Road Rage
by Ken Beattie

Cal cruised the streets seeking a victim, a target upon whom to vent his anger. As he automatically guided his battered maroon charger through the light early evening traffic Cal's mind seethed. Tension made his shoulders ache and transformed his forearms into bands of steel as he choked the life out of his steering wheel. In his minds eye the fake leather became the smooth tanned flesh of Rebecca's neck. 
It was always the same when Cal and Becca fought. He'd do something trivial and she'd blow the matter out of all proportion. Becca's tongue, capable of such exquisite pleasure could easily become a vicious scourge. Her vitriolic comments never failed to pierce Cal to the core. Cal loved Becca and he thought she loved him. Yet she could inflict such pain with her words and her manner. It was something that Cal was simply unable to reconcile. There was no way he could hurt Becca, it just wasn't in him. He had to get rid of the tension though. It was burning his guts, eating his mind, shredding his soul. He had to do something to ease the pain, the tension, that was why he cruised. 
Tiny sparks of pain flickered in Cal's jaw and he realised with a start that he been grinding his teeth together with enamel splintering force. He had to find someone soon. So far he'd had no luck and he'd been out for more than two hours. The few people he'd baited had steadfastly ignored his overtures, immediately, turning onto a side street or braking hard and crawling at thirty or forty kilometers an hour. He kept trying the lure though. Sooner or later someone would bite. 
Not just random chance dictated Cal's actions. He had a code of ethics. A code he wouldn't break. After all he was a law abiding citizen, at least in his own mind. There was no possible way Cal could attack someone else and there was definately no way he'd attack a woman. But a man has a right to defend himself! When a man is threatened the law favours him and he can do what he likes to the threatener. He can do what it takes to relieve the tension. All he had to do now was find someone who'd strike first... 
The single lane road gave way to double lanes, two in each direction separated by a median strip. Cal ambled along in the slow lane a hundred metres or so behind a psychadelically painted Volkswagon van. There was no one in the fast lane and only occassionally did another car pass in the opposite direction. In an effort to distract himself Cal glanced at the buildings lining the road. He was in the suburbs somewhere, nowhere. Tidy houses fronted by tidy lawns with knee high brick fences guarded the road, hemming it in on both sides. The bitumen stretched away before him, vanishing then reappearing in the sodium glare of the next street light. Cal couldn't say where he was or for that matter how he'd got there. Not that it mattered, he'd find his way home eventually. 
A splinter of light from his mirror momentarily startled Cal. In the distance a car was approaching with it's lights on high beam. It was coming fast too. A vicious grin creased Cal's face at the thought of what he could do, what he would do. He watched the car grow in the mirror. It was a small Japanese car, a fastback he thought. One of those stupid crosses between a sports car and a wagon. Good, even more reason for him to hate the driver. A Mazda. It was a Mazda! God he hated Mazda drivers, nearly as much as Volvo drivers. But he hated Volvo's for another reason - they never bit, and they deserved it the most. The bastards! 
The Mazda was looming large in Cal's mirror when it finally swung into the overtaking lane. Instantly Cal heaved on the wheel, throwing the heavy Charger across in front of the speeding Mazda. Smoke peeled of the Mazda's tyres as it's driver braked desperately, fighting to avoid the Charger. The gap between the two cars narrowed to the point Cal could see the fear in the man's eyes in the mirror. Only inches must have separated the cars. The Mazda slowed further and swiftly dropped back from the Charger. Cal swore as the Mazda swung back into the slow lane and then stopped completely at the side of the road. 
"Fuckin' loser! Fuck! Isn't there anyone with balls around tonight. Someone's gotta want to dance. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!". 
Cal punched the passenger seat in fury. He'd once hit the steering wheel in his anger and broken two of his knuckles. He wouldn't do that again. He hit the seat again and the length of high density plastic that rested there bounced off onto the floor. Cal screamed incoherently, his anger overwhelming him. Trying to keep his eyes on the road Cal reached down for the stick - his Uleby Stick. It wasn't there. Groping blindly Cal brushed it with his fingertips. Brushed it and knocked it out of reach. 
"FUCK! YOU GODDAMN MOTHER-FUCKIN' SON OF A BITCH! COME HERE FUCK YOU!" 
