Bad Memories - Beginning

Another Twisted Short Tale - Chapter 1

A new twisted short story for my Morbid Ink Project (my paid subscribers get the first look at all my stories). The final chapter will publish a day or two later. The tale will also be available for subscribers to Medium in the near future.

You can find other stories on Morbid Ink here.

“Hell, would you open your mouth and talk? I’m going nuts and we’re way behind schedule.”

My passenger sighed.

“What do you want me to say?” Erik Ford asked.

“Hell, anything is better than listening to road noise for the last ninety miles,” I smirked. “I’ve been pushing this rig as fast as I can. Now, I can’t stand country music and I don’t know Spanish, so the damn radio is no good. And I can’t get into those audio books since we drop cell signal every time the story is getting good.”

I grinned to myself.

“Partner, since it’s our first route together, give me your life’s story or something.”

Erik looked at me with those sad brown eyes, then his attention went back to the road. While I didn’t know him well, I noticed his changing demeanor as we drove Route 5. It was a long, bumpy stretch of pothole filled highway. Also, few other vehicles traveled the route, especially after night fell. Ford’s normally reserved expression gradually turned gloomier since we left Havre.

We were on the long haul and had one more stop at Scobey, which we needed to get to before midnight when the store closed. Convenience stores always need their soda and other drinks. Because of our long routes, I drove a cab-over semitrailer which carried plenty of plastic bottles loaded with carbonated drinks. The trailer had side doors which allowed us easy access to the crates of two-liter bottles inside.

During the day, I noticed he was a good worker, hauling out the heavy loads on a dolly from the trailer without complaint. And he remained mostly silent even when I changed the order to accommodate our inventory. Yet, his growing agitation started bothering me as the day progressed. The guy sat bolt upright in the passenger seat. His eyes remained fixated on the road while he continued tapping one foot on the floorboard. The man’s expression looked almost as desolate as the open land around us. Still, Erik appeared to be looking for something in the wide-open Montana countryside.

“Well, I’m not a very pleasant person,” he finally stated. “Mr. Smith liked to listen to his music as he drove and always kept his headphones over his ears. I’ve been riding shotgun on these delivery routes for several years. I guess I got used to the quiet.”

Erik hesitated for a moment.

“And other things…”