. It was constant but didn't appear to be made by someone riding the brake pedal, nor was it a forgotten rear fog light. When she got closer, she broke out in a slight gasp when she realized the lights emanated from the sinister, matte-black Cadillac hearse that had already spooked her once back on the ferry.
The enormous vehicle seemed so out of place next to the far sleeker modern family cars that it almost appeared to have dropped out of a time warp. The red light she had spotted turned out to be an otherworldly glow that came from its undercarriage. The privacy curtains were still apart so the pinewood casket and the bouquet of black roses were in plain view of everyone driving past.
As bad luck would have it, the fast lane's progress grew slower just as she reached the hearse. Although the lanes ebbed and flowed, she was mostly trapped next to it. The Cadillac's large-displacement engine and its side-mounted, open exhaust made such a racket that it even drowned out the music playing over the Telstar's radio.
Laura couldn't keep her eyes off her dark, sinister companion. Now and then, her lane moved enough forward to allow her to sneak a peek at the driver, but all she ever saw was a black leather glove on the steering wheel. The same kind of red light as the underglow emanated from the Cadillac's dashboard, bathing the old car's interior in an almost demonic gleam.
The fast lane finally loosened up, and Laura responded by stepping a little harder on the accelerator to get away from the hearse. In the rear view mirror, she noticed its four headlights were in an unusual over-and-under configuration instead of the more regular side-by-side. The upper headlights were both equipped with a chrome feature that made her think of eyes - evil eyes.
Some distance ahead in the fast lane, brake lights started flashing. Laura kept her eyes on the rear-view mirror to keep track of the hearse slowly disappearing from view behind her. More brake lights started flashing. Someone even put on their hazard lights.
From one moment to the next, the fast lane slowed down by forty kilometers per hour as an eighteen-wheeler broke out of the inner lane to overtake one of its lumbering brethren. That the maneuver took place in a No Overtaking zone for commercial vehicles didn't seem to bother the driver.
Not only were Laura's eyes glued to the rear-view mirror, her foot was still planted on the accelerator in the hope of getting away from the sinister-looking hearse. A split second later, the seat belt tightened up as the Telstar's automated features took over.
"Ohhhhh-Gawd!" Laura cried as the car braked so hard she nearly lost her grip on the steering wheel. The Emergency Speed Reduction System worked in perfect tandem with the anti-lock brakes, the Pedal Retraction System and all the other pre-impact systems to perform a magic feat: though the car slowed down from over 130 km/h to less than 70 in a very short distance, everything remained safe and unharmed.
Everything apart from Laura's hair, that is. As gravity played a significantly larger role than usual during the emergency braking, her dark-blond locks flew forward as if she had just been exposed to hurricane-strength winds literally blowing down her neck.
Another cry escaped her as she tried the impossible task of sweeping the curtain of hair aside while keeping a death-grip on the steering wheel. The pedals were soon moved back into position down in the footwell, and she took full advantage of that by slowing down even further.
Up ahead, the brake lights eased off as the offending eighteen-wheeler had finally made its way past the one it had tried to overtake for several kilometers. The traffic remained jammed up for another short minute or so until the knot was untangled and everyone resumed their drive north.
Several veins thumped on her forehead as she recovered from the shock. As her breathing eventually fell back into its regular pattern, she released the death grip she'd had on the steering wheel and made sure to keep her eyes glued on the road dead ahead.
A final, ultra-brief glance in the rear-view mirror proved the evil-looking hearse was still there, albeit some distance back from the Telstar - the eerie red glow made it impossible to miss. Another unwelcome shiver ran down her back. "Why did I have to see that thing on Friday the thirteenth…?" she said in a quiet mumble.
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Fifty-two minutes after Laura had driven out of Redby Ferry Port down south, the bright lights of the large truck stop at Bravestead came into sight. She had used Bravestead North as her preferred spot for a break ever since M-D-R Consulting Partners had switched to electric vehicles as the stop had been the first on the entire stretch to add charging stations - that the cafeteria also made the world's greatest waffles was a bonus she simply couldn't ignore.
