Survivor: 1 (4 page)

"You motherfucker." Brad's foot was riding the brake.
His heart was pounding rapidly as his eyes darted from
the rearview mirror to the road ahead of him. Their
speed dropped gradually to seventy, then sixty. The van
receded slightly, then sped up and tailgated them again.
It was hard to see the driver through the tinted glass of his
windshield, but Brad already had a mental image of him:
Judging by the vehicle, he was probably another repressed, thirtysomething hothead with an ax to grind because Brad wasn't going fast enough to suit his needs. He
can fuck off as far as I'm concerned. Brad thought.

"What is this guy's problem?" Lisa wondered, craning
her neck to look out the rear window

"I don't know You have the cell phone with us?"

"Yeah. Think we should call the police?"

"I don't know. Let's see what he does first."

"Maybe we should pull over."

"Why? So he can pull up behind us and shoot us or
something?"

Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked
scared. Brad was scared himself. His mind retraced the
last few minutes frantically, trying to reconnect with
something that might explain why this guy was dogging
their every step. Had he cut anybody off? No. When he'd
passed the slow-moving car a few miles back, there
hadn't been anybody in the lane next to him at all, otherwise he wouldn't have made the move. But then the
guy had almost seemed to materialize out of nowhere
right after he made the lane change. He must have been
flying along at a hundred miles per hour, which would
explain why Brad wouldn't have seen him when he
checked his rear- and sideview mirrors. The guy had
been coming up so fast that he hadn't been in the mirrors when Brad checked, then he was there the minute
Brad made the lane change. Which means now the fuckhead behind the wheel was pissed off.

"Christ," Brad muttered, his knuckles white as his hands
gripped the steering wheel. "Just what I need is some enraged asshole on my tail because he feels slighted over
some stupid traffic dispute."

"He's pulling back," Lisa said.

Brad glanced in his rearview mirror. Sure enough, the
van had pulled back to a more respectable distance. The
afternoon sun glinted in the sky, reflecting off the van's
windshield. Brad released a long sigh and felt better. "As
long as he stays back there," he said.

They were silent for a moment as they reached the bottom of the hill and continued on, Interstate 5 stretching
out before them like a long, black snake. It was a three lane highway, bisected by a median strip of grass that
separated the north and southbound lanes. Traffic was
moderate. Brad kept the Lexus at a safe and legal sixtyfive and stayed in his lane. No sense trying to play speed
racer now. As long as they reached the hotel in one
piece, that was all that mattered.

Lisa turned the Blondie CD back on. Debbie Harry began singing about being an X Offender.

They were relaxed enough now to make small talk.
Lisa started talking about a transgression that had occurred at the office. Brad listened, wondering silently
how his wife put up with those incompetent assholes at
the law office. "So all they want to do is complain about
all the work they have-like nobody else does?-and
then they sit around and file their nails and gossip all
day, and then complain about all the work they have and
how they can never get anything done. George Brooks
doesn't even notice what's going on. He spends all day in
his office. And meanwhile, I'm trying to hold the department together, and Amy won't do anything to pare the
deadweight down, and-"

Brad was listening, but he was monitoring the traffic behind him. The van was still behind them at a good distance.
They were drawing dose to another slow-moving vehiclean old Ford piloted by a little old lady with blue hair and
thick spectacles, barely tall enough to peer over the dashboard. Brad signaled for a lane change, checked his mirrors, and swung into the next lane to pass the Ford. The van
changed lanes also, still a safe distance behind them.

He's changing lanes because he sees the Ford is crawling at a snail's pace. Brad thought. He tried to reassure
himself with this thought, but a small part of him suggested that wasn't so. That part suggested that the faceless driver of the van still had a burr up his ass and was
trying to be discreet about following them.

When Brad saw that he was at a comfortable distance
past the Ford, he signaled for another lane change and
merged back into the slow lane. The van did likewise, still
a respectable distance behind him.

