David Wisehart: Blood Alley

The patrol car surged forward.

It drove between the tanker truck and the guard rail.

Joshua saw the move.

“Big mistake.”

He turned hard left.

The tanker truck sideswiped the patrol car and drove the black-and-white against the rail. Metal screeched.

The rail bent and broke.

The tires of the patrol car flirted with the edge of the cliff.

In the mirror Joshua saw the Highwayman emerge from the policeman’s body and climb up through the roof of the patrol car.

The patrol car tipped and went over the edge as the Highwayman jumped off the falling vehicle and onto the tanker trunk.

All right, you bastard, come and get me.

In the mirror, Joshua saw the Highwayman coming for him, edging his way from the rear tank to the cab.

A thrill of anticipation ran through him. He’d waited ten years for this, a chance to confront the Highwayman again. On his own terms.

I’m ready.

For a decade he was haunted by a single question: “Why did I survive?” Year after year, the death toll rose on Blood Alley. Why did he live when so many others died?

Now he knew the answer. He knew his purpose. He knew his moment.

The moment is now.

Words came to him from the well of memory, a poem he once learned in school. He recited the words aloud:

“ The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees… ”

The Highwayman crept along the side of the rear tank.

“ The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas… ”

The Highwayman reached the hitch between the two tanks, and climbed up.

“ The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor… ”

The Highwayman stepped onto the closed sunroof of the cab.

“ And the highwayman came riding—riding—riding—the highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door. ”

The Highwayman dropped down, passing straight through the metal and glass, into the cab.

And into the driver.

Joshua felt a chill run through his body.

Fight him!

A chill ran through his soul.

You gotta fight him—

His muscles tensed.

Gotta know who you are—

He stifled a scream.

Who you really are—

In the mirror, his brown eyes glowed green.

I am the Highwayman.

Still he struggled— know who you are— not giving up— know who— not giving in—

I am!

The green glow of his eyes faded to brown.

Claire rounded a bend and saw the Devil’s Tunnel up ahead.

Almost there…

Joshua’s petroleum tanker truck was right behind her as she entered the tunnel at 90 miles per hour.

It was a long tunnel lit by overhead fluorescents that flashed past her at a dizzying pace. The tunnel turned ahead. She couldn’t see the end, or how far the road stretched.

Almost there…

A tunnel light went out as the Hummer passed by.

And the next light.

And the next.

One by one they flickered and died.

Man and phantom struggled for possession of Joshua’s body.

I am the Highwayman! You are weak! You are nothing!

Joshua focused all of his attention on his right hand, which clenched the steering wheel.

My name is Joshua…

If he could reach the brake button—

You have no power!

Not the yellow one, but the red one—

This is my hand…

The red emergency breakaway brake—

Move it…

His right hand, under Joshua’s control, let go of the steering wheel. His human hand separated from the phantom hand, which still clenched the wheel.

Joshua reached for the red button, the emergency trailer breakaway brake. If he could pull the red button, the trailer brakes would activate.

But not the truck brakes.

At this speed, if the trailer brakes locked—with the truck accelerating and the trailer decelerating—the differential could rip the trailer from the truck.

Only one way to find out.

With every ounce of his will, Joshua pulled on the red button.

He felt the sharp jolt of the cab.

He heard the snap! of the trailer hitch.

He watched in the mirror as the rear tank uncoupled from the truck.

The truck surged forward, faster now, relieved of the weight of the trailer.

The trailer rolled free on the road behind, carried forward by inertia, but moving slower. Momentum overpowered the breakaway brakes and kept the trailer chasing the truck. The trailer drifted into the tunnel wall. The petroleum tank’s smooth metal shell scraped against the bricks.

Sparks flew.

The tank burst open.

Fuel ignited in the tunnel.

Whoooosh!

A wall of flame chased the truck through the narrow passage.

In the mirror Joshua saw the burning tank tumble after him.

One last thing—

He moved his hand to the yellow button.

The phantom hand left the steering wheel and repossessed Joshua’s human hand.

Nice try, old man!

Joshua strained to pull the yellow brake button.

The Highwayman resisted.

Remember who you are…

You are the Highwayman!

My name is…

Joshua!

His hand pulled hard on the yellow button.

The brakes engaged.

The truck skidded.

Scraped a wall.

Spun one hundred and eighty degrees.

And came to a full stop.

Through the windshield, Joshua saw the wall of flame rush straight toward him.

He saw the trailer tank burning and bouncing on the collision path.

Welcome to Hell…

The trailer crashed into the truck, and the second tank exploded.

Claire sped through the narrow tunnel, pursued by flames.

In the mirror she saw Joshua’s body thrown forward by the blast wave.

Flames reached the Hummer.

Engulfed it.

Claire heard and felt a thump! on the roof.

She looked up and saw Joshua’s burnt face peer down through the sunroof. His face was slack, without expression. Joshua was dead, but his open eyes glowed green.

The corpse slid off the Hummer.

Landed on the road behind.

The blast wave pushed the car forward even faster. The Hummer was surrounded by a roiling wall of fire.

Tongues of flame licked in through the broken back window and the open sunroof.

Travel bags in the back compartment caught fire.

All around her, the tunnel began to collapse. Chunks of falling debris dented the roof. A sharp shard fell through the sunroof and struck Claire in the arm, glancing off.

Dirt and cement fell into the path ahead. Claire jerked the steering wheel left and right and left again, dodging debris.

In the front passenger seat, Dakota’s corpse jostled with each bump and swerve.

The dead girl sat up slowly in her seat.

Claire’s heart stopped.

What—?

Dakota turned to face Claire.

“Dakota! You’re alive! Oh thank God you’re—”

The girl opened her eyes.

Dakota’s eyes glowed green.

No! It’s not possible.

The Highwayman had possessed Joshua, and Joshua had—

Oh, no.

Dakota lunged and grabbed Claire’s throat, choking her.

Claire tried to fight her off. With one hand she punched and jabbed Dakota, but she had to keep her other hand on the wheel and her foot on the gas.

With the Highwayman inside her, Dakota was too strong.

The phantom spoke in Dakota’s voice, “ Claire… ”

Far ahead, sirens wailed.

Police.

Someone must have radioed for help.

They can’t help me now.