Turning off the freeway and onto the forecourt of Bravestead North posed no problems for her. She set the cruise control to 15 km/h before she trickled past the old-fashioned gas pumps on her way over to the array of almost new charging points.
Four of the sixteen points carried the official UltraCharge logos, but she had been told by the company where M-D-R Consulting Partners leased their fleet of vehicles to only use the regular 'slow charge' chargers as the Galactica e922's battery packs weren't designed with the high-powered throughput in mind. Seven of the remaining twelve regular charging points were available so she was spoiled for choice. Ultimately, she parked the Telstar Galactica at the first of the seven to be as close as possible to the cafeteria and the legendary waffles.
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After a brief detour to the public restroom to wash her hands and get her hair back into something resembling her usual stylish hairdo, she stepped into the main cafeteria. The gray carpet, the panorama windows, the tall ceiling and the central island that contained the counters and the kitchen itself were the same as always, but the countless square tables set up as satellites to the kitchen island were far busier than what she was used to seeing.
The large number of holiday-bound guests created a constant din of chatting, laughing and even a little crying produced by young children sitting in high chairs. Hundreds of pieces of cutlery struck scores of plates creating a somewhat comforting racket of cling-clangs and jingle-jangles. Behind it all, the cafeteria's speakers played all the familiar top-40 tunes, but the music was drowned out by the human elements present.
A quick glance at the time on her telephone proved she was there forty-five minutes later than usual - the delay getting off the ferry, the business with the surly Customs officer and the abundance of trucks on the freeway had ganged up on her to rob her of her precious time.
She let out a brief grunt as she caught a glimpse of the long lines at the coffee vending machines. It seemed that half the region's truck drivers were there intending to fill up their liter-sized travel-mugs. The lines at the regular counters were shorter, so she went over there first to get her beloved waffles.
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Ten minutes later, she exited the cafeteria holding a to-go mug of Cappuccino Caramel and a paper bag featuring four of the delightful waffles as well as two small packs of honey.
One of the few negatives associated with the Bravestead North truck stop was the fact its parking lots were horribly bleak, wide-open places that offered no protection from the inevitable gusts of wind that seemed to sweep the rural region around the clock. Her hairdo was the first to find this out as her locks once more tried to take flight the second she stepped onto the concrete pathway.
She had only made it half a dozen steps into the short walk back to her Telstar when her sixth sense tried to warn her about something. Slowing down and eventually coming to a halt, she did a half-turn to try to work out what had been the cause of the alert.
The gas pumps at the regular service station a few hundred meters further down toward the truck stop's entrance were well-lit but showed nothing unusual: a few family cars and a delivery van. Similarly, a glance at the line of vehicles parked in front of the cafeteria yielded nothing.
While she watched, a man wearing the uniform of one of the well-known parcel delivery services exited the cafeteria and walked toward a high-topped van. On his way there, he glanced up at one of the tall lamp posts that had gone on the blink.
Her blood froze over as the van backed away from the curb revealing the car parked behind it. Her eyes grew ever wider as they took in the chilling features of the sinister, matte-black Cadillac hearse. Although it was dark and quiet at present, it was no less creepy than when the eerie red glow had shone from under its chassis.
The lamp post blinking in a seemingly random on-again-off-again pattern directly onto the hearse didn't help matters, so she spun around and hurried over to the charging station and her Telstar. After putting the bag of waffles onto the passenger-side seat and sticking the coffee mug into one of the cup holders, she ran over to the charge point to disconnect the power cable.
A mumbled "Oh, for crying out loud…" escaped her when she realized the charging session still had several percentage points to go before she could make it all the way home without stopping at another recharging station.
Though she tried not to peek, she just couldn't stop herself from glancing across the parking lot to look at the hearse. It just sat there like a matte-black monster from the Earth's ancient past - a monster that had all the time in the world to size up its next victims. "That thing would have been bad enough any day of the week… but on Friday the thirteenth? Why did I have to meet it today…" she said in a mumble.
