The Ride

The red truck raced through the countryside, snaking its way along the winding roads of a small eastern North Carolina county named Lenoir. The driver kept glancing in the rear-view mirror not able to shake the feeling that he was being followed. Although there was no one behind him, he could feel a presence closing in. With each turn the man began to have trouble keeping the truck on the road as he maneuvered the sharp curves, crossing the yellow line several times due to the excessive speed. Twice the tires slipped off the shoulder and slid precariously through the gravel nearly sending the truck into a disastrous spin. Each time the man eased the wheels back onto the asphalt without losing control and then continued on.

Up ahead, a steep hill rose mightily before him.

The man kept his foot on the gas and the truck bottomed out violently in the valley causing sparks to fly from the undercarriage. Inside the cab, the jolt caused the man to lose his grip on the wheel, and the truck jerked into the oncoming lane. Thankfully, there was no car in its path. The truck naturally slowed as it began to climb the hill, and the man was able to regain control.

He took a slow, deep, breath before continuing on.

For a brief moment, the man took time to appreciate the beautiful, Carolina, blue sky-something he had let slip by in the past. He read a sign on his right that had the words "Attic Treasures" painted in bright red. He smiled at the image of the old woman sitting on her porch in a rocking chair. Life could be good he thought as the truck neared the top of the hill, at least it was before he knew, before he was to find out.

A white compact car carrying a mother and her two daughters was climbing the same hill from the opposite direction. They were heading to "Attic Treasures" to purchase gifts for teachers to welcome in the new school year, a tradition that began when the oldest had started elementary school. The two girls giggled excitedly when they saw the red tin roof peek over the horizon. Ages eight and ten, both girls were eager to browse through the endless supply of trinkets the antique shop offered, and both knew that at the end of the day each would receive a surprise gift from their mom. In years past, the mother always purchased a gift for the girls and presented it to them in the parking lot before they left. The gift was always unique and rather special, something that fit perfectly with each one's personality.

As the car neared the top of the hill, the mother, ever the cautious driver, gradually slowed, put on her blinker, and checked her rear-view mirror to see if it was safe to turn. Secure that is was okay, the mother turned and crossed the highway just as the red truck came barreling over the crest.

The ten-year old, who was sitting in the front seat of the car, turned her head when something unexpected caught her eye. Her excitement quickly changed to fear when she saw the truck heading straight towards their car. Only seconds separated them from impact, and she tried to brace herself, terrified that she was going to die.

Inside the truck, the man panicked when he saw the car cross into his path. He slammed on the brakes and pulled hard to the left as the tires screamed out. The man could see the girl's frightened face inside the car, her expression frozen in time. The man knew that if he could not avoid the collision, that terrified face would haunt him for the rest of his life, and perhaps, into his afterlife.

The smell of burning rubber filled the truck's cab.

The girl screamed out as the truck fishtailed by, passing so close that she could have reached out and touched it. The truck clipped the quarter panel of the white car, sending it spinning into the parking lot. Both girls screamed hysterically as the car spun around several times before coming to a stop in a field behind the store. The mother calmly checked her children as the truck continued down the hill, realizing how lucky they were to be alive.

After hitting the car, the truck veered off the left side of the road, jumped a ditch, and with a loud thud, sideswiped a large oak. The truck careened out of control into the next yard, barely missing a couple of pines as it slid into yet another yard, heading straight for a concrete culvert that outlined the upcoming driveway. The truck slammed into the massive barrier. The deafening sound of crunching metal vibrated through the man's body as shards of shattered glass flew everywhere inside the cab. The collision caused the truck to go airborne, and it landed back in the road, momentarily riding on its left-side tires only, the man's head dangling dangerously close to the ground. Eventually, the truck rolled over on its side. Streams of sparks showered off the torn panels as the truck continued sliding across the asphalt for another two hundred feet. The truck finally skidded off the road and came to rest in a ditch opposite the Easy Mart. When the smoke cleared, the bloodied man was hanging half-way out of the driver's window, his legs held back by the lap belt.

Two men inside the store quickly ran outside when they heard the commotion. A heavy cloud of smoke lingered in the air and debris littered the roadway. Finally, they spotted the rear of the truck sticking out from the ditch.

"Get help," Carl yelled, "this looks bad."

Carl Lee was the first to reach the truck, and what he saw made him sick.

The side of the man's face was gone, the skin torn away by the rough pavement. Part of his skull was exposed. The man's left eye dangled outside its bony socket, hanging only by the optic nerve. His neck was broken, and a large piece of glass protruded from his throat. His internal wounds were spurting blood into his lungs, clogging his airways. He barely clung to life.

Carl immediately went for the seat belt, but the man pushed him away. He fumbled with something in his pocket, pulled out a small envelope, and attempted to hand it to Carl.

"Take it, " the man wheezed as blood oozed from the corners of his mouth, "Take it..."The man grabbed his throat and pulled out the piece of glass, thinking it would help, but instead blood began to squirt furiously through his fingers and all over the envelope. The man grabbed Carl's shirt and pulled him close.

"Hide them," he warned in a barely audible tone.

"Hide....them.....well."

Carl took the envelope without saying a word. Before the man could speak again, he released his grip on Carl and slumped to the ground, dead.

"Jesus, did he just die?"

The man who had come up behind Carl was Stu, the crazy Valium-loving owner of the Easy Mart. He looked down in horror at the ghastly scene.

"Damn, look at his face."

Stu turned to the fifteen-year-old boy who had followed him out to the truck.