Breakdown Lane

My son asked me a question tonight.

“Daddy, have you ever seen a monster?” he asked. At seven, he was asking all the questions he could think of. Most of the time, it was adorable, but not tonight.

“No, buddy, sorry I never have,” I said, lying to my only child's face.

He wasn’t ready to hear it, and I wasn’t ready to tell him.

It happened in the fall of my senior year of high school. I was seventeen. At the time, I worked the closing shift at the local McDonalds. It was mid-October, and the weather was cold and clear. I drove a 1984 ford escort wagon colored baby shit tan. I was a Senior in High School, and my girlfriend had just broken up with me again. Add to all of that. I smelled like French fries and burger grease.

Life kind of sucked.

Radio blaring, I decided to take a long way home. If I timed it right, my father would have already left for work, and I could have a shower and get to bed without the usual fight. It usually started with him wanting to know when I would start applying for college and me telling him I had no idea what I wanted to do, and there was no reason to waste money, especially since he was not giving me a damn dime for school.

Kracker’s “Low” came on the radio, and I tapped the steering wheel in time with the music.

I was almost so lost in the song, tiredness, and my irritation with my father that I almost missed the car pulled off to the side of the room and woman waving her arms for help.

I considered leaving her there. I admit it. I was two in the morning, and I was going to leave a woman alone on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

I cursed myself for taking the long way and pulled to the shoulder in front of the other car.

The woman was already running to my door when I got out.

“Get back in!” she yelled.

Then grabbing the handle of the driver's side back door and pulling hard, she added, “It got John, it got John, and if we don’t go now, it’s going to get us!” before jumping in and slamming the door shut.

I heard the door lock.

“Get in and drive!” she yelled, pounding the inside glass of the window.

Instead of doing what she said, I started toward the abandoned car.

“NO!” she screamed but didn’t get out of the car.

The car was a dark blue BMW. The passenger side headlight and bumper were smashed in, and what looked like blood coated the metal. Both the passenger and driver side doors stood wide open.

This is fucked up. I thought, taking half a dozen steps back from the ominous steel beast.

Then I heard the howl.

I knew at that moment, somewhere in the darkness, a monster lurked.

Turning on my heels, I ran for the car.

The howl, now a roar, filled the air. The source now much closer and gaining ground.

“HURRY!” the woman yelled.

I don’t know what she was looking at. I had no idea what was chasing me. But it didn’t matter because she looked terrified, and that was more than enough to motivate me.

Reaching the door, I could feel the heat of its breath on my back.

The car shook when I slammed the door shut.

“Go, drive!” the woman yelled, punching the back of my seat.

I wanted to yell at her, but the sound died when I caught sight of a large yellow eye in the side view mirrors.

Throwing the car in gear and putting the peddle to the metal, my little escort peeled out and roared onto the road. I drove as fast as I could, and I could hear the woman crying in the back seat.

I took her to the police station so she could report her husband being attacked by a wild animal. I backed her up, leaving out that single yellow eye.

At first light, the police went to look for him. It took three days to find his body, and when they did, it was more bones than flesh.

Since that night, I have stuck to the main roads and avoided all shortcuts.

I never want to see that yellow eye again.

The End