Good afternoon folks, I hope we are all well. I have a wee treat in store for you today; a short story written by a good friend of mine, Harry Novak. I present to you;
An Unfortunate Lift
The old Great North Road; four hundred and ten miles of concrete and tarmac connecting London with Edinburgh since 1921; it passes through around eight English counties before it arrives at the Caledonian capital. These days, of course, it is no longer as heavily used as the nearby modern motorways, which have more than superceded its status and function. The road is still regularly used however and several sections have been upgraded to motorway status, allowing cars to roar down it at seventy miles per hour in a haze of polluting exhaust. It is one particular section of this old road that it is worth focusing your gaze on for the duration of this tale; this being the Darrington to Dishforth area that then leads on to Scotch Corner. Constructed near to the old mining town of Pontefract many an adventure seeking family have joined the old road on the way to a coastal holiday in Whitby or Scarborough. The road is relatively quiet though, this is normal for one o’clock in the afternoon, only the occasional car or speeding motorcycle glide across its cracked tarmac surface. The day is warm with a pleasant spring breeze which gently caressed the face; the grass on the side of the road is becoming a pleasing shade of green and trees nearby are beginning to reawaken. Along the side of the road, usually reserved for breakdowns and remonstrations from the local constabulary, there stands a figure. An extremely well-dressed figure it must be stressed; as our mind’s eye draws closer we can see that the figure is a tall and well built man with dark, stylishly cut hair. His skin is tanned in the smooth, easy way that owes more to genetics than bizarrely named creams and expensive tanning salons. From the cut of his dark suit and design of his glittering wrist watch, this man would not strike the casual observer as being someone who could not part with cash on a whim. The black leather of his hand made Italian shoes is marked with soil and flecked with grass, a fact that is causing him considerable annoyance. If one were to look closer at this lavishly dressed man you would notice that his clothing is somewhat dishevelled and grass stained. A leaf has somehow become wedged in the button hole of his black silk shirt and sweat pours down his chiselled, handsome face. He appears flustered and agitated and his normally exquisite face drips with sour smelling sweat that stains his immaculately ironed collar. He has lost his mobile phone and is entirely enraged by this; he would not be standing at the verge of the old Great North if he had been able to dial a taxi. He composes himself with an iron will and lifts his chin in a haughty manner; a deadly arrogance emanates from his very core, attractive to some, fatal to most. He formulates a plan using his powerful and lightning intellect that is chiefly responsible for his excessive wealth and prosperity. Holding out his clenched fist with only an extended thumb missing from the formation, he assumes his practised “trusting” expression and smiles in a manner that would corrupt the most pious of saints. It is scarcely less than five minutes before a car indicates left and slows to a halt beside him.
The obliging car was in fact a 1969 1.8 VVC track Mini with a semi space frame. Not that the expensively attired cybarite was aware of this nor indeed he care one jot, he was intent on finding a way off the road. The passenger door eased open with barely a creak and the driver beckoned the man inside with a languid hand movement. The man did not need a second invitation and eased his muscular form onto the faded seat with a grace that would have filled the most skilled dancer with admiration and envy. Automatically adjusting his suit he turned to meet his unknown chauffeur with a disarming smile and searching eyes. “Thanks for the lift mate it’s a big help, my name’s Mike.” The driver, who by this point had set out onto the road and was, driving at a steady seventy miles per hour, inclined his head towards Mike. He was a slim black man with a bald and slightly pitted skull; he appeared to have suffered from some form of skin infection that had permanently pock marked his skull but ignored his face. He was clean shaven and his face was entirely devoid of lines or wrinkles so that he appeared to be a fairly young man. It was only his bright searching eyes that practically glowed that gave