White Pickups

Henry had been driving on eastbound I-70 for four hours when he hit gridlock just outside of Vail. It was the third standstill since leaving Grand Junction. “Shit! Not again.” Henry pounded his palms on the steering wheel, causing them to throb with pain.

Henry envisioned a rich Vail soccer mom in an over-sized SUV up ahead, crashed into a few innocent drivers. “Fucking rich bitches ought to have their licenses taken away!” Adding to his irritation, he imagined she had hit them while talking on a cell phone and gawking at her three carat diamond ring.

Henry was driving back to Denver after he had failed, for the third time, to secure needed signatures on an important leasing contract. That morning, before leaving Grand Junction, Henry broke the news of the third failure to his boss.Henry’s boss fired him.

Traffic inched forward. Henry cautiously accelerated, before slamming back down on the brake. His body jutted forward and his heart raced. Traffic screeched to a halt, but not before a huge white pickup truck had veered in front of Henry’s compact blue sedan. The front end of his car nearly sideswiped the pickup now hogging two lanes.

“Fucking cock sucking!” Henry held down the horn and shook his fist at the driver of the pickup. The driver responded with an upturned middle finger.

Henry gritted his teeth and squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He had no choice but to allow the pickup to force its way into his lane. The brash driver celebrated his victory with a second display of his middle finger, while his body bounced and jerked with laughter.

“Bastard,” Henry sneered. They’re all selfish. In his mind he listed his boss, the Vail soccer mom, the driver of the pickup, everyone. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. The word formed a repeated pattern in Henry’s thoughts and clouded the sounds of gridlock surrounding him.

Henry mistakenly shifted his car into reverse and forced the gas pedal to the floor. The car raced backward only a few feet before it collided with a vehicle--ironically another large white pickup truck--stopped behind him. Henry’s neck jerked and whipped, and his head smashed into the steering wheel, inflating his anger. A crazed Henry forced his car into drive, and again floored the gas pedal, causing his car to plow full tilt into the back of the white pickup that had forced its way into his lane. “Now who’s laughing asshole?”

A blaring horn behind Henry and a tingling on his left brow shifted Henry’s attention back to reality. He wiped his brow, and a smear of bright red blood covered the back of his hand. Oh God. What have I done?

The driver in front of Henry turned around to identify what had hit him and recognized Henry’s car. He reached under his seat and pulled out a hammer, then got out of his truck.

Henry panicked when he saw the approaching driver brandishing the weapon. “Shit!” Henry scrambled for the door lock, as if locked doors would save him from the man and his hammer. As he pressed the lock, his eyes met the raging glare of a passenger in a third white pickup truck outside his driver’s side window. The man shook his fist, and Henry’s eyes widened.

Henry heard cursing and he turned just in time to see the hammer smash down on his windshield. Glass shattered down onto Henry’s lap. The man cursed again and swung back the hammer. Bracing himself for the next blow, Henry shielded his face with his shaking hands. With the second blow, the head of the hammer came through the windshield and collided with Henry’s hand. A sharp girlish shriek escaped from Henry’s throat. His knuckle was shattered.

The driver of the pickup behind Henry, a Herculean sized man wearing a wife beater t-shirt, joined the man with the hammer. “What the fuck’s your problem?” asked the man. “Get out of the car or I’ll drag you through the fucking windshield!”

Henry froze and his heart was palpitating with terror. Then he began whimpering when he saw two equally large sized men from the pickup beside him approached the chaos.

“Need some help?” asked one of the men.

“Yeah!”

“This joker rammed our trucks.”

“Yeah, we saw.”

“Guess he thinks everyone should stay out of his way.” The man with the hammer waved it to remind Henry of his troubles. Henry cringed in his seat.

“When will they learn to just get the hell out of our way?”

“He’s about to learn now.”

“Okay. Let’s get him off the road.”

Fearing his next lesson, Henry peered to his right at a three foot median and a guard rail. He could only imagine the size of the drop off. Maybe they’re just trying to scare me out of the car.

Suddenly he felt the car rock, then tilt onto it’s side. Strapped in by his seat belt, Henry hung sideways screaming, “stop!” The men ignored his plea. Wielding the strength of a forklift, the men grunted as they leveraged Henry’s car up onto the guardrail.

As the car teetered upside down on the guardrail, Henry decided his only hope was to get out of the car. He groped for the button to release the seat belt, but was too late. The men heaved one last time, and the car dropped over the side.

There were no last words from Henry. Only screams that no one could hear.

***

The four men regrouped and shook hands before they returned to their trucks.

After a few minutes traffic crept forward. A quarter of a mile down the road, the men drove by a state patrolman handing a ticket to a sharp dressed woman talking on a cell phone. Her over-sized SUV was secured to a tow truck.