Gridlock
Congestion. Ninety minutes. The worst for a while on this busy street for Ted in the capital. And on the way to a job interview. Frustrated wavy lines of groans from city drivers locked in an inescapable traffic jam as exhausts belched out fumes. Despite the immobile lanes, Ted’s thoughts drifted from a simmered impatience to an ex-boss, ex-mate and a disruptive life changing day. The day his daily commute to the old job ended. Ted, the willing employee, had tolerated a soul-crushing drive from North Kent every day to work in London’s dense metropolis – and always punctual. Sorry, Ted, we have to let you go. Those words spoken by Phil many weeks ago were still so fresh in Ted’s mind, difficult to forget. Moments never to thin with time. Poor Ted, now left perplexed over that moment as his once best buddy – who gave him a leg up with a job – decided one day to give Ted the boot. The humiliation as he ambled out of the office with heavy feet. And to top it off, Nigel, the company ass licker, shouted, “Bye, Theodore.” To add insult to injury, blurting out a name Ted never liked, a known factoid to Nigel. Since a child, he’d made a point of making it a rule to call him Ted. “What a pr-pr-pr-prick! Why did my friend do that? Why is Ni-Ni-Nigel still there?” The words slipped through Ted’s lips as he shook in anger. He recalled the last moments at his job in the dense growling slither of vehicles, the day Phil rejected his services. A good buddy forced to favour business cuts over a long friendship, being close friends since school days. What was it? The career shattering moment that day flashed by like a sore memory as he tightened a grip on the steering wheel. That day when the job vanished in those words. What did that prick say? Ted can never forget, and he played the moment back in his head. “Sorry, Ted, we have to let many staff go. We have to hand out redundancies to you, Ted, and some others, as the excess IT staff is excessively costing the firm.” Phil’s words were as clear as though uttered yesterday. “Just business, nothing personal.” Ted soaked up those words and moments, lost in bad memories. A past that enabled him to forget about the jam that pinned him to a polluted road, even if only for a minute or two away from the traffic chaos. “Hah. Like Nigel was EVER a firm asset. I fixed shit. Even did those awful extra hours on weekends, and that is the big thanks I get,” Ted shouted at angry wide eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Was that when the madness started?” Ted pondered. “Or was it the day I shrieked at my poor worried wife?” Another sore memory flashed by. His wife, undeserving of the anger thrown at her. Ted cringed as he recalled his strained voice that rainy afternoon not far enough in the past. How the claims bellowed out, driven by a deeper angst that the world itself sought to ruin him. Ted mulled over those embittered rants the day he came home with the bad news. How he wagged a finger at his wife, and tugged his hair, sweaty hands, then clenched into fists. Ted heard those sore words again so clearly, as though he still lived in that bitter moment while she covered her ears. Is there a God? Oh yeah, and he is one mean motherfucker, and I am on his shit list. He wants to fuck up my life now, my turn. Well, fuck you! The face of a patient but tortured woman in Ted’s life that day lingered in his thoughts for a moment. And Ted wondered if she thought it was aimed at her or God, considering his fists high in her direction. Ted remembered that his exemplary wife hoped it ended soon. Her unease as she gripped the sides of a sore head. He recalled those incessant fast stomps from one wall to another, manic paces as he threw fists into thin air. Ted slapped his cheek and focused on the road ahead. Not terrible memories. “Focus on progress, Ted. Not the past. Let’s get this job and get my life back.” He spoke to his rear-view mirror reflection. The chug of vehicle engines purred on all sides of the car in the excruciating city gridlock. No movement ahead. Not even at a snail’s pace; not an inch of progress. Snapped out of stews over his rants at home, he maintained focus on the lines of steel and chugging engines that snaked nowhere. A wave of putrid fumes spat at the open window. Ted punched the close window button, despite searing heat on an otherwise sunny and feel-good city day. “I don’t want these schmucks in their cars to hear my pains. That’s between me and,” Ted nodded at his rear-view mirror sweaty face, “you. I won’t lose it. I’m going through a rough patch, nothing I can’t handle, nothing I can’t solve.” He clutched the wheel as the endless delay of gridlock hell ensued. Worse, Ted’s old excuse for a laptop atop the front passenger seat hit the frozen wastelands of screen freezing hell. An annoyance that forced him to perform some quick fixes while stuck in a jam. Ted clutched