NIGHT
FLYERS
Postern
of Fate, the Desert Gate, Disaster’s Cavern,
Fort of Fear...
Pass
not beneath, O Caravan, or pass not singing.
Have you heard
That
silence where the birds are dead, yet something
pipeth like a bird?
Gates of Damascus, James Ellroy Flecker
Rice
Deckart was driving like a maniac. He was driving like the devil himself was
after him, and in a way, it was. Despite the danger his driving itself was
putting him in, Rice tried to get a little more speed from his car’s already
straining four-cylinder engine.
His
evening had begun hours before, when on a whim he drove up to the hillside
suburbs, to see if he could find the mansion Jake had mentioned once, the one
that looked like a castle. Rice had thought that with Jake interstate, maybe
the old fart that lived there would need a new personal confidential secretary.
He
hadn’t found the place. And shortly after leaving the main road through the
hills to take the overpass back down to town, he had picked up the monstrous
lights that were still chasing him now…
The
car’s engine strained as it continued to race along the winding hills road.
Rice wrestled with the wheel every other turn, trying to keep his speed as high
as possible without going straight off the descending road and over the edge
into the deep gorges that bordered the asphalt or into the hillside stone
shoulder on the other side.
Darting
a look in his rear-view mirror he saw what looked like a pair of red
brakelights from a truck, swarming into view, getting closer… But he knew they
weren’t brakelights; they were eyes…
He
gunned the car again, but it was travelling as fast it could. On the next turn
the wheels squealed and creaked as Rice turned the car again to turn the
corner. Below him he could see he would be racing into mists that had risen
from further down the hillside. Getting out of this one would require all his
skill and capacity.
He
struggled with the acceleration like his life depended on it… because his
life depended on it.
From behind
him came a long low howl, followed by a growling, screaming noise that reached
an almost deafening crescendo… the sound warped, warbled and altered, shifting
until it was akin to the high pitched scream of a jet engine married to the
ululating high-pitched terrified scream of a woman facing murder or worse.
Rice zoomed
down the highway in his car, listening to the rumble from the wheels, the
straining sounds of death from the engine and the new and ominous rattles from
somewhere under the hood.
One way or
another it wouldn’t be long now…
He risked
another glance back, and saw nothing. Relieved in an instant, he eased off the
accelerator, taking the next corner wildly wide but still at a less terminally
fast pace than the preceding curves.
At the
following curve, Rice passed a semi-trailer going in the other direction, its
red running-lights providing another small shock to his system as his car
continued to slow down to a more normal running speed.
After a
little while, Rice pulled over, switching his car engine off and opening his
car door to stretch his legs and calm down. He fumbled in the glove box for a
half-drunk bottle of Diet Coke. Grabbing it, he quickly took the top off and
drained the remaining liquid in a few brisk gulps. Almost as soon as it hit his
stomach, he had to relieve himself, and strode a few steps from his car to a
convenient large gum tree overlooking the ravine below the road. He looked back
at his car and saw its yellow and brown bumper sticker,
I'M ONE
OF THOSE BAD THINGS
THAT
HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE
It always made him smile.
Zipping up he
looked down into the ravine again.
Down there,
the bottom of the hills road met with the top of the easternmost road through
the centre of town. There was a thicket of light poles, traffic lights and
signs at that corner. He passed it at night all the time, going to or from his
girlfriend or commuting to his dead-end job. He operated the machine that
shrink-wrapped magazines for a local distributor. Rice breathed deeply a few
times, enjoying the fresh forest air of the hills. His breath caught in his
chest. He squinted to try and somehow see more detail down in the ravine. There
were a pair of red lights… brakelights… or…
The lights
flared brighter and larger. They began rising, following not the road but a
straight course across the ravine and into the air…
Rice ran to
the car, started up and revved the engine. Behind him, he could already see the
twin red lights glaring in the rear-view mirror. They glided across the roadway
and began coming towards him up the hill. With a stifled gasp, he turned the
car around, and headed up the hill.
The strain of
climbing the hill at speed immediately told on Rice’s car. The rattle returned
and got louder and louder. Even so, he managed to coax the long-suffering
little vehicle up to 90, then 95… but it couldn’t go faster up the hill.
The red
lights, and whatever dark shape it was behind them, soared after him and this
time soon tailgated the car. As soon as the lights were close enough to fill
his vehicle with ghastly blood-red light, all power cut off in the car. Rice
tried to maintain control of the vehicle, but the wheel seized up, the
headlights cut out, all the displays on his dashboard went dead. Then the car
was skidding across the road, towards the edge…
There was a
smashing, crashing, grinding noise that went on for an eternity and built in
volume until Rice screamed out loud to try and drown it out. He felt his head
hit the steering wheel and heard something snap with a loud cracking noise.
Then the car was up and over the barrier and in midair, with the red light still
flooding everything like a prevision of the gore that must surely soon splash
everywhere.
For a moment,
held in time like a bubble in ice, Rice felt no weight, the noise of the car
had ceased, all was quiet and it seemed as though his life would pass with him
floating, levitating in his smashed car. There was a burning sensation and a
smell like sulphur coming from somewhere, here and there on his body there were
points of pain like insect bites, insect bites that kept spreading and
connecting together to form a net of blinding pain.
Then the car
hit the floor of the ravine. The vehicle ruptured like a freshly cracked egg
splashing down into a red-hot frying pan, quickly losing its essential form and
feature in a blast of traumatic alteration.
Rice was
crumpled into the wreck. Then as the car split like a seedpod he was catapulted
into the air and spun into the ground. He hit head first into the scree and
rubble of the gorge and rolled to a stop. The car hissed and rattled. Then all
was still once more.
Rice was
still alive, immobilised with a terrifying numbness rather than with the pain
he had so feared.
He was in
pitch-blackness, or he was blind.
Presently he
saw shapes. Unable to move, he saw a circumscribed slice of the ravine,
including the wreck, which was a dark shape. Then everything was etched in ruby
clearness by the fierce glow from a pair of huge round eyes.
A thing from
nightmare flopped and hopped towards him, perching on the wreck before
continuing its waddling gait to him. As Rice tried to make animal noises of
terror he found that his smashed mouth felt like it was full of peanuts… as he
blubbered and burbled he realised they were his teeth, free to dribble through
the holes in his torn face as he continued to gibber in fear.
The creature
stretched its wings. Each of them had dark claws set halfway along their
rubbery, lugubrious length. The claws were like bunches of bananas, but when
they stretched wide, Rice saw that their tips were razor sharp points. They
were designed to slice and rip raw meat. Or carrion…
As the
monster lurched over Rice, he tried to look away or shut his eyes, but he could
not even do that. The last thing he saw was the creature stretching to its full
huge height and width, triumphant, claws ready and curving to attack… There was
a shrill scream of triumph like a chorus of eagles…
Then the
monster fell upon him like a curtain dropping on a stage.
Lights out.
story (c) Jonathan Nolan 2002
people have plunged to their death so far...
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