JACOB KLOP

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“And it’s another scorcher out there folks. Break out the suntan lotion and get your butts to the beach, but if you’re one of the sad sack nine to fivers trapped in your car listening to me, Crank up the A/C or should I say AC DC.”

 

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap pumped through the speakers of Nathan’s 2012 Honda Civic.  Nice. He turned up the volume then slid his hand over to the fan dial and increased the air conditioning. Rockin’ Rudy wasn’t kidding. It was fucking hot today. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow as he inched through the rush hour traffic. Goddamn it. Couldn’t he get home at a reasonable hour just one day this week? He slapped the steering wheel in frustration. Suddenly, a white BMW cut in front of him. Jesus Christ. He slammed on the brakes and leaned on his horn. A solitary middle finger rose up, and then the car was gone, cutting off more drivers as it zipped through the traffic. Nathan shook his head. What a fucking day. First he’d lost his biggest customer and been reamed out by his boss, and now he couldn’t even get home without running into some dipshit in a BMW.

 

Hot Stuff by Donna Summer started up on the radio. Come on. No way. What the hell Rockin’ Rudy? You’re playing disco now. This cannot be happening. He hit the scan button and turned the volume down. Commercials…news…garbled noise…rap. Really. Can’t there please be a half decent rock song somewhere on this damn thing. Maybe he’d have to get satellite radio after all. He’d held off because he was a cheap bugger, but the car ride home was his one sanctuary. He needed some half decent tunes or he’d go nuts.

 

Tom Sawyer by Rush blasted forth. Thank God. About time. The station was wickedly clear, and louder than anything else on the dial. Perfect. He glanced at the digital display, 29.9. Weird. His radio must have something wrong. There were no stations that went that low. He tapped the plastic, but the 29.9 remained. Nathan shrugged. Well, if the music was good it could be one thousand and twenty nine for all he cared.

 

He reached his off ramp and signaled to exit. A car cut across the solid line behind him and sped past on his right. Nathan swerved away, barely avoiding a collision. He gritted his teeth and shook his head resignedly. It just wasn’t his day.

 

“Good evening special listeners. I’m your host, Dr. Elam Maché.” His voice was strangely soothing. Nothing like any rock DJ Nathan had heard before.

 

“Rough day at the office? Boss got you down in the dumps? No need to worry. NAS T 29.9 has the medicine you need.” A pounding rhythmic drum beat pumped through the speakers.

 

Nathan grinned when he recognized the opening to Hot for Teacher by Van Halen. Now we’re talking. At least the day wasn’t a total loss. He’d discovered an awesome new radio station. He drummed his hands against the steering wheel as he sped down the road.

 

His shoulders relaxed and the tension in his neck eased as he neared his home. It was funny how the familiar streets of his neighborhood gave him a feeling of contentment. He turned right onto his street. It was an old neighborhood, lined with towering maple trees and cracked grayish white sidewalks. A black squirrel ran into the street. It paused, fluffy tail quivering as it picked up something from the gritty pavement. Maybe a seed or acorn. Nathan steered right to avoid the animal.

 

“Ah, such a glorious day today,” the melodious voice of Dr. Maché flowed into the vehicle. “On a day like this, nothing feels better than to have the power of an automobile in our hands and the will to take command of our environment. For those faithful listeners remember that you are in control. Don’t let anything delay your personal gratification.”

 

The speaker stuttered and popped and a sharp piercing screech emitted forth, “Hit it!”

 

Without hesitation, Nathan swerved left. He felt a slight bump as his front tire hit the squirrel. A surge of pleasure flooded through his body and he shuddered at the sweet sensation. What the hell. He glanced in his rear mirror and saw the broken, bloody body of the chipmunk on the street. Why would he do that? What was wrong with him?

 

“For all you questioning listeners out there, don’t forget that Dr. Elam Maché is here to help, and I can only help you if you’re ready to rock and roll with me and Ozzy Osbourne.”

 

“Crazy Train” started up as Nathan pulled into the driveway. Well that’s certainly the right song for this fucking day. He shut the ignition off, picked up his briefcase and left the car. As the door slammed shut, he felt a twinge of loss. It would be nice to stay in the car a little longer. Maybe explore the neighborhood for a bit. The surge of pleasure lingered in his memory. Was there a way to get keep that sensation alive? He shook his head, irritated with himself. So, what was his plan now? Drive around the streets and hit a bunch of squirrels. God, he was stupid. He resisted the foolish temptation and strode up the walkway.