"So I just don't know what to do anymore," Lisa was saying, looking out at the road ahead of them. "Sometimes I
wonder if l should just go directly to Debbie and-"

He listened. And he nodded and responded at the appropriate times. And he watched the road ahead of him
and monitored the van behind them. It stayed a good distance back, never retreating nor accelerating to catch up.

And every time Brad changed lanes to pass a slower vehicle, the van did likewise. After three times Brad began to
get an eerie feeling that the driver of the van hadn't forgotten the minor transgression fifteen minutes back. It
was a feeling that gnawed at him, creating a pit of unease
in his belly.

Lisa appeared not to notice what was going on. And I
won't say anything, Brad thought. It'll just freak her out.
Besides, it's probably just my imagination. I mean, why
would-

'The van suddenly sped up, closing the gap between
them. Brad expected it to tailgate him again, but it didn't.
It crept up to one car length away and then eased up,
widening the gap between them. Lisa, who had been
talking about work, noticed the change of expression on
Brad's face as the van accelerated, and glanced in her
sideview mirror. "What the hell is he doing now?"

"1 don't know. But he's been following us the whole
way."

"Are you serious?" Lisa watched the van out of her sideview mirror.

"Yeah. Every time we change lanes, he does the same
thing. I almost get the feeling he's ... well ... stalking us."

"Why don't we pull over?" Lisa said, turning to Brad
now with a scared expression. "Let's just get off at the
next exit, pull into a gas station or something, and call
the police."

"What for? The guy hasn't actually done anything"

Lisa looked like she was at a loss for words. "Well, at
least we could see if he pulls off the road, too. It's better
than nothing."

Brad nodded, eyes on the road, glancing back at the
van behind them. For the past twenty minutes or so, the
van had kept a safe distance behind them, never out of
their sight even when other cars were in front of it. That
was what worried him.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing. I mean, it's not
like 1-"

"'There's a cop up ahead"

Brad looked. Parked in the grassy median between the
north and south lanes was a California Highway Patrol
car, as if the officer was laying a speed trap. Brad selfconsciously checked his speed-he was well within the
speed limit-,and then they were zooming past the police car. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror just in
time to see the patrol car pull into the highway behind
them. It's just a coincidence, Brad thought. Surely he can't
be lying in wait for us-

Flashing blue and red lights danced along the dome
on top of the patrol car as it tailed them, the twin beams
of its headlights flashing. The officer activated the siren
briefly. Brad felt a stab of fear in the pit of his belly. Why is
he pulling me over? I'm not speeding. I'm-

"I don't believe this," Lisa said, glancing back behind
her shoulder.

"1 don't either," Brad said, as he signaled and merged
to the right-hand shoulder and stopped.

He looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the patrol car had moved in behind him and was now parked,
its lights still flashing. But that wasn't what made the pit
of ice in his belly stab into him harder.

It was the van that pulled up behind the patrol car and
parked behind it that sent his nerves twitching.

"Oh my God," Lisa said, her voice hollow. She looked
at Brad, and her blue eyes were wide and scared-looking.
"What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," Brad said, keeping his hands on the
steering wheel. He watched in the rearview mirror as the
officer approached the passenger side of the car. Lisa
rolled down the window.

The patrol officer was thin, in his mid-thirties, with
thin, angular features, brown hair, and a mustache. Dark
sunglasses hid his eyes. He leaned down and looked at
Brad. "Can I see your license and registration, please?"

"Yeah, sure." Brad fumbled for his wallet, got the identification out, and handed it over. The officer glanced at
them, then looked back at him. "Got a call that you were
doing some reckless driving back there. Speeding up real
fast, then braking suddenly, swerving all over the road,
trying to cause accidents."

Lisa looked over at Brad, confused, then back at the
officer. "You must be mistaken, officer. We weren't doing
anything like that."

"I didn't say you, ma'am. I meant him." He motioned to
Brad, his voice taking on a tone of condescending.

"I haven't been doing anything like that," Brad said. He
could feel his hands shaking. His voice, when he spoke, was
thick and guttural. He had never felt so nervous in his life.