an indication of a more advanced age. He was clad in a faded suit that looked as though it had once been worth a pretty penny but had since lost its dashing appearance. He spoke in a calm and measured voice that seemingly had no discernible accent, “You are very welcome Mike; the side of a busy road is no place to be even in decent weather. I’m heading up to Middlesbrough, would that be suitable for you?” Mike was momentarily lost for words; this was an unfamiliar experience for him as he was famous for his silver tongued dialogue. There was something about his driver that unnerved him more than a little yet he could not put his finger on why. Unease evoked by another was also something Mike was not used to; he himself was certainly not above using manipulation and intimidation to bend others to his will and sadly it was his preferred method of doing business. He grunted inaudibly and exerted his iron self control over his mind, telling himself to stop being so weak and stupid. “The Boro eh? That’d work well for me actually; I’ll pay you for your trouble of course mate, what’s your name by the way?” The driver grinned and revealed a set of perfect white teeth that gleamed brightly. “I won’t be needing any money my friend, and you can call me Jacob.” The sense of unease sat in the pit of Mike’s stomach but he was able to relax a little. “Fine then mate but only if you’re sure, nice to meet you anyhow.” Jacob just smiled in response and continued with the mechanics of driving a car on a long stretch of road; overtaking, indicating, braking. Mike's thoughts turned to the enraged man who had chased him from his home, he would almost certainly seek some form of redress; Mike almost regretted fucking his wife for the past two months. The feeling of regret did not last long nor did he spare a thought for the lives he had damaged and the bonds he had torn. He gave a sullen grunt and turned towards Jacob with faux smile back in post,” So what do you do Jacob? Are you local?” Jacob smiled enchantingly and flicked a glance towards Mike, “I suppose you could say that. I work with people on very much a one to one basis; I offer advice and assistance and aim to steer them towards logical conclusions.” Bloody do-gooder was Mike’s first thought but he decided to keep up the pretence of interest and affability. “So are you like a counsellor then? Do you run your own business? I’m in the financial game and I definitely know one or two characters that could use your help!” He gave a deep belly laugh that was both pleasing and entirely disingenuous at the same time. He had perfected this laugh over many years of pursuing and defeating weaker business opponents; it lulled people into a false sense of security and had enticed many a woman to his silken sheets. Very few could claim to have derived perpetuating satisfaction from this experience. Jacob had ceased smiling though his eyes continued to sparkle with mirth, “I’m quite sure you do Mike, more people have need of my services than you can possibly imagine. Now, as we will be spending some time together I have a proposal for you, a game if you will, to pass the time constructively. Are you interested?” Mike shifted uneasily for the second time in his experience as Jacob’s passenger. The feeling of something being out of place and somehow wrong had returned in a stomach gripping way and he recalled with a grim distaste the feelings he had experienced when his father had reached for the seventh glass of whisky. Any number of glasses of cherry aged gold was acceptable and had often made his father jovial and benevolent. Seven and onwards had meant trouble and pain that still made him want to vomit in fear. Immediately chastising himself for these ridiculous notions he once again exerted the rigid control that had made him a feared financial predator and authority figure. “Yeah go ahead mate; it’ll be a laugh for a couple of hours I suppose.” Jacob’s eyes narrowed to slits and a smile that revealed not one of his luminescent teeth stretched his lips. “Very good Mike; I can guarantee you’ll find it informative and useful. Are you ready to crack on, as they say?” Mike nodded and his taut, muscular form and features displayed not a symptom of the anxiety he was currently experiencing. As Jacob cleared his throat to begin whatever game he had planned, Mike realised that a need to urinate had presented itself. At present it was but a minor need and he dismissed it as such. He would regret such summary dismissals in the near future. The Great North Road stretched on….
