Interstate

by Stephen Dixon

  They’re still beside him. He took his mind off them a minute but there they are, probably never left. Doesn’t look to see if the guy’s staring or anything, just sees the front of their car even with his. Looks for a trooper car. Been looking on and off since he first felt those guys were menacing him and if one’s around he’ll pull over if it’s on this side but first try to get their license plate number for he wants the cops to go after them or when this is over, even if the plate’s probably stolen or the car is for all he knows. But to get it he has to get behind them so he slows down, they slow down, maybe figuring what he wants to do, probably not. Oh yes, they know, they’re old pros at all this stuff, he doesn’t know anything about it or not much. But if a cop’s across the road in the median what’ll he do then? Car’s got him blocked. Honk, that’s what, honk like hell and open his window and wave and yell and slow down and stop on the shoulder and then back up on it if he’s by that time far away from the cop or if he’s near to get out fast and scream and wave for the cop, but get their plate number or as much of it as he can and the state. Hasn’t looked at them in a while now, feels weak at the wheel, for his kids not him, and wants to keep his eyes on the road and also on the front of their car in case he thinks they’re going to bump or ram his, turns around quickly to the kids to see if they’re all right and once through the rearview to and that time doesn’t see either of them. When a car or truck passes on the left in the speed lane he honks and honks but not once does the driver or passengers look at him when they’re near, though the guy goes between facing front with a blank look as if innocent as hell or looking at him with a concerned one and once even saying or mouthing “Anything wrong?” but a couple of passengers do look when they’re way past and in one car two young boys in back point and he thinks look alarmed at him. He wants to roll down the window and yell out “Help, stay near, help” while he continues honking, but by then they’re way out of hearing range and he’s also afraid of taking his hand off the wheel to roll down the window with the car next to him so close. Looks at the passenger window when no other cars are around and they’ve moved left a couple of feet and the guy’s just staring at him with his fist holding up his chin as if he’s studying his face hard and then he smiles almost politely and nicely and with his finger beckons to him. But to what, get his car even closer? Guy wants to say something to him? He crazy? And what’s with the smile after all they’ve done and those hideous looks before? “Girls, you all right?” “Yes, we’re all right, Daddy,” Margo says. “We’re playing by ourselves, why?” and he says “Nothing, everything’s fine. Still buckled up, though, right?” and she says “Sure, us both. Why’s that same car still there?” and he says “Oh, nothing, they like our company I suppose or my good looks,” guy smiling pleasantly at him, and she says “They gay?” and he says “Only kidding, honey, I know nothing about them.” Then looks at the man again and he’s beckoning with his finger but with this peculiar expression now, as if “Come into my dark chamber” or something, and moves the rearview around and sees both kids are busy with what they’re doing with their eyes down and he looks at the man and he has that same peculiar expression but even more sinister or demonish, and turns front: this guy means trouble, they do, they’re not letting up, they’re sticking to him, slowing and speeding with him, getting their car even closer. Or maybe the guy’s just a joker, that’s all, driver the joker’s friend, in on the joke and both just having fun playing with him, and any accident that happens to the jokee or whatever you want to call him that goes along with the fun they couldn’t give a hoot about. A car passes in the speed lane and he honks and honks and it goes even faster while he keeps his hand on the horn, guy looking front again, an angel. “Hey, you bastard,” he wants to yell, “hey, stop, slow down, look over here,” and open the window to yell it and wave but doesn’t want to cause any thoughts that might upset the kids. Maybe what these guys want is to get him all the way into the slow lane and then force him off the shoulder into something, a ditch, or over it and down some hill, but why? Kicks. Kicks. Now they’re in part of his lane and he has to move to the extreme right of it almost to the lane line. Doesn’t want to get in the slow lane because then some more muscling by them and he’s on the shoulder and whatever’s there. Car behind him on the right honks, he hadn’t seen it, driver probably thinking he’s switching lanes without signaling, and he honks and honks and the driver looks at him as she passes and he points to his left and mouths “They’re crazy, killers, they’re nuts, maniacs, I need help, get help,” and leans back so she can see through the front side windows and he doesn’t look at the guy but figures he’s doing what he did when the speeding car passed, facing front angelically, learned it sitting in church or school for when he did some lousy thing someone else got blamed for, and she scrunches up her face to a “Huh?” and shakes her head she doesn’t get it and he points and mouths “Those men, those men,” and slits his throat with his finger several times and she signals left and cuts in front of him while he’s honking like mad and more signaling to get in front of the men and then the speed lane, maybe because she’s afraid of him, maybe she even gives the men a look she is when she’s on the other side of them and the three cars are even. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Margo says and he says “Why, my honking?” stopping now and Julie says “Why were you?” and he says “That stupid woman—that driver there, I mean, on the other side of the car next to us—well, now she’s away—but cutting in front of me without signaling, she could’ve killed us. All right, she wasn’t that close, but it’s the wrong thing to do,” and Julie says “Why, she should warn you, how?” and he says “Lights, not lights but these signals,” flicking the directionals up and down—the emergency lights, he thinks, turning them on—“but let’s forget it, it upsets me but I’m okay,” hoping that just with the emergency lights and his honking whenever he sees a truck or car, they’ll drive away. Guy back to staring sinisterly at him. No other cars around, sees in the rearview and side mirrors. Nothing in front but that woman who’s got to be doing eighty now. He speeds up but so does the car alongside, slows to sixty and they slow, looks at them and they’re both laughing, looking at each other and him and back and forth like that and laughing and he thinks What’s so fucking funny? and mouths to the guy “What’s so funny?” and the guy points to him and he thinks Me, huh, me, huh?