 

He eyed his house critically. It needed painting and the shingles were tattered. It seemed like every time he made one repair, three more popped up. He just couldn’t get a break. Nathan unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The wood was warping he realized as he squeezed the door closed. Just another thing to add to the list.

 

“Hi Jenny, I’m home” Nathan called out.

 

Jenny poked her head from the kitchen, “Hey Nathan. How was your day?”

 

He sighed. “Oh, you know, Ron was a dick after I lost the Kershin account. The traffic was insane. Oh yeah, and I hit a squirrel.”

 

“Oh no! Poor squirrel.” Jenny teased.

 

Nathan smiled. She always knew how to make him laugh. “Well, it’s nice to see you picked up on the important news of my day. How about you? Anything interesting going on?”

 

“Well, Jenny threw up on Ethan and Emily punched Ryan because he gave her a funny look and…”

 

“Okay, I get it,” Nathan interrupted, “The stress of a kindergarten teacher is way beyond anything I have to deal with.”

 

“Well, there was one good thing,” Jenny smiled.

 

“What was that?”

 

“One of the parents gave me this adorable penguin ornament.” She held up a cloth penguin with red circles of glass for eyes and a small, crooked bowtie. Its head was too big for the body, and giant feet jutted out to the sides as if it was wearing clown shoes.

 

“That is one weird looking penguin.”

 

“It’s not weird, it’s cute,” Jenny protested.

 

Nathan shrugged. There was no point in arguing. Jenny was nuts for penguins. She must have at least four hundred of them scattered around the house.

 

“Where are the kids?” He asked.

 

Jenny gave him a sideways look. “I’ll give you one guess.”

 

“Owen’s playing Fortnite and Violet’s on Instagram, or Twitter, or whatever the hell she does on her phone.”

 

“Bingo. Got it on the first try.”

 

“I keep thinking one of these days something’s got to change.”

 

Jenny laughed. “Yeah, well I’m not betting on it.”

 

A urge to return to the Civic surged through Nathan. He shifted his feet and glanced at the front door. “How about pizza tonight?”

 

“Sure, I’ll call for delivery.”

 

“No. I’ll pick it up.” Nathan snapped and moved to leave. “Same order as usual?”

 

“Uh, okay. Don’t you want me to call ahead?”

 

“No, I’ll wait there,” he yanked open the door and raced to the car. He felt like a fool, but couldn’t control his desire to return to the soothing voice of Dr. Maché.

 

He slid into the front seat, started the ignition and sighed with relief. The red 29.9 flashed on the radio. “…and I’m your host Dr. Elam Maché signing off, but don’t forget dear listener. If you want to feel good, take control of your life. You are the driver. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Good night and sweet dreams.”

 

The station went dead. No music. No commercials. Just crackling static. Fuck. Nathan slapped the steering wheel in frustration. How could he get control of his life without the guidance of Dr. Maché? He felt the beginnings of a monster headache forming. Nathan shook his head and sighed. Maybe it was for the best. He’d never felt this kind of attachment to anything in his life. Was it possible to be addicted to a radio station? God, he was so stupid. Depressed, he drove off to get the pizza.

 

He returned balancing three medium pizzas against his hip with one hand and carrying a bag of pop in the other. He felt better. More like himself. Pop and pizza, now that was true medicine. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, he would switch radio stations and get Dr. Maché out of his head.

 

He held the plastic bag in his teeth and unlocked the front door. He pushed the warped door open with his shoulder and swung into the house. The corner of the pizza box clipped a ceramic penguin that was placed atop a side table just inside the entrance. It teetered for a moment then toppled. Oh crap. The penguin seemed to fall in slow motion. It hit the porcelain tiles with a crash and split into three large pieces. A bunch of tiny fragments scattered across the floor. Nathan’s back arched with orgasmic pleasure even more intense than what he had experienced earlier that day. It started in the pit of his stomach and swept outward toward his limbs. He shuddered at the intensity and barely maintained his hold on the pizza boxes.

 

“Nathan, what did you do?” Jenny came running down the stairs. “That was my favorite penguin.”

 

“Was it?” He responded, dazed.

 

“Damn it Nathan. Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?” She hurried into the kitchen and returned with a broom and dustbin. “Just go get the dishes ready while I clean this up.”

