Head in the Clouds

Reader’s Choice selection from DMC’s flash fiction group, Friday Frights.

by Lisa Lane:

Paul and Frank—the Paul and Son on the logo that stretched across both sides of their company moving van—listened to classic rock on the radio while the van inched its way through the mountain’s tight curves.  Paul was a large man, his massive grip going white-knuckled on the steering wheel as every turn seemed to grow sharper than the last.  His wide jaw went tight, his thick arms tense.  Had he the place to stop and turn around, he would have.  Unfortunately, he had no choice but to continue forward with the hope that by some miracle, he might maneuver the van safely through the difficult pass.

Frank’s shirt was saturated with perspiration, and his right leg ached from his constant hitting of the imaginary passenger side brake.  His hands clenched the sides of his seat, his gnawed-down fingernails biting into the worn leather.

Paul let out a deep sigh, not out of boredom or frustration, but instead to relieve the tension building in the core of his body.  “Why don’t you take another look at the map and see how much more of this we have to go through?”

Frank offered a nervous nod as he reached to open the glove compartment and snatched a folded map.  He studied it for a moment before glancing out in search of a mile marker.  He watched the road for a few painfully long minutes.  “I’m not sure where we are.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, son.”

The young man, twenty years Paul’s junior, was nearly half his father’s size, with finer features and a slightly shorter build.  He looked up from the map just in time to witness the van’s near-miss with the flimsy guard rail.  He gasped, stomping the imaginary brake with newfound intensity.  “Watch out!”

“I’m doing my best!”

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“Shut up so I can concentrate on the road!”  He over-corrected, nearly sending the other side of the truck into the rocky mountainside.  He forced the wheel back, sending them into the center of the road before finding a steady hold on the right side.

“Jesus!”

“You want to drive?  If you think you can get us through this pass any better, be my guest.”

Frank shook his head, burying his nose in the map in yet another futile attempt at finding their current location on the road.  “This is ridiculous . . . why the hell can’t I find our location?”

“Oh, for Christsake!”  With an angry jerk of the wheel, he veered onto the thin shoulder and lunged for the parking brake.  He snatched the map and traced their route with a fleshy finger.  He looked up to find a mile marker, keeping it to himself when their location eluded him as well.

“So?”

Paul shrugged, folding the map and tossing it back to his son in a way that betrayed his attempt at hiding his growing frustration.  “We just keep driving forward.  We’ll get there.”  He released the parking brake and eased the truck onto the desolate road.

“So where are we?”

“We’ve got another half hour or so,” he guessed.

Frank crossed his arms and shook his head with a subtle roll of his eyes.  “Sure.”

They both held their breath as the moving van struggled with another tight turn, neither immediately exhaling as the bend opened to a patch of thick fog.  It enveloped the van in an instant, and Paul slowed it to a crawl as the visibility suddenly reduced to mere inches ahead.

Frank swallowed hard, turning his attention to the radio as the station fell into static.  He busied himself with the dial, slowly trying each station to no avail.  “What the hell?”

“Mountains must be blocking the radio waves.”

Frank finished moving through the stations then turned off the radio with a frustrated flick of his wrist.  “Figures.”

Both men looked up as they heard a high-pitched screech echo through the fog.  It sounded like some kind of bird of prey, but in the white mist, their minds transformed it into the horrified cry of a woman in distress.  Both listened in silence, waiting for the animal to sound again.  Their slow, measured breaths seemed amplified in their sudden vigilance.  The hum of the van’s engine was the only other sound.

Paul slammed on the brake as a small hawk crashed into the windshield with a heavy thud.  Its body sent several cracks shooting from the bloody epicenter as the flailing body disappeared over the roof.  The engine stalled and the steering wheel locked as the van slid into the guard rail and stopped just short of breaking through.  Paul’s body shook, sweat sliding his grip as he continued to cling as best as he could to the wheel.  His knees trembled, threatening to give out and release the brake despite him.  He eyed the damaged windshield, shuddering at the streak of bright, red blood that now trickled down the cracked safety glass.

“Dad—”

“I’m fine.  Just give me a minute!”

Frank nodded.  He turned to look out his window, watching the swirls of white and gray obscuring his view.  He looked down at the crumpled map in his unstable hands, and he loosened his grip, doing his best to smooth out the web of creases.

Paul set the parking brake.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are—”

“I need to take a piss.”  Still visibly shaking, the large man opened his door and eased his feet to the ground.  He slammed the door behind him, cursing aloud as he made his way to the murky mountainside.  His hands trembled as he unzipped his loose-fit jeans and worked on relieving himself, but his nerves got the better of him and he found himself struggling for the release.  He closed his eyes in an attempt to let go of the distractions that seemed intent on holding him back.  Still, the mist tickled his nose, the smell of the engine filled his senses, and the mental image of the flailing hawk and cracked windshield held him from his task.

He turned as he heard Frank’s door open then quickly close with a heavy slam.  “I’ll just be another minute!”  He raised an eyelid and glanced to the side as he received no response.  “Frank?”

He stuffed himself back into his pants as he looked around, the silence bringing his heartbeat to an uncomfortably fast pace.  He could feel his pulse against his chest, his blood pressure rising as he continued to search through the fog.  “Frank?”

The young man’s shadow became visible as he took a careful step forward.

“Frank?  What are you doing?”  Paul’s breath escaped him as he caught a glimpse of the young man’s horrified face.  “What’s wrong, son?”

Frank’s lips quivered, his eyes focused intently on the man.  “What are youdoing here?”

“What?”

“Where’s my dad?”

“I’m right here, son!”

Frank took another step forward, tears streaming down his face.  “What have you done with him?”

Paul staggered back, a shock of horror launching through his body as his leg hit the guard rail.  He glanced back, dizziness threatening his balance as he saw the ominous chasm only steps behind him.  His heart raced, beads of sweat rolling down his face as the shifting haze seemed to take on the form of a face.  Ever moving with the rolling fog, the face had a demonic look to it, smiling maniacally, its eyes slanted in heavy disdain.  Swirls of white created ever-moving waves of hair, and for a moment, Paul thought he could hear it laughing at him.

He turned back to Frank, who inched toward him apprehensively.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s all your fault!” Frank cried, shaking his head angrily, fearfully.  “What did you do with the body?  Bury it?  Weigh it down in the lake?”

Paul leaned against the guard rail, his jaw agape.  “What are you talking about?”

“The body!  I know you killed him!  You killed my father, you asshole!”

“I’m right here, son!”

Frank looked pale, his eyes dark and his face more fragile than usual.  His eyes closed tightly for only a moment, just long enough to squeeze out another set of heavy tears.  They rushed down his cheeks unnoticed, his eyes set on their target.  “Did you think it would be so easy for you to get away with it?  Did you think no one would notice?”

“Son, I’m right here!”

Frank charged forward with a horrified cry, slamming into Paul with his outstretched hands and knocking the man backward over the guard rail.

Paul’s arms whirled forward, his hands desperate to grab anything they could as he fell backward and continued over the mountainside.  He screamed, his eyes meeting his son’s, noting the abrupt terror that took hold of his face as the sudden realization of what he had done fell over him.

Frank’s eyes went wide and he lunged forward, but not quickly enough to save the man from his eminent free fall.  “Dad!”

But it was too late.  Paul fell backward into the foggy chasm, his limbs thrashing as he screamed like only a man falling to his death could, and Frank watched as the demon’s face filled the chasm and swallowed his father in a single, satisfied bite.

Frank staggered back, watching the face dissipate, his breath rapid and shallow as he stared into the emptiness below.

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