A maniac tried to kill me on the interstate

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A maniac tried to kill me on the interstate.

I admit, that’s a slight exaggeration. A maniac tried to scare the hell out of me on the interstate – and succeeded. That’s a more accurate reflection of events.

I woke up at 3:30 in the morning in Jacksonville. My back was killing me from all the sitting around I had done after my radical prostatectomy. I was planning to leave for home that morning anyway, so the thought occurred to me that I left then I could avoid the heat and traffic of the day.

So that’s what I did – I finished packing the car, checked out of the hotel and hit the road.

I had to find the Jacksonville outer belt – I-295. That would take me to I-10 west. From there it would be a straight shot back to Okaloosa County.

I was on a road called the 202, looking for the exit to I-295. Traffic was almost non-existent. The speed limit was 65. I was in the center of three or four lanes, doing about 60. I thought it would be OK to drive a little slower, seeing as how there was no significant traffic, so I could look for my exit.

Within a couple of minutes, the tire pressure warning light clicked on. Great, I thought. Just great. It had done that in Fort Walton Beach the week before I left for Jacksonville. I checked the tires and found no nails, and I checked the pressure in all four tires. None were low. I had just put four new Michelin Defenders on the car and I know that sometimes, when you change out tires, it can cause the pressure sensors to malfunction. Just to be safe I took the car back to the dealer that installed the new tires and had them check everything. They didn’t find anything wrong so I assumed it was a sensor malfunction.

Then, I glanced in my rear-view mirror.

Headlights were hurtling toward me at a high rate of speed. I mashed down on the gas pedal to try to cushion the blow. At the last second the other driver slammed on his brakes. By the grace of God he didn’t rear-end me. He pulled up next to me, paused a moment, then raced ahead of me. He swerved into my lane.

Then he slammed on his brakes.

All I could think was: Hit the brakes. I did – hard.

The car started skidding. It started to turn sideways, but I corrected.

He let off his brakes and accelerated, careening across three lanes to take an exit.

Inside the car, with nobody other than myself to hear me, I shouted. “Goddamn motherfucker! You goddamn motherfucker!”

My heart was pounding wildly. I heard a dull ringing in my ears. My pits were soaked with sweat. Every loose thing in the car was now forward of its previous location, and lying in a chaotic jumble.

I couldn’t believe what had just happened. The guy must’ve been out of his mind, or drunk. I realized I was frightened – badly. I was completely helpless. I had an abdomen full of stitches and I was wearing a catheter. What would I have done if we’d wrecked?

I was running out of road. Obviously, I had missed my turn. I found a place to turn around and went back in the opposite direction. Eventually I did find I-295, and then I-10 west.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about that nut in the car, that drunk, that asshole. He must’ve been out of his mind, I told myself. Totally irrational. A death wish. It reminded me of every horror movie I’d ever seen, where a person on a road trip is suddenly targeted by a lunatic, totally at random.

The sun came up as I drove home. I stopped at every interstate rest stop along the way. I took my time.

Later that morning, as I pulled into my driveway, I uttered a prayer of thanks.

Home never looked so good.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .