Kyle had always been a levelheaded type of person. The difference between dreams and reality was never blurred for him; it was a crystal clear barrier distinctly separating two states of mind. But lately he was beginning to doubt the authenticity of that barrier for the first time in his life.
Taking both hands off the wheel and using his leg to steer, Kyle rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t tired, but the monotonous droning of the car’s engine, coupled with the overused cassette tapes he’d brought along for the journey, did sap his energy somewhat and toy with his perceptions of reality.
They were called hallucinations, seemingly impossible distortions of what was real. They usually manifested themselves during stressful or lonely times, when one’s mind wandered from the comfort of normalcy, and ventured into the bizarre realm of what is not real.
Kyle slid his hands back onto the steering wheel and shook his head back and forth, clearing his long, blonde hair out of his face. He ran through possible explanations for what he saw, or thought he saw, in the rear-view mirror. Seeing a young boy riding a motorcycle in the middle of the road was certainly not an unheard of scenario, but not in the middle of the night on a God-forsaken stretch of road between nowhere and nothing.
Was the kid real? And if he was, where did he go? Kyle had noticed him one minute, motoring lazily along, and the next minute he was gone, snatched away into an invisible void.
Kyle looked at the road ahead of him. The headlights only illuminated about twenty feet, gradually giving way to darkness. There was nothing on either side of the road. Only vast stretches of featureless, rolling plains flanked the solitary car slicing through them on a cracked ribbon of asphalt.
And then a strange and disturbing thought drifted into Kyle’s mind. What if those plains decided to come to life and close the gap between them? He wouldn’t be fast enough to escape. His car and everything in it would simply be swallowed whole by the night.
The whirling squeal of a cassette tape being eaten snapped Kyle out of his thoughts. He cursed as the eject button only released a twisted roll of ruined recording tape. He loved that cassette and silently vowed to himself that when he reached civilization he would do his best to find another one, maybe in compact disc, but another one nonetheless.
The rear-view mirror revealed the boy, driving along on his motorcycle as if trying to escape from something. Even though Kyle couldn’t see his face, which was obscured by both his flailing hair and the distance between them, he knew it was the same kid. And he was also certain that the distance between them was shorter than before.
This disturbing fact made Kyle’s head ache and his stomach churn. How could he be gaining on him…if he wasn’t even real? Kyle did have to admit that the kid looked faintly familiar; at least in a passing stranger type of way, but still didn’t know who he was or what he wanted.
Forcing himself to accept the fact that it was only his imagination Kyle focused on the road with all his might, thinking about his destination also; his big brother Rick’s marriage. Kyle was happy for him and all but felt cheated in a way. Just because he hadn’t found Mrs. Right yet didn’t mean he wasn’t as good of a man as his brother. Still, he was happy for his older sibling, and was looking forward to seeing the family at the wedding.
The miles flew by, taking time along for the ride. Even though the only company Kyle had was his cassette tapes he managed all right. Boredom threatened to creep into his mind frequently, but he kept it at bay. He turned the knob on the stereo until it clicked into the off position, and silence, other than the steady hum of the engine, filled the car’s interior. Again, his mind wandered towards the road in front of him.
Dull yellow lines separating the lanes slid under the car like innumerable snakes struggling to get out of the way. The darkness on either side was as thick as ever, concealing not only any potentially dangerous animals, but its true intentions as well. A suffocating feeling hung heavy in the air, and started to creep into Kyle’s thoughts. If anything were to happen to him it would be days until they found him, if at all.
The kid was closer than ever now, so close that Kyle could see his face for the first time. He was an average looking teenager, probably 18 or 19 years old, whose scraggly blonde hair whirled around his head like it had a life of its own. He wore faded, torn blue jeans and an equally worn black jean jacket. All in all, he was an ordinary looking kid simply driving his motorcycle.
Kyle instinctively pressed on the gas pedal and the car surged forward. But the kid on the motorcycle stayed right with him. In fact, he was gaining on Kyle some more, eventually pulling up alongside, an uneasy, almost pitiful smile stretched across his face.
“You won’t be fast enough,” the kid yelled out, much louder than the car’s engine.
Kyle, puzzled by the words shouted back, “What do you mean?”
The kid smiled even wider, revealing brown, rotted teeth. “You won’t be fast enough,” he repeated. “I wasn’t. Nobody ever is.” And with that cryptic message he raced ahead and vanished into the night.
What the heck did the kid mean? Was he trying to escape from something? Was something chasing him?
And then the recollection hit Kyle like a brick in the face. He suddenly remembered where he’d seen the kid before; in the news, back in town before he hit the road. It was the same boy who’d gone missing about a month before while on a road trip.
It was the same kid, Kyle was sure of it.
Feeling himself starting to sweat despite the cool, night air blowing on his face Kyle depressed the gas pedal and watched the orange speedometer needle pass rows of numbers.
45 MPH: What did he mean I wouldn’t be fast enough?
55 MPH: Was something trying to get him?
70 MPH: What happened to him, and why didn’t they ever find his body?
Kyle rubbed his weary eyes, hoping to wake up from the nightmare. The long trip, the isolation, the lack of another’s voice; all were beginning to take a toll on him.
He swung his attention back to the road ahead. Although he couldn’t explain it he had an uneasy feeling settling over him, and he couldn’t shake it.
A lump formed in his throat when he noticed the road ahead of him seemed to be, no, it was narrowing! There was no doubt about it.
The impossibility of what he was seeing froze the blood in his veins.
He started panicking; something caught his attention in the rear-view mirror. The road behind him was also narrowing. He watched in horror as the dark fields on either side converged towards each other, swallowing any trace of the road. One second it was there, the next second it was gone.
You won’t be fast enough.
The haunting words crept back into Kyle’s mind. Now they made sense. Now he understood what the kid had meant.
Slowly, painfully, Kyle looked back at the road ahead of him. The beams from the headlights sliced into the darkness, but only illuminated a thin ribbon of quickly disappearing asphalt no wider than a foot or two.
With the realization of his impending fate searing into his brain Kyle slammed the gas pedal to the floor, even though he knew very well that he wouldn’t be fast enough.
© 2010 Rick McQuiston
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