The recharging seemed to take an eternity but Laura needed urgent action to take her mind off the creepy beast across the parking lot. Wrestling free of her dark thoughts, she opened the front door and liberated the first of the delightful waffles as well as one of the small packs of honey. The latter was quickly poured over the former - the results were just as heavenly as she had hoped for and pushed all thoughts and irrational fears of ancient, matte-black monsters to the back of her mind.
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Once the recharging was completed and she had paid with her company credit card, she got behind the wheel and activated the onboard computers. The electronic gauge showing the estimated distance reported that she had more than enough in the proverbial tank to reach her home some 75 kilometers further north.
A sudden, and certainly frightening, dragon-like roar somewhere behind her made her jerk upright. A trembling hand tried to shove the to-go mug into the cup holder so the Cappuccino Caramel wouldn't end up all over the upholstery and her pantsuit. Craning her neck to see behind her only confirmed what she already dreaded - the evil hearse had come alive.
The red underglow and the over-and-under headlights now shone brightly. The large-displacement engine rumbled along at a low idle, but the matte-black beast didn't yet move.
Biting her lips, Laura mashed a finger onto the Start button which made all the computerized systems come online. She ignored the warning light telling her of Reduced Aerodynamic Efficiency - she had the window rolled down by a few centimeters - and simply selected Forward Drive.
Once the icon depicting a forward-pointing arrow was illuminated on the electronic dashboard, she slammed her foot onto the accelerator and took off in a cloud of dust.
Another warning light came on when she broke the speed limit exiting the truck stop, but she ignored it and kept her foot on the floor. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror proved the sinister hearse with the evil headlights followed her back onto the freeway, albeit at an ever-increasing distance.
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A short half hour later, the two-lane freeway she had been on since leaving the Redby Ferry Port blended into the larger East-West Corridor creating a six-lane obstacle course packed with cars, vans, coaches and lumbering long-haul eighteen-wheelers. Coming from the south, Laura needed to cross over three of the six lanes in order to get into the proper one for her own exit that loomed another 20 kilometers further up the road.
The traffic was murder as always at the confusing, large-scale merging point, but she managed to find gaps large enough for her Telstar without unwanted dramas. Once she was in the correct lane, a quick glance in the mirrors proved the sinister hearse was long gone.
She let out a sigh of relief as she reached for the last half of the final waffle. Munching on the sweet pastry prompted the first smile to spread over her lips since she had left the check-out desk at the business-class hotel she had spent the past few days and nights at.
---
The next indicator of potential trouble in her near future came when she went past one of the dreaded yellow road signs. She had seen it too late to catch what it said, but she had plenty of time to read the next one that followed a few hundred meters further along the freeway. A long groan escaped her when she learned that the exit she needed to use to get home was being renovated so delays should be expected.
She didn't have her telephone hooked up to the Telstar's computers, and the onboard GPS service was unavailable as long as the vehicle moved - as required by law - so she had the choice of trying her luck at the roadworks or use another exit. It was tempting to bypass the troubles altogether, but the biggest problem with the latter option was that it would undoubtedly lead her off to God-knows-where when all she wanted was to go home.
Her fingers performed a frustrated ta-ta-tap, ta-ta-tap, ta-ta-tap on the rim of the steering wheel for a short while before she decided to try her luck at the roadworks. Several more of the yellow road signs flashed past seemingly determined to undermine her decision, but she stood firm and prepared herself mentally for yet another delay.
A slow-moving delivery truck up ahead necessitated an overtaking. The maneuver itself posed no problems for her or the swift Telstar Galactica, but the faint shimmer of red in the rear-view mirror certainly did. She broke out in a croaking "No… how is that possible?!" when her eyes caught a lengthier glimpse of the eerie glow and the over-and-under headlights.
The Lane Drift Warning System suddenly let out a shrill alarm that caused her to snap back to reality in a hurry. While she had been looking in the rear-view mirror, she had crept closer and closer to the delivery truck she was overtaking. Swerving back to the middle of her own lane, she clenched her jaw and bit down on her tongue in an attempt to stop a full-body shiver from breaking out.