—I’d like to shove your fucking laughs and smiles and teeth right down your dirty throats, you fucking idiots, get lost, get lost, and mouths “I’m going to tell the police, do you hear me? the police,” and guy raises his shoulders so-o-o? and he slows down some more, thinks he might pull into the slow lane, looks at the right sideview, no car there anywhere, guys’ car slows down and driver honks and he looks and the guy opens his window and motions for him to open his and he thinks What? and the guy mouths or says “Open your window, open it,” and again motions with his hand to and now his face isn’t so bad, as if he only wants to tell him something like his door’s open, wheel’s low, and he says “What?” and Julie says “What, Dada?” and he says “Not talking to you,” and to the man “What?” and the guy smiles nicely and drops his hand below the window and still smiling at him shouts “You…dumb…prick,” and hand comes up but with a gun in it and points it at him. “Holy shit,” he yells, “holy God, kids, duck, get below,” and to the man “Don’t, don’t,” and to the kids “There’s a guy with a gun in that car, duck, duck,” and speeds and they speed and looks in the rearview and kids are shouting “What, Daddy, what gun?” Margo, Julie, both, and he says “Get below, the floor, on the floor, floor!” and swivels around, kids still on the seat, looking bewildered, scared, looks front and steering with his right hand, left reaches around his seat and gropes till it touches Margo’s ankle and grabs it and jerks it down and shouts “Unbuckle, get on the floor, both of you,” jerking her leg down now, “maniacs in the next car, fucking maniacs, they’ll kill us,” and they start screaming and he yells “Stop it, screaming, get down,” and looks at the guys’ ca
r, he’s too close to it and clamps both hands to the wheel and without signaling or looking pulls into the slow lane and they into the lane he left, and yells “You hear me), down, I’m saying, are you?—Margo!” and she says yes and he yells “Julie?” and Margo says yes and several cars in the speed lanes now and he slows down and honks and the guys’ car slows and honks and he speeds up and they do, honking, blocking him from any car’s view and he shouts “Oh no, what’re we going to do? keep down, down,” and they’re screaming and he thinks Think, come on, what should you do? oh my poor children, and they’re shouting “Daddy” and some other things, maybe not words but they sound like them, “mudder foam, doll bait, pip feed, call a thong, radiator so,” and looks right, shoulder seems fine to go on, thinks maybe with all the cars around the guy’s gun’s gone, looks, barrel of it on the window bottom and aimed at him, only the tip of it but enough to blow him to shit, same crazy two-faced face and the guy saying or mouthing “Hi, how ya doing, great day, wouldn’t you say?” driver busting a gut at all this and pounding the dashboard while he steers with his left hand and then no hands when he rips his hat off and whacks it against the wheel, still plenty of room on the shoulder and he drives onto it, try not to stop too suddenly and if the guys stop in front of him, go in reverse fast as you can, and in back, the reverse, go front and then try to shoot across the road without getting clipped and onto the median if one’s there, looks and one’s there, and then tear north and if they chase him, well, later, if it happens, later but now stop, does, too suddenly, kids pitched into his seat and he’s thrown forward and back, guys go on but then the crazy sticks his arm all the way out with the gun and with his face behind it seems to be taking aim at them, and he yells “Kids, down, stay down,” and dives to the seat and there’s gunshots, windshield shatters but doesn’t break, screams in back just before or just when the shots are fired and then, which one? just Margo screaming. “Julie,” he yells, “Julie, you okay? Margo, you too? They’re gone but both you stay down till I look.” Nothing from Julie. “Margo, tell me if you’re all right.” But the men, and lifts his head just enough to see their car’s not in front, and turns around, they might’ve, but they couldn’t’ve, but they might’ve gone on the median and around and then from behind and on the shoulder in back, and lifts his head above the seat but they’re not there and unbuckles and jumps up on the seat and looks down and Margo’s screaming and he yells “Shush, tell me, come on, are you all right?” and she says “Just my knees hurt from bumping the seat, but I think so,” and he says “You think you’re otherwise okay?” quickly looking through all but the passenger-side windows to see that the men didn’t come back and she says yes, rubbing her knees, and he says “Julie,” looking at her, on her side, no look back, “Julie, what about Julie?” and reaches down, can’t reach her, that eye’s closed and he thinks maybe she’s unconscious, just her head hurt from hitting the seat, it’s facing in that direction for that to happen, but otherwise okay, a cut and concussion but nothing else much, and Margo shrieks and says “Daddy, there’s blood,” Julie doesn’t stir, and he says “Yours?” and she says “I don’t think so, it doesn’t seem like I’m bleeding,” and he says “Check, check,” and she feels herself all around and says “I’m sure I’m not, not even my knees, they don’t feel wet,” and he leans over some more and stretches down to Julie, doesn’t want to move her but has to to find out, should he get out of the car and go in the door where she is and do it that way? no, do it now, touches her but almost falls over and gets on the passenger seat and reaches down and lifts her up by an armpit till he can grab under both arms and lift her up straight, her legs stay on the floor, head flops around before settling, she doesn’t seem to be breathing, there’s blood on her neck and chin and coming through her sweater, and holding her around the back with one hand, unbuttons the top of her sweater and then her shirt and pulls down her undershirt soaked with blood, all the time saying “Oh no, oh no,” and thinking I know what it is, I don’t want to know what it is, and screams when he sees blood running out of a bullet hole.