Roadkill
Posted: Sun Sep 09, 2007 5:21 pm
A friend in the local HPD passed along to me a lead about a month back about a string of fatal accidents on the Beltway.
At first they thought it was street racers just removing themselves from the gene pool, but then they found the minivan.
Sherry Thomas had been rushing her daughter, Courtney, with an ear infection to the hospital around 3 in the morning when she lost control of the mini-van and wound up in the ditch. Fortunately both of them were properly buckled in at the time and the police pulled them from the wreck with only minor injuries.
My friend with the HPD was one of the responding officers. Apparently Ms. Thomas blames the crash on some sort of face suddenly pressing itself against the driver side window while she was cruising along at 60. Normally the officer would have thought her crazy, except Courtney also said something about a “scary man.”
That’s why my friend called me in. So for the last couple of weeks I’ve been dividing my night patrols between the Blight and the Beltway, looking for a sign of this “scary man.”
Last night I got lucky.
I was up on my overpass with my binoculars, looking for signs of activity. About 2:15 a flash of sparks caught my eye.
I jumped back on my bike and twisted the throttle on full. Soon I was roaring down the on ramp and onto the Beltway.
It took me a couple of minutes to catch up with it. It was shadowing a big rig . . . zipping in and out under the trailer. Every now and then it would reach into the spinning wheel – sparks flying as it ground down the wheel hub.
As I pulled closer I got a clearer view, the thing was a little over about 5 feet tall, capped with a main of spiky hair. It had a nose roughly the size and shape of a child’s football. It was clad from the waist down in leather pants with spiked knee pads. Its chest and arms and face appeared to be decorated with tattoos. Strapped to its left arm as a shield was a stop sign. In its right hand, it held a metal sign post, which it was using to grind pieces out of the wheel hub. Stranger still, it was riding some sort of motorized unicycle.
I’d been guessing a gremlin, but this thing was too big, and I’ve never heard of a gremlin using technology before.
I goosed the throttle to pull up closer and drew my Piece. Just before I squeezed the trigger, the spiky haired freak ducked under the trailer again, putting the wheels between me and it.
I backed off the throttle and slid around behind the trailer, the freak was working on the wheels again . . . ‘till he looked back over his shoulder at me.
I fired my Piece, but I was too slow. My shots sparked on the metal side of the trailer as the freak zipped back to the far side of the wheels.
I went back around the rear of the trailer, gun at the ready. As soon as I cleared the back end, it ducked back around.
We played cat and mouse like this, back and forth for a couple of trips. I was coming back around the left side of the trailer again when I saw the little freak pluck one of the spikes from it head and drive it into the big rig’s tire.
The tire immediately blew and shredded, sending pieces of steel belted radial back at my head.
I ducked against the bike and swerved hard – just in time to avoid being taken out by the debris.
I got back on track and roared after the little freak – he’d given up on the truck and was speeding away.
That little unicycle of his was fast. I didn’t start gaining on him until I pushed my own bike up over a buck and twenty.
He was weaving back and forth, making it hard to keep my gun on him. I fired a few times, but only struck pavement. I had to get closer.
As I drew in for an easier shot, he leaned left and headed for the guard rail. A pump of his legs and he, and the unicycle, were over in the oncoming lanes.
He kept going up the highway, parallel to me. Swerving around the oncoming cars with ease, he gunned his throttle and started pulling away from me.
I wasn’t about to let the little freak get away. I accelerated and kept up with him. He was too far for a quality shot, but I needed to keep him in sight until I found away over there.
As we raced along I looked ahead and saw my chance. An abandoned car on my side of the road gave me a ramp to leap both guard rails.
I came down hard in the oncoming lanes, sparks pouring out from my bike where I bottomed out. Fortunately I’d reinforced the bottom of my bike for just that sort of eventuality.
I chased him up the oncoming lanes, pulling closer as we both weaved around the traffic. The constant movement wasn’t giving me any clear shots, but he wasn’t getting away either.
He broke left again and I leaned over and followed him up the on ramp. Both of us cleared the intersecting road without touching asphalt and continued down the off ramp at over 100 mph.