*
Jacob had acquired a serene and almost trance like expression that appeared to flow throughout his entire form. He continued to focus on the faded grey tarmac of the road in front of him with a beatific smile. “Humour an old man by answering this question Mike; I can assure you it’s part of the game. Think long and hard for a moment, and then tell me what you believe to be your purpose in the world, your reason for existing if you like. Don’t worry, there’s no right or wrong answer.” Mike was momentarily confused and shifted in his small and worn seat. The feeling still stewed in his stomach as though he had a bowel upset and he felt the familiar burning of acid reflux. His usually powerful will was slipping away from him like the first few pebbles of a landslide. He had an idea that he would ask this strange man to drop him off at the next service station; he would fabricate some yarn about having an important business call he had to make. He had never struggled with fabrication and general truth bending to achieve his ends. He had to answer his driver’s question first however. “Well, I’ve never really given that much thought to be honest. I suppose if I was to give a reason as to why I was here it’d be to live my life in the way I see fit and have fun. Anything else is a bonus.” The words slipped from his mouth in a far more casual manner than he had thought possible given his current situation and mental state. Jacob did not answer immediately though it seemed to Mike that his grip tightened considerably on the steering wheel. Mike felt a surge of anger pass through him which passed as quickly as it had flared. His arrogance assumed full control of himself once more; he did not like being challenged or threatened in any way and the world was littered with the remains of those whom he had considered his enemy. He was confident he could splatter this stupid and nosy little man around his antique car should he try anything. The urge to urinate had grown stronger, though for now he was able to ignore it with only a modest effort of will and bladder control. He decided to do some questioning of his own and see how this little prick liked it, “How about Jacob old son, why do you think you’re here? To drive around in antique cars?” Jacob made a chuckling noise in the back of his throat and his face resumed its serene expression and he inclined his head towards Mike once again, “Oh, I’m not sure I know in my case. I once did but the events of my life have convinced me that there is neither reasoning nor explanation for my circumstances; but I’ve rambled enough so let’s get back to you.” Jacob adjusted himself in his chair slightly and drew in a long draught of the slightly stale car air. “I’m afraid I must admit to playing you false with my choice of question; at least with the meaning of that question.” Mike suppressed a scowl in a muscle straining exercise; he was beginning to dislike this man intensely. “Oh yeah, taking the piss a bit are you? I reckon that’s a bit iffy mate, ‘specially for someone you’re giving a lift to.” Jacob laughed in a rather musical fashion that contained more than a hint of mockery. “Please do not be angry Mike, it’s only a game after all and you certainly appear to be a man who views life as nothing more than a great game. Now, shall I reveal to you why you are in my old car in a dishevelled state?” Mike shifted his body weight and tensed his considerable muscle mass to a state of vindictive readiness. He didn’t know what game this bizarre fool was trying to play with him and he loathed the feeling that he was not fully in control of his present circumstances. He suspected that the man was a smack head of some sort; he was confident he could hurt him enough with one blow to gain control of the car and skid into the hard shoulder. First though, he would play along. “I can hardly wait can I?” He said as haughtily as he could manage and with more than a hint of derision. Jacob had stopped smiling entirely and an oily shadow appeared to pass across his face, masking his features. Only his eyes appear to blaze with an incandescent light, a light which now immolated Mike as Jacob turned towards him. “You are here Michael Blackshaw because you have been having intercourse with the wife of a man who has always considered you a close and most trusted friend. You have seduced her over a period of several months and she now believes that you are in love with her and would remove herself from her home to a life of decadent luxury in yours. Am I incorrect in any way?” Mike seethed and ground his teeth together; a habit he had had since he was a boy that his father had failed to beat out of him. He was now certain that this bastard was some sort of private investigator hired to discredit him. He had made many powerful business enemies over the years; many of these enemies ran “businesses” that were not necessarily on the right side of the law of the land. He had always been able to manipulate matters to his advantage and had so far escaped any serious reprisals for his tactics over the years. He had even implicated his own brother, that worthless, wretched little