his hair. The futility of progression towards getting to the interview, more apparent by the minute. “I won’t get a chance for any last-minute interview preparation.” Ted’s thoughts focused on the role duties: same stuff, IT experience needed, another corporate machine driven IT manager role. A job designed for computer jargon lovers; great for Ted as a whizz at programming and those dull networking device setups that draw yawns from most folks. “What a time to do that? Freezing bollocks. Never mind, laptop. It’s okay… all fine,” Ted gasped as the slow booting laptop mocked him, “My resume is with the agency. I just want to read over the company goals and the role specifics again before I start the interview. It’s stored in the cloud, saved, no problem. Relax, wait until there. I’ll use their internet, reopen the document, quickly read over their site too, nail the interview, go home, have a coffee, start over in a new job.” He nodded at his rearview reflection; determined if also frustrated eyes stared back. This journey, all too familiar because of several interviews since the boot from the firm. Same road, different destination. Ted hoped the numbers game theory worked. After some failed interviews, one job opportunity blossoms. Experienced yet falling at the last hurdle. On each agency call, the bad news: Not this one Ted, but further opportunities will rise. Why? Something I said? Did not say? Who do they think they are? Ghosting me like that. Why do they smile at me and reject me the next day? Ted dwelled on the job interview as each passing second contributed to arriving late. Lateness had disrupted two interviews, but Ted knew he’d left Kent much earlier this time. The traffic delays stabbed at him as he squealed. “Why today? The only way, the quickest way, why?” Phone call, accompanied by a flat headache inducing sound by choosing the dullest phone ringtone. Ted grabbed it. Tap. “Hello,” a raised voice built from frustration at the roadblock. “Hello. Could I speak with Theodore Wallis?” Ted felt his blood boil. “Who is this?” “We spoke to you regarding an enquiry last week into withdrawing from your pension pot before you reach 55. I’d like to go over…” Ted yelled. “Fuck you. I never asked. And your scam is not fooling anyone anymore, thieving morons. And don’t call again, assole!” He slam-dunked his phone into an open laptop case, which bounced out-of-reach under the passenger seat. With weary twitching eyelids closed, hands behind back, he gripped and twisted a wrist as though to wring out excess dripping sweat and stress. “Theodore, Theodore, thanks Mum for that.” Weary eyes snapped open. No change. No vehicles had crept along an inch for a while. This torture wrapped Ted in chains, spurring on unbearable anxiety. Every trip to an interview met with the same problem, sucking up valuable time. Ted spun on his sore butt to check for any way out. All intersecting streets blocked; queues of drivers trapped in a painful standstill. So many resigned to quit had switched off their engines. “Shit. Maybe I need to look outside the city for a job. Closer to home.” He regarded the mirror as though expecting a response. “What do you think? This is bullshit, right?” And ambulance sirens from the rear. Ted really yearned to feel the shrill sounds batter his eardrums as they pierced the chassis, just what he needed right now. The ambulance tried to force a path through tight lanes but found static movement. The occasional whir of blades from helicopters flying low said it all. This gridlock was newsworthy. “The news channels love anything disruptive.” Ted muttered. The ambulance then slipped through a narrow gap as drivers moved somewhat, and past Ted’s car. Ted shook his sweat beaded head. “So, behold the reason for the mighty hold up. Wondered why it was so bad. Inconvenienced by someone’s bad driving.” Every second sought to grind withering patience further. Ted splayed his arms wide to stretch tired limbs, then relaxed them. The heat graduated to unbearable levels. Summer in the city is great, but not in an old car with a failed air conditioner to choke you throughout the nightmare journey. Ted dwelled on how he should have bought a new car upon the opportunity being possible, while on a good salary. He rummaged around the passenger area for the phone. A painful reach under the seat for it. Then, it spoke to him. The voice. The voice spoke. “Remove your belt first, numb nuts.” Ted wondered about the origin of the words. If they passed through his mind of their own accord or were his own thoughts. “Was that the madness again? Why the voices?” He whispered. Ted’s frantic palm sought the phone, which had bounced and hid in the back somewhere. He huffed in frustration and gave up. His open wallet lay on the floor too; inside a photo of Ted with his wife, happy and full of glee on a Caribbean trip. No pressure, just