Jon

The long nights weren’t the worst of it. Work had never been an issue for Jon. He was raised hard and hearty by parents who meant well but pushed him. It wasn’t the poor pay or the disrespect either. Neither of those means much to a man nearing the end of his rope.

No, what really got to Jon was the solitude. Jon worked while his family slept, finding sleep during the day while his wife raised their kid. He was missing everything that mattered to him.

Driving down Highway 525, with high beams on and head on a swivel, Jon realized he hadn’t seen another car all night. There was something ineffable about that kind of emptiness.

If he were being honest, that wasn’t it either.

But Jon was never honest. Not really.

Honesty was hard because, in truth, solitude was only difficult because it left him alone with himself. The person he hated most of all. If he hadn’t been so self-deprecating, self-sabotaging, and self-centered, he’d have realized that was all about him too. It always had been.

He shook his head and tried to think of his family. He could at least try to be happy for them. To have them, even if he didn’t deserve them.

But that was easy to believe when he was home and distracted. When he was alone with himself, he just had the open road, the endless darkness of night, and the itching to keep him company.

The scratches on his arm still oozed where that kid from the gas station had scratched him up. The wounds should have healed by now, but even with constant care and fresh bandages every day, they still seeped angrily.

You’re probably infected.

A trip to the doctor would only result in bills he couldn’t afford and confirmation of the worst. Better to just try and ignore it. How much worse could such shallow scratches even get?

From the corner of his eye, Jon saw a flash of white at the side of the road. It was momentary, but it made every muscle in his body clench. Taking his foot off the gas, he let the truck coast for a moment. It was too late to stop if anything happened.

No bump came. It couldn’t have gone under the tires. Slowly, he began to accelerate again.

Nothing happened. It was just nerves.

Somewhere behind him on the northern end of the island, his wife and son were still asleep. He squinted at the clock on his dashboard but couldn’t make out the time. Luckily, his internal clock was good.

It would be close to 3am now. In a few hours, he’d be at Elizabeth’s Haven, and then he’d have an hour to sleep before making the crossing. Sure, he didn’t have to get the first ferry – many of his fellow truckers didn’t. They would wait till morning, have breakfast with their families before catching the second ferry.

But his route started and ended near the military base. Someone had to haul goods up that far. Besides, it’s not like he could afford to live in Elizabeth’s Haven.

He saw the white flash again, further away this time. Enough time to make out the shape of a woman in a long white dress walking down the road towards him.

“What the fuck?”

Jon thought about slowing down. No one would be out alone this late on this stretch of road if they weren’t in trouble.

Another moment passed, and Jon realized he hadn’t even moved his foot off the gas, let alone to the brake.

She’d be long gone by now, and he had places to be.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jon remembered that imagined family breakfast. He could smell the coffee brewing. Salty, mouth-watering bacon with a side of runny eggs, the crispy shards of pork cutting open the yolk, allowing that golden syrup to mix with ketchup like an artery-blocking crime scene.

He had a bag of chips in the glovebox. That would have to do.

Jon just had to keep his mind on the destination and his eyes on the road. Maybe a bit of music would help. Turning the dials of his old radio, he found nothing but static.

“Shit-can of a rig,” Jon swore as he brought his fist down on the dash.

The static swelled into a tidal wave of hissing and muttering voices.

A twist of the wrist and the voices were silenced.

Just one more thing to fix. Another bill to pay. At best, he’d find another old radio, install it himself, and once again have the luxuries of another man from another age. Old, hand-me-down, out of date, out of touch, out of his mind…

Jon sighed; he’d make do. There was no sense in losing his cool. There was no one out there but him. He was his only company. Better not to be bad company.

White again.

This time, Jon got a good look at her, lit up in the headlights. Black hair fluttered in the night air, stark against the white gown. Dark eyes cast forward, either disinterested or unaware of the truck as it sped beside her. Pale face full of determination.

Jon slowed, readying to pull into the parking lot of the convenience store he’d been avoiding.

As hungry as he was, food wasn’t even on his mind now. He had to turn around.