 

“What does it matter anyways? You’ve got like a thousand of those damn things,” Nathan muttered as he turned away. He felt a slight surge of well-being after the comment and smiled.

 

“I like them. I don’t make fun of your stupid CD collection do I. You know that people nowadays play music on their phones.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to knock the damn penguin over okay.”

 

“You don’t sound very sorry.”

 

He wasn’t. Nathan marched to the kitchen without answering and began taking out the dishes, clashing them together. He was angry with Jenny, but didn’t know why. Maybe it wasn’t her he was angry with. It was those stupid penguins. He glared at a line of six small crystal penguins lining the inside of a glass cabinet. He wanted to smash them on the granite counter. That would probably feel amazing. No, not probably. It definitely would feel amazing. He knew it without a doubt, but withstood the temptation.

 

He slammed the plates and glasses down on the table and glared at the crystal penguins every time he passed by.

 

“Dinner’s here!” Nathan called when he was done.

 

There was no response from the kids.

 

Jenny walked past him and dumped pieces of ceramic into the plastic lined waste bin.

 

“I said dinner’s here!” He shouted even louder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jenny sat down, wincing at his tone. “They can eat it cold later.”

 

“Don’t you think we should have a meal together like a proper family?” He snapped.

 

She shrugged and pulled open the box with anchovies. “I think you need to relax.”

 

Nathan made a sour face. Why the hell did she always want anchovies? But then she’d eat one or two slices and start raiding his Hawaiian pizza. She knew no one else would touch her fucking anchovy pizza because it was so disgusting.

 

“I’m going to get them.” He stormed away to the family room.

 

As usual, Owen was there. Headphones snapped firmly in place as he stared intently at the television screen. “I’m going left,” he spoke into the microphone. His onscreen character veered away.

 

Jesus. Didn’t kids have homework anymore? Nathan waved his hand in front of Owen and pointed toward the kitchen.

 

Owen nodded and made a shooing motion, as if Nathan were an irritating fly.

 

No. Not today mister. It was time he took control of this house. He marched to the outlet and pulled the plug for the game console.

 

“What! Come on Dad, we were winning.”

 

“Tough luck. Next time, maybe you’ll listen to me. Go sit down for dinner.” He strode from the room. He felt good. Powerful. Dr. Maché was right. This was what he needed. To take control of his life.

 

He mounted the stairs in twos and approached Violet’s closed door. He heard laughter from within. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought someone else was there with her. Without pausing he pushed the door open. She was lying on her bed, twirling her hair and scrolling down her phone with a free hand.

 

“Jeez dad, ever heard of knocking.”

 

“Maybe if you answered me when I called for dinner.”

 

“I did,” she rose to her feet and pocketed her phone.

 

Liar. “Gimme the phone.” He wasn’t going to be disrespected by this brat.

 

“What! No! I didn’t do anything.”

 

He held out his hand. “I’ll smash it into pieces, unless you give it to me right now.”

 

“Fine,” she handed it over. “But I need it back after dinner. I’ve got homework questions I have to ask my friends.”

 

Another lie. Nathan was tempted to hurl the phone against the wall. He sensed it would feel wonderful, but resisted the urge. “So you wouldn’t care, if I watched you text your friends the questions.”

 

“What is wrong with you?” she stomped down the stairs.

 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he muttered. Little liar.

 

He returned to the table, pleased with himself. It was nice to have a little order for once.

 

Jenny regarded him warily as he sat down. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, I’m feeling better all the time,” he smiled as he regarded the unhappy faces around the table.

 

 

​

Nathan whistled and swung his briefcase back and forth as he strolled to his car the next day. He’d slept better that night than in years and woke feeling like he was a child again without a care in the world. He smiled. It was going to be a good day.

 

The birds chirped happily in the morning air and flitted in and out of the trees. He smiled and remembered the squirrel. Yes, little birds, you better stay up in the trees.

 

He started the ignition. “…morning faithful listeners, it’s your favorite host Dr. Elam Maché…”

 

Cool. How much did this guy work? Maybe it was a new station and he was the only deejay they could afford. Just last night Nathan had said he would switch radio stations this morning, but the notion seemed ridiculous now. Why would he change something that had guided him to one of the best nights of his life?

 

“…I hope you’re all well rested and prepared to listen to the doctor, because I’m ready to set you on your true path. Stay strong good listeners. After all. It’s a jungle out there.” His hypnotic voice lulled Nathan into a trancelike state. It took a moment for him to register Dr. Maché had stopped talking and he was still in the driveway as Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses pounded through the vehicle. Yes, it was going to be a good day.