relaxation, plus Ted once afforded it. He clung to the photo; it reminded of how things could be better. A brief warming sensation travelled through his body like the soothe of hot cocoa. He peered at his open laptop case on the passenger seat. A note. A crumpled piece of paper showed a reminder in wonky handwriting: Time to visit Phil. Ted’s daily habit; he liked to scribble reminders, so absentminded. “Ah. Phil. After the interview. Sort this out once and for all. Phil, buddy, hah. I still want answers. Why did you sack me and not douches like Nigel? I want more than a boss to explain. I need to hear it from a friend. You are still a friend, Phil. Right? To my face, why? We are…not done.” And the voice reminded him of the rest of Phil’s reasoning that day he got fired. The voice spoke. “Simple economics, Ted. Only business. Phil had to cut costs, nothing personal, he told you that.” Ted flinched. “Who said that?” He dismissed it and grunted in disgust at the memory of his friend’s betrayal and slid back into the seat. “Damn the voices, damn them.” Ahead, the traffic jam continued to freeze the lanes. Never ending congestion. City dwellers able to pace around on foot slid between vehicles and onto their destinations. That is the freedom Ted wished for as the swell of sweat bubbled on his forehead. Disembarking and abandoning the vehicle became a more rational plan by the second. Lots of folks could not get home or meet a schedule; time wasting that crept under Ted’s skin. Something drew lots of pedestrians into a dense crowd in the narrow space a few yards up front. “What is the chaos about? Why does an accident fuck up everyone?” Ted shouted. The voyeur in him wanted to leap from the seat, escape the gridlock. Just to exit the damn car. The voice spoke. “What do you care? You’re a bum now, signing on, and late for an interview very soon…” Ted heard the words, its scornful tone. Eye pupils slid left to right. “Nope, no-one close by,” he mumbled. He swung around, the twisted belt strained. No-one. Ted wiped his face. “I’m losing it, fuck it. No, please, not today, not the madness.” With a hard tug on the door handle, Ted then kicked the door open and jumped out. Bliss filled a tortured man’s psyche; the fresher, cooler air doused the heat in a refreshing stream despite the stench of fumes. “You’re not planning on leaving your car, Mister?” A voice from behind called. Ted turned, eyeballs strained, teeth bared and unaware of his quite harried appearance. “Checking what is up. Will be back.” Ted made his way forward. The voice spoke. “Hey, numb nuts, get back in the fucking car.” Ted’s neck twisted around, nostrils flared, a guttural roar bellowed. “What did you call me, fucker?!” The taxi driver’s head poked out, squinting. “You what?” Ted approached him, whites of his eyes clear. “What? What? I just told you…” The stunned driver flinched, one hand ready to close the window. “I’m going to see what’s going on ahead. One minute, I will be back in my car.” Ted’s voice strained against the yell. At a brisk pace, he headed towards the crowd, leaving a startled taxi driver to mumble assole back. Ted stopped. A confused gaze back and forth at his car blended with an odd urge to check the boot. “Why? The boot,” Ted mumbled. A laugh broke through the beeps and frustrated driver chattering. Aimed in Ted’s direction. At least, that’s how it seemed to him. Mockery. Out of thin air. The voice spoke. “Oi, numb nuts!” “Was that the madness again?” Ted growled. He sent several weary drivers an enraged face, hoping to catch the culprit; a stare that regarded the drivers with a curled lip and wrinkled nose like at the sight of faeces for a few moments. Ted regarded some drivers, their long stares at him. He returned squinty eyes before he walked on. “Why am I hearing voices, laughing, why?” Ted muttered. “What is this thing in my head that torments me?” Police officers tried to disperse the expanding crowd ahead. The ambulance had punched through the tight spaces. Ted stood there. “Shit,” Ted tapped his pockets; reminded of his phone tossed and bounced into a neat hiding spot under the seats. He never failed to call home, if late for an interview. Ted shuffled past bystanders. Some police officers prevented anyone approaching the twisted hulk of smoky metal that used to be a car, rolled over onto its topside. A damaged truck with steam flowing out of its radiator told the story of this headlong collision. Ambulance workers had rushed to the smoking steel. Wisps of coolant tickled Ted’s nostrils. “He tried to jump the red light.” An elderly woman spoke as she leant against her bonnet, another voyeur. “Well, tough. Shouldn’t have done that. Look, we all have to suffer because of his inconvenience.” The woman squinted and returned a soft head shake at Ted’s words. “The guy may be seriously hurt. Or worse. Show respect.” Ted was just in time as someone