"I don't really care what you say," the officer said. "The
person that called it in saw it and requested a citizen's
arrest."

Lisa's features went pale. Brad couldn't believe what
was happening. "There's some mistake," he heard himself
saying. "I wasn't driving the way you said I was. I was going the speed limit, I was-"

"Save it," the cop said. "The person that reported it saw
it and wants to make a citizen's arrest. I'm going to run
your ID, then I'm going to go back to the person that
made the complaint to confirm that you're the person he
saw committing the violation. When he called it in he
sped up to get your license plate number, so I'm sure
identification won't be a problem. When that's done, I'll
place you in custody-"

Place me in custody? Brad's heartbeat slammed harder.

"... then, depending on what time it is, we'll see if we
can get you before the judge to arrange bail and
then . . "The cop looked at his wristwatch and shook his
head. "Nope. It's a little after four o'clock. Courthouse is
already closed. Anyway, it looks like you'll be in custody
till Monday morning, when the courthouse opens again
and bail can be arranged."

"Tis is bullshit!" Lisa's voice took on a high-pitched
shrill. "We weren't doing anything! That guy-"

"Shut up," the cop said casually. "I don't really care one
way or the other. It's your word against his, and he witnessed it. Wait here while I call this in and have a talk with
him." Without another word, the officer walked back to
his car.

Brad watched him go, feeling light-headed and dazed.
He had never been in trouble with the law before, had
never been guilty of anything except a parking ticket. For
a moment he forgot his knowledge of California criminal
law from law school. He was in private practice in family
law, and hadn't been keeping up on criminal law much
since getting his law degree. Surely this had to be some kind of mistake. His heart hammered in his chest as he
watched the cop go back to his squad car and slide behind the wheel.

Lisa turned to Brad as he watched the cop type his information on the computer in his car. "'this is fucking
bullshit! That asshole is just trying to fuck with us. We
should be the one calling the cops on his ass to make a
citizen's arrest!" Lisa had turned from a confused, scared
woman to a woman with seething, righteous anger.
When Lisa got angry, she got explosive and cursed like a
sailor. And when she got explosive, you didn't want to be
around her.

"1 didn't do anything," Brad said, still in a daze. "1-1-"
He didn't know what to say.

"No shit, we didn't do anything." Lisa fumed. "And
when that asshole cop comes back, I'm going to demand
a citizen's arrest on that asshole in the van."

Hearing the venom in Lisa's voice injected some in
Brad's own system, although now that he was thinking
about it he realized that Lisa wouldn't be able to do that.
It was all coming to him now: To assist in a citizen's arrest, the officer had to confirm that the violation in question was a felony punishable by at least a year in jail. If
the guy was claiming speeding and reckless driving with
intent to cause bodily injury, that would be enough for
the officer to place him in custody. Lisa couldn't do a
damn thing except represent him in court Monday. His
stomach still churned, but he felt a sudden burst of
adrenaline. "Let's see what that guy tells him," he said,
watching the cop in his rearview mirror and the van
parked behind it, its windshield a solid black screen.

"You're not going to jail," Lisa said, watching the scene
from her side mirror. "I'm going to tell him I want to place
a citizen's arrest myself. The guy in the van was stalking us and tailgating us. If that asshole wants to play at this
game, that's just fine with me."

Brad's mind was racing. Worst-case scenario, maybe
Lisa could contact a local judge over the weekend, get
him to look at the case. Maybe we can get this dismissed
by tonight. Yeah, that's the ticket-

"He's going to talk to the guy in the van now," Lisa said,
watching from the sideview mirror. Brad watched from
the rearview mirror. The cop stood at the passenger side
of the van as he talked to the guy, who was still hard to
make out due to the dark windshield. They were silent as
they watched the conversation take place. What is he
telling him? Brad wondered. What are they discussing?
The few minutes that the cop spent talking to the faceless
driver in the van felt like five hours.