We’d just reached the bottom of the ramp when I looked into the headlights.
At first they thought it was street racers just removing themselves from the gene pool, but then they found the minivan.
Sherry Thomas had been rushing her daughter, Courtney, with an ear infection to the hospital around 3 in the morning when she lost control of the mini-van and wound up in the ditch. Fortunately both of them were properly buckled in at the time and the police pulled them from the wreck with only minor injuries.
My friend with the HPD was one of the responding officers. Apparently Ms. Thomas blames the crash on some sort of face suddenly pressing itself against the driver side window while she was cruising along at 60. Normally the officer would have thought her crazy, except Courtney also said something about a “scary man.”
That’s why my friend called me in. So for the last couple of weeks I’ve been dividing my night patrols between the Blight and the Beltway, looking for a sign of this “scary man.”
Last night I got lucky.
I was up on my overpass with my binoculars, looking for signs of activity. About 2:15 a flash of sparks caught my eye.
I jumped back on my bike and twisted the throttle on full. Soon I was roaring down the on ramp and onto the Beltway.
It took me a couple of minutes to catch up with it. It was shadowing a big rig . . . zipping in and out under the trailer. Every now and then it would reach into the spinning wheel – sparks flying as it ground down the wheel hub.
As I pulled closer I got a clearer view, the thing was a little over about 5 feet tall, capped with a main of spiky hair. It had a nose roughly the size and shape of a child’s football. It was clad from the waist down in leather pants with spiked knee pads. Its chest and arms and face appeared to be decorated with tattoos. Strapped to its left arm as a shield was a stop sign. In its right hand, it held a metal sign post, which it was using to grind pieces out of the wheel hub. Stranger still, it was riding some sort of motorized unicycle.
I’d been guessing a gremlin, but this thing was too big, and I’ve never heard of a gremlin using technology before.
I goosed the throttle to pull up closer and drew my Piece. Just before I squeezed the trigger, the spiky haired freak ducked under the trailer again, putting the wheels between me and it.
I backed off the throttle and slid around behind the trailer, the freak was working on the wheels again . . . ‘till he looked back over his shoulder at me.
I fired my Piece, but I was too slow. My shots sparked on the metal side of the trailer as the freak zipped back to the far side of the wheels.
I went back around the rear of the trailer, gun at the ready. As soon as I cleared the back end, it ducked back around.
We played cat and mouse like this, back and forth for a couple of trips. I was coming back around the left side of the trailer again when I saw the little freak pluck one of the spikes from it head and drive it into the big rig’s tire.
The tire immediately blew and shredded, sending pieces of steel belted radial back at my head.
I ducked against the bike and swerved hard – just in time to avoid being taken out by the debris.
I got back on track and roared after the little freak – he’d given up on the truck and was speeding away.
That little unicycle of his was fast. I didn’t start gaining on him until I pushed my own bike up over a buck and twenty.
He was weaving back and forth, making it hard to keep my gun on him. I fired a few times, but only struck pavement. I had to get closer.
As I drew in for an easier shot, he leaned left and headed for the guard rail. A pump of his legs and he, and the unicycle, were over in the oncoming lanes.
He kept going up the highway, parallel to me. Swerving around the oncoming cars with ease, he gunned his throttle and started pulling away from me.
I wasn’t about to let the little freak get away. I accelerated and kept up with him. He was too far for a quality shot, but I needed to keep him in sight until I found away over there.
As we raced along I looked ahead and saw my chance. An abandoned car on my side of the road gave me a ramp to leap both guard rails.
I came down hard in the oncoming lanes, sparks pouring out from my bike where I bottomed out. Fortunately I’d reinforced the bottom of my bike for just that sort of eventuality.
I chased him up the oncoming lanes, pulling closer as we both weaved around the traffic. The constant movement wasn’t giving me any clear shots, but he wasn’t getting away either.
He broke left again and I leaned over and followed him up the on ramp. Both of us cleared the intersecting road without touching asphalt and continued down the off ramp at over 100 mph.
We’d just reached the bottom of the ramp when I looked into the headlights.