was carefully pulled from the vehicle. The paramedics pulled out some guy on a stretcher. And the guy’s face lit up Ted’s day. Nigel, face ashen. Ted overheard a voice from one paramedic say he breathed, but shallow. Ted lost control of any morals. The giggles erupted, momentary bursts at first, but soon in a series of intimidating expulsions of hysterics. “Haha…haha…I know that assole…hahaha…oh…can’t stop myself.” “Are you a freak, sir?” The woman squealed. Ted swivelled on his heels and headed back. A hand clamped mouth allowed a muffled merciless laugh to slip through. Splat. Ted ceased his laughter. The greasy remains of a burger wrap slid down from waist to lower leg before a final slippery descent to the road. A laugh ensued. Ted spotted the obviously guilty one. A kid in the back of a car chuckled as his apathetic parents showed zero concern. A powerful desire to berate the adolescent burned, but Ted continued back to the car. All clogged up vehicles rolled forward, slow movement but progress. Ted rushed to his door, slammed it shut and fired up the engine. He checked for tissues in the glove compartment, none. A searching hand withdrew an unused microfiber washcloth and with quick strokes, he wiped streaks of brown sauce away from his charcoal trousers as much as possible. The rearview caught sight of the taxi driver as he frowned and complained with a lip movement that suggested sore words along with bated breath. The taxi driver’s fingers tapped the dashboard. Ted looked away from the mirror, clenched his jaw, and rolled forward. Moments later, as soon as a respite from the jam arrived, the flow stopped. A frustrated Ted hammered the wheel. “Aghrrrr.” Kids in a car opposite started a screaming ritual. Whatever ignited their loud behaviour, who knows? One yelled out an open window, words plain incomprehensible, somewhere between nah-nah-nahnahnah and gibberish. Perhaps at Ted taking a greasy burger, but he ignored the potential mockery. Kids, that’s all. The voice spoke. “Just kids, kids are nothing. Not your concern today, Teddy.” Ted’s eyes darted from left to right before twisting his neck to scout around the interior. “Who the fuck? No. No. Not the madness, not that.” He stretched out an arm and searched the bowels of the car interior under the seats, intent on finding the phone. Voila! Ted clasped the tossed phone wedged under his seat, as it turned out. He checked the phone clock. Twenty minutes to the interview. He wanted to arrive early. This plan grew more futile by the second. Ted pondered on a radical if a reasonable solution: abandon the car and walk. The employer’s premises were only ten minutes away. A serious consideration. The idea swelled and begged Ted to act against the horrendous jam. The voice spoke again. The voice spoke. “You can’t abandon your motor. Can’t say fuck this and go.” “Why? Why can’t I do that?” Ted bellowed, “Or, maybe. Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t, and… talking to myself again.” Thin rivers of sweat slithered down his forehead. He stank. Ted smelled bad odour billow from sweaty armpits as a cheese-like stink festered in the heat. “Great. Hope the interviewer is not a woman, “ Ted murmured. Traffic movement again. “Ah, thank you, thank you.” Congested vehicles were diverted to one lane; the diversion circumvented lanes away from the busy accident scene. Slow pace but faster despite vehicles forced to syphon into a bottleneck. A sharp halt. Ted’s car, now so close to bumper to bumper with the car in front as he hit the brakes. It seemed the flow reached a consistent series of starts and stops at last though, some progress. But matters grew worse ahead of the diversion – road works. The diversion around the accident only met with the next roadblock. Ted closed his eyes for a moment. He wished for the final obstruction as the clanks of construction work on new buildings rung. Fingernails scraping a blackboard would upset Ted less. As the lane of vehicles crept along, beeps and croaking machinery drew nearer. Another reason to lock up the city roads and add strength to the sour cocktail of gridlock misery. “Of course. Time for the council to dig up roads. You must be yanking my chain. You guys familiar with noise barriers, by the way,” Ted shouted, “Not even rush hour yet. I’ve an interview, a damn interview. Why won’t this traffic go faster? Move it, move it.” The voice spoke. “Looks like you’re fucked!” Ted searched for the voice’s origin. “Can’t be me, I, the, the, just the heat.” The voice spoke. “Yeah, it’s you.” Cyclists drifted through the narrow gap between the lanes, free of the burden of a trapped hulk of metal. “Yeah, good idea. Sure. That is what I should have done, except I have to travel from fucking Kent.” Ted’s gaze moved to a speed camera. He grinned. “Next time, I get a train into London and then use the tube.” He checked the time. Ten minutes and then late. “Shit.” Ted grabbed his phone and, with a heavy sigh, he punched up the recruitment agency number. Engaged. “Damn it.” Ted tried again and again – each call met an engaged line. Sun rays cooked the interior. He opened the window and hoped the air might brush his damp cheeks. A roar zipped past, a motorcycle weaved its way through the gaps. Ted grimaced, antagonised by anyone faster than this lane of traffic. A few more roared past, fumes drifted into Ted’s car. He punched the button to close the window again after a coughing fit.