Cal glanced down, the stick wasn't in sight. It must have rolled up under the seat. He reached further across, leaning his head below the dashboard, arm fully extended. Something sharp grazed one of his knuckles, doing wonders for Cal's already steaming temper. Finally, he grasped the length of plastic, voicing a sharp cry of triumph and straightening up. As he straightened his gaze returned to the road and he realised there was a car in the slow lane and that he'd drifted out of the fast lane. 
The two vehicles came together with a resounding crunch. There was no squealing of tyres, no scream of terror, no rending of metal, just a loud crunch. Cal's head snapped forward, bouncing his chin off the steering wheel. His mouth snapped shut driving his teeth into his tongue. His knees flew upwards at the impact bashing against the underside of his dash. The cars separated, the car - a limo Cal realised, pulling to the side of the road. Cal parked behind it, bleeding from his bitten tongue, furious at the accident, yet elated at the same time. No more searching, he'd found his victim, even if it wasn't how he normally did it. He just hoped the driver was a man and not a woman. It was a limo - it had to be a man driving didn't it? 
Uleby stick still clenched firmly in one hand Cal wiped his chin, smearing blood all the way to his forehead in a grotesque mask. With precise, determined actions he released his seatbelt, opened the door and approached the limo. It was black, of course. Where did people get off driving such a dark car at night. No one could see them. They were a danger to other motorists. They were practically trying to kill other people on the roads. They deserved punishment. Serious punishment. The length of high density plastic Cal had christened his Uleby stick smacked against Cal's thigh in time to his stride. 
The rear window of the limo was open and a wrinkled face peered out as Cal approached. He wouldn't beat the old man, just his driver. Beating the old man would be wrong, he was after all just a passenger. Still the old man deserved a scare and a lesson in safe driving. Eying the darkly tanned face and stringy grey hair 
"What the fuck do you think you were doing?" 
"I beg your parden.", the old man seemed genuinely taken aback. Not frightened, not yet, just surprised. 
"You heard me! Why the fuck did you run into me! You must have seen me there. And you just kept going so slow." 
"I do believe you struck us. We were driving quite safely in the slow lane and you changed lanes without looking. Isn't that so driver?" Cal glimpsed the back of the drivers head, it was covered by a chauffers cap and a high collared coat. The head bobbed up and down as if in agreement. No words were spoken but the driver obviously agreed. 
"Right. I guess I'll have to have a talk to that fuckin' idiot you call a driver." 
"I wouldn't advise that if I was you. In fact, I'd suggest you just get back in your vehicle and depart the scene of this little accident and forget about the whole thing. I'm sure your vehicle isn't too seriously damaged." 
Cal barked a short brutal laugh, "Mate! I wouldn't normally do this but after I'm finished with your driver you're gunna get a lesson too. And just in case you think your driver's tough, that's what this is for." Cal struck the drivers window with his Uleby stick, shattering the glass inwards. "It's called a Uleby stick, and you'll be fucked when I hit you with it." 
Cal reached through the vacant window grasping the collar of the driver. It didn't even occur to him that the man hadn't flinched away from the explosion of glass. Cal heaved on the man's coat and it tore in his hand, the cap fell away in the same moment. Cal blanched as the driver was revealed. It wasn't a man. It wasn't even human! A dark amorphous blob formed it's head. Eye's floated within the dark gelatinous substance, moving seemingly at random across it's face. A gaping maw opening in that shapeless head and Cal fell backwards into the road, scrabbling away from the limo. 
Raucous, coughing laughter echoed from the back seat of the vehicle. "My driver's not human as I'm sure you've realised. It is in fact a creature called a Shoggoth. It's a very young one and quite small. It's less than a thousand years old.". Cal stumbled to his feet as the drivers door opened. A quick glance at the old man revealed a further horror, the wattles on his neck were pulsing, not like aged flesh, more like... Cal's mind hitched... gills. The old man continued his face breaking into an impossibly wide smile, "I'm afraid Shogoths as a rule aren't very intelligent. It's quite an achievement teaching one to drive, even as poorly as this one does. One thing Shoggoths are very good at though is dealing with troublesome people. Deal with this annoying man please." 
