The passage below is an excerpt from the story Highway 109, from Dark Trails: A Collection of Horror Short Stories from the Visionary Mind of Dexter Holland.
Ted glanced at the illuminated dashboard clock. The bright numbers cast a greenish glow on the surrounding wood-grain inlay. 1:16. After some quick math, Ted guessed he would be arriving home shortly after two o’clock. He was hoping to get a chance to talk to his son before he went to bed. The only time he ever saw the boy these days was for a few seconds every morning when they both jumped in their separate cars to go their separate directions. That’s the reason he was in a hurry. What was today, Friday? Oh yea, his son would definitely still be up, pumping his brain full of whatever crap they showed on late night television, probably hopped up on some sort of drug as well.
This was a new discovery. Ted had found some small white pills in the pocket of a pair of his jeans two days ago, and last week the remnants of some white powder and a rolled up twenty dollar bill had been left out on the coffee table in the basement. Ted was at his wits end. As a father, he knew he had to intervene somehow, but at the same time, he knew exactly how it would play out. The boy was eighteen now, and the second he felt the urge he could simply move out and Ted would never see him again. That reason alone was why Ted hadn’t yet confronted him about the drugs. He couldn’t bear for the only person he loved to leave.
His little boy hadn’t always been like this. Over the past two years though, his attitude had steadily gotten worse and worse. Ted blamed the new kids he’d been hanging out with. Most were just your average punks; the kind of kids you labeled “bad influence” just by looking at them. They all wore black, dyed their hair black and blackened their lungs with cigarettes that they held between black-painted fingernails. The tall one was different though. The tall one actually creeped him out. That seemed such a childish thing for a forty year old man, being creeped out, but Ted couldn’t put it any other way. Ted had only met him once but there was something about the way he fixed you with that piercing glare that made you want to lock all your doors at night. And that tattoo, why the hell would anyone get such a tattoo on their throat?
Ted shivered just thinking about it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. Maybe his son would answer this time. He pushed the resend button and held it up to his ear. Good, it was ringing. Half the time he didn’t even get service out on this lonesome road.
“Yo, you’ve reached…” Ted snapped the phone shut. Voicemail.
“Dammit,” he breathed as he dropped the phone in the cup holder at his side. A flash caught his eye and he glanced up in his rear view mirror. There was a car about fifty feet behind him, its headlights shining like twin suns through the dead night. He hadn’t seen it coming up, but on these mountain roads that wasn’t unusual. Ted returned his attention to the road in front of him, his thoughts again drifting back to the best way to confront his son. Maybe he could try counseling again. It hadn’t worked before but it couldn’t hurt to give it another shot. Dammit, Janet had always known how to talk to him. Janet could’ve…
Ted snapped back to reality as the car behind him crashed into his rear bumper. He fishtailed wildly, fighting for control at eighty miles an hour. After a few hair-raising seconds he got the Hyundai straightened out again. Furious, he hit the brakes and looked back again at the car. Its high beams were on, leaving twin translucent spots in his vision, black edged with neon blue. Suddenly the car swerved out into the other lane. Inch by inch it pulled up beside his. Ted craned his neck to get a glimpse of the nut that rear ended him. He sucked his breath in sharply. On the other side of the window a hooded skull was staring back at him. A gloved hand slowly raised a large serrated hunting knife and pressed it against the window.
His little boy hadn’t always been like this. Over the past two years though, his attitude had steadily gotten worse and worse. Ted blamed the new kids he’d been hanging out with. Most were just your average punks; the kind of kids you labeled “bad influence” just by looking at them. They all wore black, dyed their hair black and blackened their lungs with cigarettes that they held between black-painted fingernails. The tall one was different though. The tall one actually creeped him out. That seemed such a childish thing for a forty year old man, being creeped out, but Ted couldn’t put it any other way. Ted had only met him once but there was something about the way he fixed you with that piercing glare that made you want to lock all your doors at night. And that tattoo, why the hell would anyone get such a tattoo on their throat?
Ted shivered just thinking about it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. Maybe his son would answer this time. He pushed the resend button and held it up to his ear. Good, it was ringing. Half the time he didn’t even get service out on this lonesome road.
“Yo, you’ve reached…” Ted snapped the phone shut. Voicemail.
“Dammit,” he breathed as he dropped the phone in the cup holder at his side. A flash caught his eye and he glanced up in his rear view mirror. There was a car about fifty feet behind him, its headlights shining like twin suns through the dead night. He hadn’t seen it coming up, but on these mountain roads that wasn’t unusual. Ted returned his attention to the road in front of him, his thoughts again drifting back to the best way to confront his son. Maybe he could try counseling again. It hadn’t worked before but it couldn’t hurt to give it another shot. Dammit, Janet had always known how to talk to him. Janet could’ve…
Ted snapped back to reality as the car behind him crashed into his rear bumper. He fishtailed wildly, fighting for control at eighty miles an hour. After a few hair-raising seconds he got the Hyundai straightened out again. Furious, he hit the brakes and looked back again at the car. Its high beams were on, leaving twin translucent spots in his vision, black edged with neon blue. Suddenly the car swerved out into the other lane. Inch by inch it pulled up beside his. Ted craned his neck to get a glimpse of the nut that rear ended him. He sucked his breath in sharply. On the other side of the window a hooded skull was staring back at him. A gloved hand slowly raised a large serrated hunting knife and pressed it against the window.
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