The sinister hearse was perhaps 100 meters behind her, but it was closing in on the far smaller Telstar at an almost imperceptible rate. It was still too far back for her to make out any details apart from seeing the four headlights and the red underglow.
She had no interest in being closely acquainted with either the frightening vehicle or its driver - although she was beginning to fear it operated without any human input - so she stepped harder on the accelerator to at least maintain the distance between them.
---
The increased speed brought new problems. As the freeway got closer and closer to the capital, the traffic grew heavier and thus slower. She was forced to perform several semi-risky moves to clear lumbering trucks and coaches, and she was honked at at least twice.
Soon, the traffic control displays installed on gantries reaching across all the lanes flashed one of the messages that all drivers hated with a passion: Caution! Very High Traffic Density 5 KM Ahead. In layman's terms, it meant a traffic jam was literally just up the road.
The number estimating the distance to the tail-end of the logjam continued to decrease. Soon, Laura no longer needed the assistance of the traffic control to confirm what her eyes clearly saw - all the lanes ahead were awash in hundreds upon hundreds of red taillights.
"What an awful day this has been… so typical of Friday the thirteenth," she said in a mumble. "As soon as I get home, I'll draw a steaming-hot bubble bath and soak in it until dawn!"
The roar of a nearby dragon made her jerk upright in the seat once more. She whipped her head around to stare over her shoulder. The evil headlights were directly behind her. The hearse was so close she couldn't even see the underglow, but the red light emanating from its dashboard was bright and clear as it shone upon the black-clad figure behind the wheel.
Laura blew hot and cold when she finally caught a glimpse of the driver's face. The full-body shiver she had tried to hold back soon rolled over her with a vengeance. Though it seemed far too surreal and nightmarish to be true, she was certain she had seen a skull rather than human features.
"It's all in my mind… it's all in my mind. It's all in my mind!" she said at an ever-increasing volume. Each time her trembling voice uttered the sentence, she took a longer glance in the rear-view mirror to verify that it was indeed all in her mind. Unfortunately, she simply could not tell, not even as she caught another glimpse of the hearse's driver. All she could see was a vague, shadowy silhouette. Were the eyes there or were the sockets black and empty? Did it have a mouth or two rows of teeth forever frozen in the hideous grin of death?
Her heart thumped hard as she moved her eyes back to the road ahead. The veins on her forehead bulged out, her mouth went bone-dry and her palms grew clammy as her entire being entered a state of near-panic borne of raw, irrational fear.
All the lanes save for the hard shoulder on the right were moving ahead at no more than 40 km/h. Using the hard shoulder for anything but wrecked or broken down vehicles was strictly prohibited, but she had no time for the letter of the law.
Spinning the steering wheel to the right, she headed into the special lane and slammed her foot onto the accelerator. The two and a half kilometers she drove there provoked plenty of angry honking as well as a jolting, rattling ride, but it got her away from the hearse and the gruesome figure holding the wheel.
Even better, it got her past the traffic jam. It had been one of those infuriating affairs that had just blossomed for no discernible reason. There hadn't been any accidents, roadworks or even dropped cargo in any of the lanes - someone had simply decided to go slower than necessary which had led to an inevitable buildup of vehicles and ultimately a jam.
She turned left to return to the regular lane. Having beaten the traffic jam and defeated the evil entity yet again, she found herself on a stretch of the freeway that was remarkably free of obstacles. Still having plenty of nervous energy coursing through her veins, she kept her foot on the floor and watched the Telstar's digital speedometer climb to 135 km/h which was far beyond the local speed limit of 110 km/h.
A sigh of relief escaped her as she took a long glance in the rear-view mirror without seeing any signs of the Cadillac. Her trembling hand soon reached for the to-go mug of Cappuccino Caramel to get her strained nerves back under control - it didn't even matter that the sweet beverage had grown lukewarm.
-*-*-*-
The street lights above the lanes melted into a dizzying blur as the speeding Telstar Galactica flew past underneath them. Laura had the electric vehicle racing along the freeway passing cars, vans and trucks left and right; the speed never dipping below 130 km/h even in a series of gently sweeping curves.