“Shit. Shit.” He pulled at his sweat drenched hair, sodden from rising heat and anxiety. Damp armpits had graduated to a stale smell. Ted’s deodorant failure exacerbated the day’s pain. He scrambled around for a can of spray normally rolling around beneath the passenger seat. A habit he indulged on the way to work upon realising how rancid armpits disturb the day in summer heat. That detestable musky sweat, not the sweat of pheromones during sex with the wife, but that caustic odour that worsens by the minute. No can, no odour killer. Movement. With more haste, the single diverted lane of vehicles moved on with the promise of potential consistency. One hand tight on the wheel, Ted rang the agency again. A response. “Hello. Could I speak to Gemma please?” “Gemma is out of the office for an hour. Can I help?” A young woman’s voice answered. “Okay, okay, this is Ted. I have an interview today…” “Sorry, a bit noisy at your end. Did you say Ted?” Another motorcycle sped past and drowned the conversation as the one lane fanned out into three lanes. Impatient drivers hit the pedals. Ted sped up. Some haste at last. “Yes.” Ted replied. “How can I help you? Did you say you have an interview here today?” The voice spoke. “Nope, Ted’s gonna miss his interview. No job again, haha hahaha.” Ted paused. The voices. The frequency of that scornful, rough tone. “Sorry Ted, not sure I heard you right.” Ted’s blood ran cold. How did she hear that? “No, hi, sorry, look, I’m stuck in traffic, quite stressed, massive gridlock and looks like I’ll be a little late for an interview.” The vehicles picked up more speed, clocked at 20mph, hope now stronger. “Sorry. I’m…I won’t be there for…maybe another twenty minutes.” “Ermm…I’ll need to check. Okay, Ted, you said. Can you confirm your…” Silence. The call dropped. “Hello…hello…” Ted called again. Engaged. “Okay, keep my cool. She has the message.” He hit the brake. A screeching halt. Gridlock again. Ted ground his teeth as a hysterical fit ensued. “No, no, no,” he thumped the dashboard, “no, no way.” He tried to breathe slower. Ted drew lengthy breaths and released one after the other as slippery palms squeezed the rubber wheel. For a few relieving seconds, he’d forgotten about the jam. The voice spoke. “Told you. You’re fucked for that interview.” Ted rocked back and forth aggressively as the voice tormented him. The car vibrated. “Who is that? What do you want? Why are you in my head?” The voice spoke. “I’m you, dummy. You talk to yourself. I’m your guide. You will need me. Bet you can’t remember…what you did. You’re not sleeping well, Ted.” Ted’s concentration drifted, eyes narrowed, head flinched a little. “Wha…what do you mean?” The voice spoke. “The madness has taken so much of you. That being me. It’s affected your memory, Ted. The seething voice inside you.” A phone ringtone. The wife’s ringtone. Ahead, no movement. Traffic winding through the city towers with no end. Lines of steel and tyre locked in a tight battle to reach needy destinations. “Honey.” Her voice was tinged with concern. “Yes. Hi. Look, stuck in traffic here. God knows when I’ll make the interview. I’m late now. Nothing I can,” Ted sniffled, a beaten man, “do now, can’t get a job, missed this interview…” Her voice cracked. “Ted, what interview?” Ted, face puffy, sniffed. “What do you mean, what interview? The computer job, a new firm, on the way there and I’m late and…” “Is that where you went today? Rushing off like that. Ted, you told me you had that interview last week. You didn’t get the role. So, do you have another interview?” Ted stalled. Puzzled thoughts. A sinking defeat brewed. “No, no other job interview. Just this one. What do…what did you mean last week? This is the only one…” The voice spoke. “Hahaaaa. Ted, you need me. Memory. It’s not what it used to be. But I’ll be your guide. And I’ll help you get through the day. I’m with you now all the way. It’s just you and me, Ted.” Ted yelled. “Who the fuck is talking to me?” The call dropped. Again. “Honey, arghhh, nooo, argghh!” He called back. Continuous ring. “Fuckers.” He hurled the phone. This time it bounced off the armrest console and into an out-of-reach place in the back. Movement. The slither of cars gained a few feet, stopped, crept along again, then full stop. “I’m going to an interview. That is where I’m going.” The