 

 

 

He arrived to work in record time. There was almost no traffic and the drive downtown had flown by. Fridays were the best. He parked beside Ron’s black Mercedes. It gleamed in the morning sun.

 

He turned off the ignition, but the radio kept playing. Was that even possible? He shrugged. Who knows? There were stories of people picking up radio stations through their fillings. Maybe it would turn off in a little while. He slammed the door shut and the volume increased.

 

“And remember listeners, sometimes a little destruction can lead you to greater well-being.” The radio flickered to static and the sharp piercing voice screeched, “Key it!”

 

Nathan didn’t hesitate. He trusted Dr. Maché. He stuck the sturdy ignition key between his fingers and strode alongside the shiny Mercedes, grinding the key along the side of the black door. The sweet sensation coursed through his body as the key screeched against the metal.

 

He wondered what it would feel like if he pushed the key against Ron’s face. The shuddering pleasure increased in intensity. Yes, next time that’s exactly what he would do. If the bastard even dared say one word to him about the lost account he’d jam this fucking key right into his eye. Nathan dropped to one knee. The image of Ron with a key sticking in one of his eyeballs as blood ran down his cheek brought a surge of desire that wobbled his legs.

 

After a moment, he pulled himself up using the side mirror of the Mercedes and turned toward the office. He paused. It was only open for a half day today. The place would be nearly empty. He glanced at his car. The radio was quiet now, but just imagining Dr. Maché’s smooth voice tempted him. It would be nice to spend a day driving around the downtown streets. Just hanging out. Doing whatever the fuck he wanted. When was the last time he’d spent a day like that? Just him and NAS T 29.9.

 

It was an easy decision. He’d call in sick later…or maybe not. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Couldn’t he? He returned to the Civic and eased back into the seat. It felt more comfortable than he remembered. He looked at the blank digital screen. What do you say Dr. Maché? Where should we go now?

 

“Ah Nathan, just the question all my listeners end up asking. Why don’t we just drift around the streets and see what pleasures await.”

 

It sounded good to Nathan. He started the car and squealed out of the parking lot. He didn’t pay attention where he was driving. He let his feelings guide him, and sometimes the soothing voice of Dr. Maché’s emerged and spoke simply “right” or “left”. Nathan always followed the directions and each time was granted with brief splashes of pleasure.

 

Eventually he slowed down and registered the surroundings. He had left the tall downtown skyscrapers far behind. This was a seedy neighborhood. A collection of dirty brown low rise apartments crowded close to the pothole filled street. The people outside didn’t seem to be going anywhere. They hung out in darkened alleys and on the front steps of the houses, sometimes talking as they huddled in small groups, but more often they stood alone with their heads hung low.

 

“The lowest of the low,” Dr. Maché intoned, but his voice was no longer melodious. It was harsh and guttural. “There is no cure for such as these. There is only a release from their pain.”

 

Nathan nodded in understanding. He could help them.

 

“Left, now” The voice instructed.

 

He yanked the wheel. The tires squealed as he slammed the brakes and turned down a narrow alley. Two black cats at the entrance glanced up at the approaching Civic.

 

“Accelerate!”

 

Nathan slammed on the gas. One cat bumped against the undercarriage of the car and the other was clipped by the right tire. He sighed with happiness. The damn city had too many cats anyways.

 

“It’s not just cats, the city has too much of,” Dr. Maché seemed to be reading his thoughts.

 

No, it definitely wasn’t just cats. Nathan thought about the destitute people he’d driven past. What use did they have for those drifters and beggars clogging up the sidewalks? But what could he do? Every action had a reaction and there were consequences in this fucked up world.

 

“Do not worry my good friend. I shall be your guide.”

 

Nathan sighed with happiness and gave himself over to the voice.

 

He wasn’t sure exactly what happened after his surrender. He sensed it was an evening spent among the alleys and gutters of the poorest parts of the city. Sometimes he was in the car, and others not. He recalled being immersed in a constant state of orgasmic pleasure as he fulfilled every pulsing urge that entered his thoughts. It was just him and the soothing presence of Dr. Elam Maché, and he savored every moment they were together.