His heart was racing, and so was his mind. The impossibility of it was drowned out by the guilt. He’d let it go twice already, but even a selfish heart could only ignore the call so many times.

As Jon pulled in, he tried not to look at the entrance. Tried not to think of how he stood frozen, only able to ask the delirious cashier if he was okay. But as his arm ached, he couldn’t help but picture the face of that kid – eyes full of hate, crowned in hair so greasy it seemed to drip down his young face.

The truck handled like a space station as it creaked across the gravel as he made the wide turn to go back.

The police had asked if he would like to press charges. He didn’t, even if they hadn’t really given him a chance to calm down before requiring an answer. It wasn’t even because of how little he wanted to speak to the police.

Scared as he was, Jon still pitied the kid.

He was clearly sick.

The truck lurched back down the highway.

Where had she been?

In the dark, all roads looked identical. Just pitted tarmac and endless white birch. He thought his high beams were on, but he must have been mistaken. His headlights could barely penetrate that endless void.

He tried to flick on his high beams but accidentally shut the lights off entirely, plunging him into complete darkness going eight miles an hour.

His heart skipped a beat as he frantically fiddled with the control arm and finally brought light back to the road.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief; that was too close. Even if he thought he was going perfectly straight, he could have been off the road in moments. He could see it in his mind – he and his truck torn apart by speed and splintering trees.

Another deep breath. The thudding of his heart slowed, and he was once again able to take stock of his situation.

He was now going in the wrong direction, scanning the road for a stranger.

How long could he afford to do this? He moved his eyes to glance at the clock…and froze.

“Thank you. Not many would have picked me up.”

The voice was wispy, almost kind, but full of strain. Like her vocal cords were stretched, nearly to the point of snapping.

Jon didn’t turn. He kept his eyes on the road. It wasn’t possible. If he just ignored it, maybe the world would soon agree. However, he could only rationalize so much; when he made to check the clock, he’d seen her dress.

“I hope it isn’t inconvenient.”

Jon opened his dry mouth to speak but stopped. No, he couldn’t engage with her. Talking to her would be like agreeing with this. Like admitting it was real. He couldn’t do that.

“You might be going the wrong way, but the two of us only have so far to go now. In the end, it won’t really matter.”

Jon tried to ignore her. He thought of his family, picturing them around the breakfast table. He could hear his wife and son laughing. They could be happy. They would be happy.

“Alone on the road, there is no one to lie to but yourself.”

Could he admit it though? Was he strong enough to acknowledge how bad it had gotten?

“Sometimes it’s easier to just tell a stranger.”

The voice was comforting, but eerily familiar.

Jon cleared his throat and wondered if he could take it back once he said it out loud.

“I drive through the night because I have to. I do it because I can’t stand saying goodbye to them.”

An airy laugh erupted from the passenger seat.

“It’s easier to pretend you’re alone in this, like you’re the only one suffering. But I already knew that. Tell me something no one else knows.”

He refused to look. Even as every fiber of his being ached to know. Even as his mind was about to break with wonder. How did he know that voice?

“Something no one would believe,” the voice said, malice creeping into the words. “Why don’t you tell me you love me?”

Jon turned to see the face of his wife. Short auburn hair framing a face full of disgust and tears.

“You should keep your eyes on the road, Jon.”

He glanced at the highway just in time to see a woman in white coming into view.

Brakes screeched, but it was too late. The air was filled with the smell of burning rubber as her body crumpled against the grill of the truck. Blood flecked the windshield before she disappeared, pulled in tattered streamers of flesh and cloth beneath the thunderous vehicle.

Jon awoke with a start to see it was nearly 7am. He wiped his eyes and tried to shake off the nightmare.

It had felt so real. The passage of time so consistent, the weight of the truck exactly right. The crunch of the body so…

Just leave it.

There wasn’t enough time to worry over a dream. He had to keep moving, like always.

Once he was on the ferry, he could grab a coffee and some painkillers.

He rubbed his aching arm and saw the bandages were seeping again.