CHAPTER ONE


Honk! Honk….
The blaring sound of the passing vehicle jerked him from his deep sleep. Piercing headlights nearly blinded his eyes but he put his elbow across his face to save them from the beaming lights.
“Damn!” he exclaimed, holding his elbow with his right hand which does nothing to ease the pain in his hand or the banging headache that was about to split his head. He finally opened his eyes gently to ease the migraine and allow his head to process whatever stupid position he had put himself in; this was another regrettable aftermath where his excessive drinking and partying landed him in the most unusual and awkward places at such a wrong time.
Carson loved to party and particularly enjoyed how he brought every gathering to top gear; from the drinks to the girls. He didn’t like to miss out on any part. To be known as the broad-shouldered, handsome, rich playboy was nothing short of exhilarating. It brought him fun and fame in his small circle.
The blinking clock on the dashboard which read 2:00 am awakened him to reality.
What the heck am I doing out here in the dark, he yelled at himself.
The night was pitch black and the moon seemed so distant in the sky, spilling just a little light into the night. There appeared to be no other vehicle on the long stretch of the road behind him and none coming in front as well. His black Sedan Toyota Camry was haphazardly parked by the side of the road, blending perfectly with the night. He must have skidded off the road to have his car almost tipping off at that edge.
He found his keys dangling from the ignition and wasted no further time starting the car, but the car was as dead as the night. After the third try, he realized just how much trouble a bumped car could bring him. This cannot be happening to me now! He shrieked.
He wasn't a brave guy and darkness scared him the most, although he would hardly admit this to anyone. He knew nothing about fixing vehicles. Now, he could only but wish that he had paid more attention to car engines when his father worked as a part-time mechanic. Perhaps, he would’ve learned a thing or two from him.
What am I going to do now? He brushed his palm across his face, squirming at the dreadful headache. He tried to focus his eyes on the dashboard, but being tipsy with alcohol made it harder to ascertain whether it was a flat battery, shortage of petrol, or some other mechanical fault he wouldn’t even be able to identify. He cursed himself for knowing nothing about cars except to turn the ignition and get the damn engine moving around.
Carson frisked his pant pockets for his phones but found nothing. Then he groped about the car and reached for one in the arm compartment and found the other one squashed under his right foot.
I need to call the mechanic, he muttered as he quickly unlocked his phone and scrolled through the contacts. He dialed a number a couple of times and after several unsuccessful attempts, a miserable sigh followed. He moved on to dial his buddy, praying soberly under his breath that he would come through for him.
Carson had a short list of friends; so, there would be limited alternatives if he got ‘unavailable’ for an answer.
A couple of the guys in his circle had thought they could hang out at the club briefly that night over a few bottles of beer to celebrate a new appointment. Carson was not known to miss such an opportunity to party. He went with them, ignoring the fact that it was mid-week and he had to be at his office the next day. They stayed at the club a lot longer and drank more than was necessary. Almost everyone was wasted.
He found the first number but groaned in frustration when he got a ‘not reachable’ response from the operator. He tried another number from the second phone and hoped to get connected. “Please, pick up,” he pleaded as the phone buzzed.
“Hello, Benson…” he yelped in excitement when he heard his friend mutter a distracted hello from the other end.
“Why are you calling me at this time?” Benson queried.
“Guy, I think I’m in some kind of trouble. Car problem and I am a long way from home.”
“What do you mean you are a long way from home? You left shortly before us and you live almost next to the club. In what way are you a long way from home?” Benson asked grudgingly.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you now. Would I?” Carson yelled and continued after an awkward silence from Benson. “Right now, I am stuck in my car. It’s too dark outside. I can’t reach the mechanic or Ken, so you are responsible for getting me help,” he pleaded.
“Well, you are responsible for the way you drink, Carson. Look, you are probably going to get killed with the way you drink. I warned you but you stubbornly insisted on driving yourself. Honestly, I am surprised you are not dead. How am I sure I am not discussing with a ghost?”
“Please mother, choose some other day to scold me. I need to get out of here right now. I am going to stop clubbing and drinking anyway,” Carson pleaded again. "Right now, I just need to get home. I think I must have driven in the wrong direction, nothing seems familiar here. And please, do not speak of ghosts in such a delicate situation as this. I am like the only one out here in a one-mile radius.”
Benson managed a weak sigh. “You keep saying you will stop and you don’t. You are probably having a battery issue; your car always has, but you are just as clueless as the car battery,” Benson chuckled mockingly. "Open the hood and check if the plugs are properly connected to the battery heads. If you are not sure, use a stone and gently tap the connected points. It should start the car,” he instructed.
“You mean I have to get out of the car?” Carson exclaimed looking around.
“You either remain seated in there or you get your butt out of the car. See you at the office tomorrow. I need to sleep” he snapped and hung up.
Carson stared blankly at the phone struggling to decide whether or not to examine the bonnet. His eyes hovered around the area, searching for a stone, but there was none. A careful look outside through his rear-view mirror and he spotted a set of headlights approaching his direction from behind with top speed. He jumped out of his car frantically, waving his hands for help. The approaching car slowed down a couple of yards before him. Carson could see it was a yellow taxi with the driver and a male passenger riding shotgun. He squinted to get a good view of the driver. It was a regular taxi man. As expected, he was hurrying to reach his destination and can’t risk spending time to slow down. What seemed strange was the passenger. Somehow, Carson saw him clearly. He wore a white tailored lace. It looked expensive because of the glint produced by the stones that adorned his dress. He didn’t exactly look like a big man either but he glowed brightly by the ray of light that fell on the side of his face. The driver looked at Carson briefly and sped off without stopping.
Carson was upset and could not understand why the driver would slow down and not consider helping him. He had to think of another way. With the faint glow from the street lamp, he looked around again for a sizable piece of rock for his battery. He didn’t seem to have run out of luck completely as he caught sight of one lying a few yards away. He popped the hood of his car as Benson had instructed. Why did the passenger have his face bent awkwardly and his tongue slightly rolled out? He asked himself. It also didn’t feel right seeing them speed off that way. The urge to get out of there immediately overtook him so he hastily shut the hood and settled into his car.
He tried once and the car gave a low growl and quenched weakly. Carson beat hard on the steering and collapsed into the headrest, shut his eyes prayerfully to quell his anger. He tried again and prayed for a start; the engine picked up just at the same time he heard a tap on his window.
Shock spread all over his face when he opened his eyes to see who the visitor was. It was the passenger in the taxi that drove off three minutes ago. There was no way this man walked back, he reasoned. And why did he have such a weird look?
The man knocked again but somehow his hand went slowly through the window towards the wheel. Carson screamed out his lungs, stepped on the accelerator, and sped off.


ORIGINAL STORY BY SARAH ELOHO
Email serahovermatter@gmail for complete story