puke, in a hedge fund scam that, of course, had been entirely of his own devising. “Stop the car on verge you little bastard, or I’m going to knock your fucking teeth out, understand?” Jacob laughed in a manner so ghoulish that the pain in Mike’s bladder became a searing rusted spike which threatened to rip through his body; it was all he could do not to piss in his silk underwear. His blood boiled, fighting the freezing waves of fear that coursed through his body; he decided he had had more than enough of this little shit. He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles threatened to pop out through his flesh; he would break the bastard’s nose and yank the car to the side of the road and leg it out, he reckoned he could be away before any sort of authority arrived. Mike clenched his teeth and flicked his right fist out in a vicious jab intended to fold Jacob’s nose over like cartilage origami; a flicker of savage joy pulsed in his stomach and groin, savouring the opportunity to cause harm to another. Mike had long thrived on this drug-like sensation; as long as he felt it, he knew he could not be hurt by others and the dark memories of pain and abuse were pushed into the dank cellar of his mind. His vicious and sadistic ambition was not to be realised however; for the moment his speeding fist entered the orbit of Jacob’s head, a freezing, rending sensation paralysed his very being. He felt as if the marrow in his bones was freezing and snapping like icicles hanging from a frozen gutter; his muscles were rigid and his tendons cracked. His bladder, which by now was a searing cauldron filled the hottest pitch, voided itself in a hot foul smelling stream. Mike tried to speak but his dystonic vocal chords could not even manage a strangled and truncated yelp, the pain had driven him to the borderlands of raving insanity in the space of mere seconds. A moment before he truly believed that he might implode in his own muscles and bodily fluids the feeling stopped as suddenly as it had been inflicted. Mike sagged in his belt and wept silently; his father had extra special punishments for loud sobbing, often involving a trip to a dark place where all he could smell was mould and his father’s whisky stinking breath. His urine, already starting to dry, stung his nostrils with a shameful odour that evoked humiliation and misery. Jacob cleared his throat and focused on the road ahead, his face now entirely devoid of expression or emotion. “Now Mike, you needed to experience that so that you can be under no mistaken impressions about the deadly seriousness of your situation. Calm yourself as much as you are able and listen to what I’m about to outline to you. After that, I’m going to give you a choice; the one you make will transform your life so completely it will be unrecognisable as the existence you played out before. Do you understand?” Mike nodded miserably, a state of exhausting had shackled him to seat and he was entirely unable to speak, much less strike again. Jacob nodded curtly, “Good, now listen carefully, it won’t get repeated.”
“To put it quite bluntly Mike; you are an extremely callous, egotistical and manipulative man. You have spent much of your life using others for your own selfish profit and you have humiliated and devastated any and all who have opposed you.” Mike, without really acknowledging he was doing it, gave a barely perceptible nod that dislodged some of the tears that had welled in the corner of his eyes like fat oil drops. The tears landed in his lap to blend with the increasingly stale urine that had formed a swampy patch on his trousers, the odour of which continued to fill him with a burning shame. He was broken and utterly defeated and unlike most wounded beasts, had neither the stomach nor will to fight back. Jacob appeared eerily placid as he continued his savage indictment of Mike’s character; made all the more savage by each word’s utter veracity. “You have seduced and broken women; all semblance of themselves, their thoughts, opinions, beliefs, you subjugated all of them to you. Many of the women you have dominated throughout your wretched existence have never fully recovered and live empty, shell-like lives. You even betrayed your own brother with scarcely a thought.” Mike continued to sob silently, each of Jacob’s words like a rusty barb that tore at the ragged shadow which had so long masqueraded as a soul. He could not refute any of the charges Jacob was laying against him; he had never appeared before a judge so immovable and powerful and who appeared to have the ability to peer into his mind. Without any warning he vomited fiercely into his footwell; steaming, foul smelling chunks of everything he had eaten spattered the old rubber mate and his handsomely made leather shoes. He was no longer able to sob though his breath continued to jerk from his chest in hitching gasps. Jacob gave no reaction nor passed comment on Mike’s violent stomach evacuation; his features remained a picture of serene calm. His words, though measured and spoken in an even pitch, nevertheless seared Mike’s psyche like droplets of molten lead. “You are an exceptionally despicable person Mike, but as yet no earthly authority has held you to account. Oh you’ve appeared in various courts charged with various offences, but no judge or jury has yet found you guilty. As yet there has not been either of these authorities that you could not buy or intimidate. You are not entirely to blame for your character however; much of you was formed in the darkness that emanated from your father’s evil.” The mere mention of his father brought the tears back to Mike’s eyes where they fell in burning hot trails. Every blow, every denigrating word, every sweat drenched grasp replayed in front of his eyes, ending with his father’s brutal death. He had finally vented his putrid bile on the wrong person in a local pub; the man, a well known local gangster, had savagely beaten his father around the head with a wine bottle and left him bleeding in a syringe littered alley around the back. An alley Mike had been walking home down, for it was scarcely two hundred yards from their crumbling home. His sobs grew louder until he thought his wails must split his skull apart and allow his tortured brain to spill out. Jacob finally turned to face him; the light outside the car had taken a deep purple hue and they no longer appeared to be travelling on any man made road. Mike dimly realised that he had not seen another car for around twenty minutes. The fire in Jacob’s eyes grew brighter. “I’m going to give you a choice Mike; a choice to come out of this reborn, anew, or to be locked into an existence so wretched it’ll make your soul bleed. An existence that has only one exit which may or may not present itself over the course of a lifetime.” Mike managed to lift his head that now appeared to weigh roughly the same as a marble globe. Blinking away tears he looked Jacob into his smouldering eyes, “What do I have to do? Can you help me?” Jacob laughed bitterly and the glowing coals that had replaced his flesh eyes appeared to dim momentarily. “Help? If only it were that easy Mike. I can only offer you a choice; a choice to give up your life of corruption, venality and excess and use whatever is left of your existence to do meaningful harm. This choice however doesn’t come easily; you must take a long and searching look inside yourself and decide whether or not you can truly leave that life behind, for I’ll not deny it offers its own pleasures. Choose now Mike, time is running out.” The air had stopped rushing outside the car and the purplish light cast bizarre and terrifying shadows all around. Mike was sure he could see eyes in the gloom; eyes that stared at him with a hungry and desperate look. To his credit, perhaps the only positive action that could ever be ascribed to Mike, he did as Jacob asked. He searched throughout his souls and his dark, fractured memories, the pleasure gained from the humiliation of others, his twisted sexual conquests. He asked himself if he could truly become the virtuous beacon of light that Jacob seem to suggest was necessary to save his soul. After around a minute of introspection, he reached a decision. “I reckon I can give you that answer Jacob.” He then voiced his decision to his chief prosecutor. Jacob nodded slowly, the placid look returning though his eyes burned no less brightly. “I thought so, I understand completely, for I made that exact decision forty years ago.” Mike closed his eyes and exhaled; Jacob returned his attention to the steering wheel and drove on. It wasn’t long before the all pervading light swallowed them whole.
Some time later, the exact length is immaterial; a woman stumbled out onto the old Great North Road. She was expensively dressed and irresistibly beautiful; the kind of beauty that set pulses racing and men to check their breath. She had however just ruined several lives and had been planning to celebrate in style until one particularly aggrieved individual had decided to attack her with an ashtray. She had barely escaped with her face intact but had sworn to ensure the bitch went to the roughest prison in Britain. She decided to hitch a lift somewhere, reasoning that she was far more dangerous than any prospective creep in a car. A short while later, 1.8 VVC track Mini slowed to a halt a yard in front of her feet and the driver beckoned to her. She opened the door and slid in; she made this simple movement appear as sensuous as an erotic dance and she made sure the driver saw a long portion of her shapely thigh. Entice, seduce, hypnotise and discard; these tactics had always worked well for her. The driver, a muscular dark haired man in an expensive suit that seemed jarringly out of place in this vintage car, flashed a smile that, for all her dominance and self-assurance, made her momentarily weak at the knees. “Hi there love, where are you headed?” She smiled seductively, thinking that perhaps she might get more out of this ride than she had originally intended. “Anywhere is fine with me, the next town will do, I just need to get away for a bit.” The man smiled that fatally charming smile again and turned back to the road. “The next town it is then, I’m sure we can pass the time somehow along the way.”
END
