Road Rage

by Ennie
Rated PG13

Mike breathed a curse and struggled to keep his cool as the car came closer and closer. When Mike realised the guy wasn't going to swerve, he did.

But instead of going out of the way, the truck swerved as well, crashing full force into the Monkeemobile and knocking Mike into a spin in the most dangerous part of the curve.

Mike fought with the wheel, but it was no use. He spun out of control and it was only by some kind of divine intervention that he ended up still on the road. He lay his forehead on the steering wheel when the car stopped, taking a few deep breaths to ease his racing heart.

His eyes opened when he heard the ominous rev of an engine. He looked up to see the black truck parked a few hundred yards away, revving. "Aw, NO?" he groaned. "What the hell is this guy's PROBLEM?"

Suddenly the truck lurched forward, its engine roaring a challenge. Mike threw the car in reverse and let the truck go by, only to swallow hard as it spun around, throwing gravel from the side of the road.

Mike spun the wheel hard and whirled the Monkeemobile around...a difficult feat for such a large car. Throwing it into gear, he peeled away so fast he left skid marks on the road.

The rear view mirror showed the black truck keeping pace easily, toying with him. By now Mike was genuinely afraid. He knew only one thing...he couldn't let this idiot find out where he lived.

So he drove at breakneck speed back into Malibu Beach proper. The truck kept pace, and when they crossed the city limits, it began to speed up and tap Mike's bumper. After the third time of this, Mike was starting to wonder if he was going to survive this encounter.

Suddenly Mike stopped the car cold. He withstood the grinding of the truck against the Monkeemobile's rear bumper ? "Sorry, sweetheart"...but he would not move the car.

The truck backed up and hit him again, hard enough to knock Mike forward against the wheel. But Mike would not move the car.

The truck did it again. But Mike would not move.

The truck zeroed in for a third hit...and what Mike had seen as he approached the unmarked crossing came to pass.

The 5.10 from LA smashed into the truck, careening it down the tracks. Mike groaned in relief as he realised his gamble had paid off. The locomotive hadn't reached its full speed and the truck was not destroyed, only badly dented in the back.

But the driver was unconscious and the police drug him to the hospital. Mike would find out two weeks later that the man was so insane he would have attacked anything that moved. Mike just happened to be in the way.

That was the last time in nearly two years that Mike went for a solo drive. The nightmares of black trucks would rear occasionally for the rest of his life.

END