 

​

 

His thoughts cleared as he pulled into his driveway. It was late. He glanced at the digital clock. 3:00 AM. The radio sputtered static. What the hell had happened? Where had the day gone? His hands were sore and appeared to be covered in blood. His head throbbed. It was like a headache, but a thousand times worse than any headache he’d ever felt.

 

He exited the car and slammed the door shut. He winced from the pain in his hands and head. The glare of the streetlights shone down onto the Civic. Dents decorated the front of the car. One of them was particularly bad. The left headlight was crushed in and the bumper hung like a droopy mustache against the ground. Had he been in an accident? An image of him clipping a woman pushing a shopping cart flashed into his mind, and the headache eased momentarily.

 

He stumbled to his house. Something wasn’t right. Why was he in so much pain?

 

The front door flung open as he reached for the knob.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” Jenny stood at the threshold with her arms crossed.

 

Nathan shook his head and it rattled with pain. “I don’t know.”

“You look drunk. Did you drive home drunk?”

 

“I don’t know. I think I just need to rest.” He staggered up the steps.

 

“What the heck is wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

 

“I’m fine,” he pushed past her roughly. It felt nice shoving her. He wondered what it would feel like to hit her. Probably even better. Maybe it would even make his headache go away. He clenched his fist, but then released it. No. Not Jenny.

 

She does have all those annoying penguins. A dark voice crept into his mind. He thrust it aside. “I’m tired. I need to go to bed.”

 

Jenny shook her head. “Fine. Don’t forget we’re going up north to my parent’s cottage tomorrow. We’ve been talking about it all week. I’m sleeping on the couch, jackass.” She stormed away.

 

Crap. The damn cottage. He had forgotten. He staggered up the stairs and toppled into bed without undressing. His head pounded mercilessly. He tried to fall asleep, but it was impossible. Was there any way to relieve this agony? He cracked his eyes open. It was dark, but he could still make out something white on the night table beside him. Another one of those fucking penguins. A stuffed one that Jenny slept with sometimes, like she was still in kindergarten. He snatched it and pulled at the plastic eye until it tore free. His headache eased, and a small surge of pleasure caressed his body.

 

That’s better. He took the penguin into the bed and plucked at the material with his fingers. Pulling and tearing at the cloth. Trying to dig into it with his nails. It was his only respite from the pain and he desperately needed any kind of relief. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep clutching the mangled remains of the penguin in his arms.

 

 

​

“Nathan! What the hell?” Jenny screeched.

 

“What.” He cracked open his crusted eyes. Daylight streamed into the bedroom through thin slats in the blinds. Pieces of stuffing littered the bed and he clutched a ragged piece of black and white cloth in one hand. “Oh, sorry. I must have had a nightmare.”

 

“What! You tore apart a stuffed animal during a nightmare. That’s ridiculous.”

 

He shrugged. “I can’t explain it.” It was true. Yesterday was like some kind of freakish dream, but he felt better today. He just needed a cup of coffee. Maybe go for a drive. He smiled.

 

He sat up in bed, “Maybe I’ll go out for a bit.”

 

Jenny looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What are you talking about? I just told you last night. We’re going to my parent’s cottage today.” She paused, and eyed him critically. “You need to take a shower and get changed. You stink. It also looks like you’ve got blood on your hands.” She frowned. “Jesus Nathan, were you fighting in some bar?”

 

He raised a hand to his head. It was starting to ache again. “No, I mean, I don’t know. Just give me a moment and I’ll get ready.” He stumbled to the shower. Last night was a blur. An image of him punching a crippled man begging for change rose up. He was momentarily horrified, but at the same time felt a surge of satisfaction. Jenny would never understand. He needed a night like last night. He was taking control of his life.

 

The water sluiced down his body, rinsing the dirt and blood away. It might be nice going for a long drive today. Maybe Jenny and the kids would enjoy NAS T 29.9 as much as he did.

 

He frowned. Unfortunately, visiting Jenny’s parents wouldn’t be much fun. They always asked if he was the president of the company yet and then laughed like they were telling the most hilarious joke in the world. Fucking idiots. It would be nice if he could pick them apart like they were stuffed penguins. He smiled at the image.

 

After the shower, he dressed quickly and hurried downstairs. The kids and Jenny were already at the table eating breakfast.

 

Jenny glared at him. “What did you hit last night? The Civic is all smashed up.”

 

“I think it was a deer. It jumped in front of the car, then took off.”

 

“You’re a regular rock star lately aren’t you?” Jenny shot sarcastically.