The Shoggoth uncoiled from the front seat of the limo, expanding and bursting the coat into rags of cloth as it grew and twisted. Cal didn't stay to watch the myriad mouths open and slaver, or see the multitude of eyes whirling about in the creatures free-flowing flesh. He didn't see the tentacles, claws, arms and other less identifiable appendages emerge and submerge from the bulk of the creature as he fled for his Charger. 
Literally whimpering in fear, Cal ripped the door of the Charger open and jammed the key in the ignition. It fired immediately. Cal didnt't even pause to voice a prayer of thanks, he simply floored the accelerator. The Charger leapt forward toward the now eight foot tall mass of dark, pulsating flesh that flowed towards it. Cal shrieked and whipped the steering wheel hard to the right in an effort to dodge the monstrosity. He succeeded, almost. A hooked, serrated appendage snaked out at the car and latched on and into the back quarter panel. Metal tore and screamed as though in pain. Cal echoed the scream with his own. Then the car burst free of the creatures grasp and the Shoggoth was left swaying and throbbing obscenely, clutching the rear fender of Cal's Charger. 
Cal had no recollection of the hour or so that followed his encounter. He drove, still screaming as fast as his car would go. eventually, the Charger ran out of fuel and coasted to a stop. Cal's body shut down, joining his mind which had done so long before. He awoke to a sterile grey environment and a throbbing headache. His tongue burned and when he touched it he realised the bite had been stitched up. With a pained groan he rose and glanced about. Bars? Why bars? The realisation struck him. He was in jail. He began to curse, calling for the guard. 
After several minutes a door at the far end of the cells opened and a guard entered. "What's your problem?" 
"Where am I? Why am I here? What happened to the monster, the monsters?", the words tumbled out without conscious thought. 
"You're in jail. You're here because you match the description of a hit and run suspect, and as if that wasn't enough, you've been babbling about monsters for the last three hours." 
"But there are monsters! That's what I hit. That's what I was trying to get away from! You've gotta let me out. I didn't do anything wrong. It was the monster, and, and, it's master. It's master was a monster too." 
"You're not going to get off with any insanity plea buddy. Just be quiet and go to sleep.", the guard paused, "Hell, yell your head off if you like. There's no other prisoners for you to piss off and me, well, I'll just turn the microphone off. Heck, no monsters could get you here anyway.". The guard turned and left, slamming the door behind him. 
"Yeah that's right, no monster can get me here. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe.", Cal's chant of "I'm safe. I'm safe." gradually slurred into incoherent noise as he fell into a weary, pain haunted sleep. In his mind fitful images flashed. Rebecca laughing, holding him, kissing him, slapping him, cursing him. Cal thrashed in his sleep. Becca's face leered at him. Foul curses poured from her lips and he cringed away. In his sterile white office before a video monitor and speaker the guard sighed, "This lunatic was probably going to get off. It was pretty obvious, even to an idiot that the man was mad. Why do I get the nutters." He shook his head and spun his chair around, placing his feet up on the filing cabinet beside his desk. At least now he could watch the TV rather than the psycho in the cell. 
In the cell Cal thrashed. He didn't see the darkness that gradually obscured the small reinforced window to his cell. Deep within his dreams Cal cowered before Rebecca's foul invectives. When her beautiful features dissolved into a dark amorphous mass his heart nearly stopped. Her features multiplied. Suddenly, she had eight eyes, a dozen, twenty. With hands that were becoming pseudopods Becca pulled down her dress revealing the gorgeous full breasts Cal remembered so fondly. Then the nipples split, becoming ragged mouths filled with rows of serated teeth. Tongues came out of the gaping mouths twining and reforming into grasping, clinging tentacles. Rebecca reached for Cal... 
A thump on his blanket wrapped legs woke Cal from his dreams of oily black creatures with no faces but far too many mouths. Puzzled and half conscious Cal groped blindly at the object on the blanket. It was broken glass. Glass from the window above his bed. He looked up just in time to see an amorphous black thing pour through the open window. 
True to his word the guard turned off the microphone after the first scream from Cal. He didn't hear the screams and the tearing, rending sounds that lasted several minutes before being abruptly cut off. Nor did he hear the gurgling, slithering noises that faded quietly into the night, followed by the sound of a powerful motor being started and driven away.