voice spoke. “No way. Been there, failed that. I would be more concerned with what’s in the boot.” “Shut up. Shut up.” Ted yelled as the traffic sped up. 20, 25, 30 mph. “Yes, yes.” He tapped away on the steering as the slither gained speed. Ahead, the criss-cross grid of a wide box junction. A steady speed kept its pace. Ted’s car whirred along. Until it stopped again. Shudder. Grumble. Rattle. Ted’s car sputtered and rumbled – then the engine cut off. He turned the key. No revs, continuous whines. The voice spoke. “It’s just not your day, is it? Or should I say ours since I’m stuck in this crap, too.” Car horns sounded off as angry drivers behind now were forced to change lanes. The slither of vehicles up front slowed as another jam built up ahead, worsened by Ted’s car blocking progression in his lane. Head buried in shaky hands, Ted chortled. He lifted a head which weighed like a sack of potatoes, and broke into a hysterical fit. Time to resign to the absurdity unfolding. “I can’t…can’t…win today.” Ahead, gridlock again. Cars and buses littered the box junction as any sign of movement returned to a distant dream. Ted took a deep breath. He opened the door and disembarked. “Hey, hey, oh no way, not you again.” The voice of the poor taxi driver yet again stuck behind Ted, his head poked out the window. “This is a joke. I’m being mugged off here.” Ted smiled back at him, a slow smile at first which grew into a beaming cheshire cat grin. “Sorry driver. I’m a beaten man, beaten by everything.” “You trying to leave your car again?” The taxi driver, rattled by Ted’s smirk, pointed a shaky, feisty finger at Ted. Ted continued to smile back. The voice spoke. “Ignore that prick. But do check the boot.” Ted’s gaze slid towards the boot. He pressed a button. Click. It flipped up a few inches. Ted opened it, oblivious to the taxi driver and the subsequent stream of traffic having to manoeuvre around Ted’s faulty car. And as he peered down at the bruised face of a trembling man tied and gagged there, a memory returned. He recalled how. Phil, friend and the boss who fired Ted and placed him in a world of shit, quivered and lay there. His breath bursting in and out. Phil’s white knuckles tried to pull on the rope that bound his arms and legs tight but were too weary and dry of energy after hours in an airless, muggy boot. There was a brief fight in him as whimpers found no exit; his pleads muffled by the gag. At that moment, Ted remembered. The madness, how it blinds his focus, how its darkened mist clouds memory. Those slices of inner darkness that go haywire. “Yes,” Ted apprised himself and gazed down at tortured Phil writhing. “The madness, me being my usual forgetful self, but phew, I’m back. I’m remembering.” Ted held an icy glare on poor Phil. “Now Phil, told you, no screams, no kicking. I will have to punch the shit out of you again, okay?” A malicious smirk grew as Ted wagged a finger. A bruised Phil glared up at his captor with muffled requests. “We got to talk. Somewhere. I have questions. And I’d best like your response. But stay aware. Try not to hate me much. Just business, remember, nothing personal. Just like you said.” Phil chewed on the gag as he tried to squeal on hearing those words spoken to Ted the day he axed him. Ted slammed the boot shut as Phil’s continued muffled cries for help failed to pass the gag. He returned to the driver’s seat. The congested lanes edged onwards and resumed a slow pace. He tried the ignition. The hum of the engine as it fired delivered pure elation. “Thanks car. Thanks for not leaving me here.” Ted sighed as he stared into deep-set eyes that glared back with a fresh confidence in the rear-view mirror. That period of memory loss had breezed on by. The voice spoke. “Remember now, we want to teach this guy a lesson. He didn’t see you coming as you stood there on his porch. Hah, hah. And you loved that first punch, and then as you punched the shit out of him till he lost consciousness. As he caused you pain. But we will teach him a lesson or two further if our demands are not met. Fire you! Fire YOU! He’d best regret that. Let’s drive off, see if we can get out of this jam. And find somewhere for some private time with…Phil.” “Yep,” Ted nodded at the mirror, “That’s the plan. Sorry, I get these mind blanks. Forgot in all this mess about why I’m here today. Forgot how important to me your voice really is. Wish I didn’t slip away like that.” The voice spoke. “I’ll always bring you back to reality, Ted.” “Do it. Shout my way if I suffer memory loss again. Can’t help it. Just don’t know when it will hit me. Sorry.” The voice spoke. “No problem, Ted. I’m your guide.” Ted’s chugging motor moved on. The gridlock eased to allow the traffic to progress. Ted relaxed. The rapture drew a smile. The day unwound at last. Credit: Stephen Crowley Facebook Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.