 

“Yeah, way to go dad,” Owen laughed.

 

Nathan gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. They didn’t understand anything. He was taking control of his life. He strode to the front door. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

 

“Well, if you’re talking about the Civic, you’ll be waiting a long time. That thing needs to go to the shop.”

 

“Fine. I’ll be in the Focus.”

 

“Well, we’re not rushing our breakfast for you.”

 

Nathan ignored her. He was already hurrying outside to the car. What if it didn’t receive NAS T 29.9? He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t listen to the station for the day. His head boomed in painful agreement. He flung open the door and started the car.

 

“And it’s going to be another hot one today. We’re going to have highs of…”

 

Nathan snatched at the dial and twisted it to the left. Come on 29.9. You’ve got to be here. The numbers flickered lower, 88.1, 87.9, 29.9. Thank you. He wanted to thank god, but it felt weird.

 

“Good morning faithful listeners. I think it’s going to be a special day today so why don’t you all ease your seats back and relax to one of Van Halen’s greatest hits, “Panama”.

 

Nathan complied and smiled as he reclined in the chair. His headache eased. The sun was warm on his face and he drifted off to the soothing presence of NAS T 29.9.

 

The trunk creaked open and Nathan heard the sound of luggage being tossed inside. He opened his eyes and yawned.

 

“Thanks for the assist, sweetie,” Jenny plopped into the seat beside him and the kids piled into the backseat.

 

“Oh, sorry, I fell asleep.” He grinned and looked at her. “What do you think of the new radio station I discovered?”

 

“Um, yeah, that’s funny. Good one Nathan.” She shook her head as if hearing a bad joke.

 

“Dad, it’s nothing but static.” Violet called from the backseat.

 

“Nice try, Violet.” Nathan smiled happily and reversed out of the driveway.

 

Violet rolled her eyes, leaned back, and pulled on her headphones.

 

“Are you okay, Nathan?” Jenny asked, concerned.

 

“Fantastic.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “This is one of my favorite songs.”

 

“The joke’s getting old dad,” Owen declared and took out his phone.

 

Nathan glanced in the rear mirror. As usual. Both kids on their fucking devices. He shifted his eyes sideways toward Jenny. She looked annoyed. Probably still upset about her stupid penguins.

 

Nathan merged onto the highway. At least he still had NAS T 29.9. No one could take that away.

 

“How right you are loyal listener,” Dr. Maché’s smooth voice invaded his mind. “But I’m sad to say you’re surrounded by negativity. How can you be in control when those around want to undermine you.”

 

Nathan frowned and glanced at his unaware family. Could they even hear the wisdom of NAS T 29.9?

 

“Perhaps they would like it if you drove faster.”

 

Nathan remembered his kids when they were in kindergarten. They used to shout encouragement at him, telling him to go faster all the time. Yes, they would like that. He pushed down on the accelerator. He felt a surge of pleasure. That felt nice, like he was floating on a cloud.

 

He heard muted shouting. Someone was tapping him frantically on the shoulder, but it was like he was underwater. Everything sounded muffled and he barely felt a thing.

 

“The left lane is clear. Why don’t you drive in that one?”

 

Nathan pushed on the accelerator and shifted over one lane.

 

“Keep going. There’s still plenty of room to the left.”

 

Nathan continued to drift over. This was nice. Everything was so peaceful. He tuned out the shouts and voices into the background.

 

“Highway to Hell” by ACDC stuttered through the speakers. Nathan smiled. He was finally in control of his life.

 

​

 

Officer Denise Carter and her partner picked through the wreckage.

 

“Goddamn driver just drifted into the oncoming traffic,” Denise commented.

 

“Maybe he had a heart attack or something.”

 

Denise grunted. She hoped so. Anyone that would do this on purpose was deranged beyond belief. His wife and kids were dead along with another family. She shook her head. What a fucking day. She thought she would get used to scenes like this, but they still rattled her. The sound of music emerged from the mangled Focus. She approached the car.

 

Clear as a bell, Hot Stuff by Donna Summer greeted her. Huh, the vehicle was totally destroyed, but that must be one hell of a radio. Disco. She smiled, unable to help herself. Disco was a secret passion of hers. Denise leaned through the broken window and looked at the dashboard. 29.9. That can’t be right. She shrugged. Well, she’d give it a shot on the way home. Maybe she’d get something half decent out of this crappy day.