A mile before reaching Deertrack Hill, those headlights moved even closer. In the mirror, the car reminded me of a dark monster with glowing eyes. Lightning flashed and I got a better look. I gasped and Mom turned toward me.
“What is it, Darcy?”
My throat felt dry. “That car following us, Mom; I can’t see it well, but it is a big car like the Buick Ray Drake drove.”
My mother shook her head. “Surely it isn’t, Darcy. Maybe it just happens to resemble Drake’s car. There are lots of Buicks on the road.”
I decided to check him out. “I’m going to slow down and give him a chance to go around us.”
When I let up on the accelerator, the other driver did the same. A cold finger of fear traced its way down my spine.
I increased my speed. Our follower increased his speed. Trying to keep my voice steady, I said, “My cell phone, Mom. Get it out of my purse and punch in 911.”
Mom fumbled through my purse and flicked open the phone. She groaned. “Darcy, the battery is dead.”
With the next flash of lightning, I knew the car following us was not Drake’s. The silhouette was different. It was more square-topped with darkened windows. It appeared black in the eerie light.
Those headlights which at first had seemed friendly now seemed ominous and threatening.
Mom twisted around to look behind us again. “Oh, no, Darcy! It is coming too fast. It’s going to hit us.”
The big car nudged my back bumper. Mom cried, “Oh, my Lord, help us!”
My car fishtailed across the highway. I wrestled with the steering wheel until I finally got back into the right lane. My face felt stiff and I tasted blood where I had bitten my lip. Gritting my teeth, I muttered, “I can’t let him pass.” Newspaper articles of people being forced off the road raced through my mind.
The pursuers headlights grew larger in my rearview mirror. The car was coming at us again.
“Hang on!” I hissed and hit the accelerator. My car responded and we surged forward. A road sign cautioned us that the speed limit was twenty-five miles per hour. The sign passed in a blur.
Behind us, our tormentor came so quickly that we seemed not to be moving at all. Despite my best efforts, the other driver pulled into the lane beside me. He edged ever closer to the center line. I inched nearer the ditch. Glancing at my mother, I saw that she was praying.
A bolt of lightning shivered the sky, hovering long enough to make trees along the highway stand out for a split second like some eerie black and white photograph. In that instant, I saw inside the metal hulk beside us. The car contained not one man, but two.
We careened around the first curve down Deertrack Hill. Tires screamed. The guardrail was only a few inches away and below it was the Ventris River.
The other driver closed the gap between his passenger door and my door. The first bump was a dull thud as he struck and we skidded. Then, he whammed us again. Sparks flew as metal struck metal and my car slid. We hit the guardrail with a rending sound.
Terror settled into a cold, hard knot of fury in the pit of my stomach. I would not continue this crazy race that we could not win, but I would not be at the mercy of this evil being who was playing with us as if he were a cat and we, the cornered mice. We had one chance, a slim one. Praying that we would join the ranks of those who survived a tumble down Deertrack Hill, I determined that we would indeed go over; not sideways, but nose first.
“Hang on!” I yelled. Stomping the accelerator, I wrenched the steering wheel to the right. My car lurched up and over the guardrail. The last thing I heard was the sound of that reinforced rail snapping like a Popsicle stick.
Excerpt from The Cemetery Club, by Blanche Day Manos and Barbara Burgess, Chapter 21.
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