Constant glances in the rear-view mirror proved time and time again there was no need for the breakneck speed, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the sinister hearse would reappear before too long.
The deceleration lane she needed to use for the final stretch homeward came up fast - the exit itself would follow a kilometer and a half further up the road. Instead of letting off the accelerator to prepare the vehicle for the turn, she slipped into the lane at 142 km/h. Although it was more than 30 km/h above the speed limit, she wasn't overly concerned as she knew the modern car was more than capable of handling such a high speed even going up the ramp and onto the overpass.
Another long glance in the rear-view mirror proved that all her worries regarding the sinister hearse were behind her. The Cadillac and its creepy underglow were nowhere in sight as far back as she could see.
While studying the mirror, she missed the first of four yellow road signs warning of the impending roadworks. The second sign warned of a further reduction in the speed limit to 70 km/h.
"I win… I win, you hideous monster," she whispered into the darkness. Looking ahead once more, she gasped as the Telstar's powerful headlights caught the third of the yellow road signs - it said Roadworks Ahead! Speed Limit: 50 km/h.
Time slowed down to a crawl.
She looked down at the digital speedometer that read 139 km/h. Up ahead, a sea of red taillights and a few brake lights proved the right-hand lane was full of vehicles adhering to the new speed limit. The left-hand lane was blocked by three service vehicles used by the roadworkers: the first was a two-axled signboard trailer equipped with a huge, flashing arrow that instructed traffic to move past it on the right. Beyond the trailer, a dump truck was in the act of receiving a load of rubble brought to it by an excavator.
She slammed her foot onto the brake pedal the hardest she ever had. The Emergency Speed Reduction System came to her assistance by trying to repeat the magic feat it had performed earlier in the trip home, but the speed was too high and the distance too short this time for any miracles to happen.
The driver of the car at the end of the line in the right-hand lane pumped the brakes and turned on the hazard lights to warn the rapidly approaching vehicle of the impending disaster.
Laura swerved left to avoid murdering the people in the last car. The Telstar's dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree as the ESRS and all the other pre-impact systems prepared for the inevitable.
The distance to the roadworkers' signboard trailer was a mere 25 meters and the car's speed had only been reduced to 111 km/h. Too shocked to scream, weep or even take her hands off the steering wheel, Laura Sorensen simply furrowed her brow in confusion when she heard someone call her name. She was sure the voice had been her late mother's.
Then the natural progression of time was restored.
The 25 meters disappeared in a flash. Upon the initial impact, the trailer worked as a springboard for the speeding Galactica. The electric vehicle struck one of the trailer's unprotected corners and performed a corkscrew spin in mid-air.
A fraction of a moment later, it went clear through the actual signboard before it ended its flight deeply embedded into the dump truck's grille. Though the large, stationary truck weighed a great deal more than the sleek car, it was shoved back several meters by the forces inflicted upon it. The three violent impacts crushed the Telstar Galactica into half its original size.
After scores of glass, metal and plastic fragments had rained down upon the concrete overpass, the dump truck and the cars in the right-hand lane, everything fell deathly quiet.
Many of the motorists there reached for their telephones to call for an ambulance, but those closest to the crumpled-up ball of metal at the spot of the final impact knew there was no point - whatever the car had been, there was so little left ahead of the back seat that it couldn't fill a grocery bag. A laptop, a pair of travel bags and several clothing items of an elegant nature littered the road after having been thrown out of the car's trunk.
The accident blocked the exit ramp and the overpass, but the traffic on the other freeway underneath the bridge continued as if nothing had happened. One of the vehicles was a late-1960s Cadillac hearse with a red underglow and evil-looking headlights. As the large car continued northbound accompanied by its characteristic deep rumble, its matte-black tailgate was illuminated by the cars behind it.
It carried a large advertisement sticker that read Halloween Rentals. For All Your Ghoulish Desires, Call 90 666 666. Ask for Mike.
*
*
THE END