There are those certain kinds of people who have got some kind of story to tell. There are those certain professions where folks come nosing around for a tall tale or two. They never seem to get enough, no matter how many times I spin my yarns. Who can blame them? It just so happens that I’m happy to oblige as I haul ass through the wide-open roads of the glorious U.S. of A.

I’ve heard them all: ‘What’s the strangest thing you ever hauled?’ or ‘Ever pick up any weirdos?’ It’s not like I mind these questions in particular. I’m an open book, more or less. But it gets a little repetitive, you know? Sometimes, if I wasn’t careful, I would find myself giving these nosy hitchhikers a look—a troubling, nasty glare. That was enough to make people slink into uncomfortable silence. I did feel a little bad, though. That’s why I eventually tried to make the best of it. In fact, it became a new pastime of mine.

I became known for all the wild and fanciful tales I would tell my traveling companions. Truth be told, most of the stories I just took from other people. Everything else? Pure imagination. No truth whatsoever. It’s easier than you think.

Once, I met this younger guy in my travels and naturally he asked me to tell him a story. So I pull an old favorite out. I’m sure you know about that old Hookman at lover’s lane. You know, a couple parks in hopes of a little romantic action when a radio broadcast warns them of an escaped psychiatric patient. After a few strange sounds and a bit of bickering, the boyfriend drives his lady home, only to find a rusted old hook hanging from the car handle.

The young man wasn’t impressed at first. Especially when I told him that I was the boy in that story. I told him that I had an old picture somewhere of a deep scratch going down the length of my car where the Hookman had been lurking. He was really skeptical, until I pulled out the famous hook and shook it at him.

I watched that young man’s face turn white as a sheet. It was hard to keep a straight face. He demanded that I let him out right then and there, despite being in the middle of nowhere. I laughed for miles after that. Even in my college days, I was a bit of a prankster. Nearly everyone in the dorm became the punchline at some point. Some of the guys even called me “Brom.” I always liked that old story. If I could ever meet that headless specter, I think I’d like to shake his hand.

But there was this guy, James Baldwin. A quote of his stuck with me, even after all these years:

“People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it very simply; by the lives they lead.”

I sometimes pondered these words, wondering if my lies would catch up to me, to the point where they might match the speed of my truck. A nagging voice in my head said there’s an order to things. The universe likes to keep itself in check once in a while. I don’t know if I believe in karma, but something strange happened to me once. And I mean it REALLY happened. But I suppose I can’t expect you to believe me.

I hate to repeat myself, but what happened was really strange. It might just be the campfire story to top all of them. It wasn’t a ghost, a killer in the backseat, or anything like that. At least those things make a little sense. I’m still not sure how to describe what I experienced. I wasn’t in danger, at least I didn’t appear to be. It was more like my heart felt heavy and a thick fog clouded my brain.

My strange tale began in early fall, just as the leaves were beginning to turn. A warehouse employee was helping me close up my truck. I don’t remember what the shipment was, but I couldn’t care less. The pay is what’s important. I drive. Point A to point B. That’s what I do. I climbed into the cab and scratched Benny’s head. He watched me with his big eyes, panting without a care in the world. Benny was my faithful right-hand man. My golden hound companion. Some days I was glad he couldn’t talk. It’s nice to have a friend that just likes being there with you. As I got myself situated inside the cab, Benny perked up and nuzzled his kind-looking face into me with all the love a dog could give his owner.

I turned the key and listened to the engine spring to life. Benny let out an excited yelp as I pressed my foot against the pedal. In this part of the country, there are long stretches of flat land that don’t have a whole lot on them except farmland.

They’re soothing roads in their own right. But every now and then, something about them felt off. I could never put my finger on it. It just felt off.

Maybe I wasn’t as familiar with these roads as I thought. Or maybe the long hours are starting to get to me. Again, nothing was immediately wrong. It was just a feeling.

For a brief second, I took a look at Benny from the corner of my eye. Surprisingly, he was calm. He caught me looking at him and started to wag his tail, which whacked my arm several times over. Perhaps I was just being foolish. I straightened my posture and tried talking to myself.

“Now Vic, stop messing around and keep your attention on delivering those goods!”

“Yes, sir!” I replied.

Benny barked in response.

I adjusted my mirror and made sure my hands were firmly on nine and three. I took a small, careful sip of my coffee as I tried to push the growing paranoia to the farthest reaches of my mind.

Eventually, the farmlands came to an end as the road went straight into a dimly lit forest. Even my headlights were barely enough to see the road ahead of me. My visibility was limited to a mere few feet in front of me. Had it been night for long? I couldn’t remember. It was almost like driving through a void. It felt like if I got out I might be torn to pieces by the vacuum of space.

I flipped the radio on to try and calm my nerves. It hadn’t been working right lately, but I decided to test my luck anyway. A light came on, but no connection. Only the hiss of static. Whether it was the busted radio or lack of signal, I was out of luck either way. I grunted in disappointment as my hands returned to the wheel. In the stillness of that void, I sat there in complete silence. I wasn’t sure how far we had traveled. There didn’t seem to be any road signs out here. Nothing but the cluster of pines closing in on either side of me.

In the midst of his nap, Benny’s ears suddenly perked up. He sat up in his seat and began clawing at the window.

“What is it, Benny? Do you have to go? Should I pull over?” I asked him, petting his scruffy head. Benny continued to pace, paying little attention to me.

“Well, all right then. Just give me a second.” I pulled over to the side of the surprisingly narrow road. Once the truck shut down, I was enveloped by the pitch-black night. I grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment and switched it on.

I jumped out of the cab and walked over to the opposite side to where Benny was sitting and opened the door. Faster than I could blink, Benny leapt out of the truck and darted toward the tree line. I had never seen him jump this far. Needless to say, this was not my night.

It didn’t seem like Benny needed to relieve himself. There was something else, but I couldn’t see what it was. It was like he was chasing after nothing at all.

“Come on, Benny. I don’t have time for this. If I’m not there by morning…”

It’s no use trying to reason with a dog.

I chased Benny into the ever-darkening woods, seeing only a faint silhouette of my dog, always just out of reach. The pine trees towered over me. The lower branches grazed me as I sprinted through the forest as if to taunt me. For what felt like about fifteen minutes I searched those woods for Benny, but then I decided to head back to the truck, thinking that he had his fill of playing with me. However, this was easier said than done. I had been so focused on chasing Benny that I lost track of exactly where I was. Everything seemed different than it had just a few minutes ago. I was sure that I was walking in the opposite direction that I came in. At least I wanted to believe I was sure. Somehow, the trees felt unfamiliar. I couldn’t tell if I was walking in the wrong direction or if the trees were in the wrong spot. What was I thinking? Trees can’t move. Can they?

I wasn’t sure how long I was in those woods. Maybe an hour, maybe a mere few minutes. In this exact moment, anything was believable. At a certain point, I was exhausted from running and I resorted to a slow trudge through the woods.

Having basically no other options, I simply turned myself in the opposite direction and hoped that would get me back to the road.

By some miracle I eventually managed to make it back to my truck. The passenger seat was wide open like I had left it. Inside, Benny was happily panting like nothing had ever happened. I checked him for injuries or anything out of the ordinary, but he was completely fine. I slammed the passenger door shut and got back into the cab.

Without thinking, my hand instinctively turned on the radio. Remembering my lack of luck I reached for the switch again to turn it off. I expected static, but I was met with something else: voices. They were quiet, but I could just barely make out the distinct rhythm of conversation coming in from the airwaves.

I turned the volume up, but the voices were slightly distorted. So, I fiddled with the dial until I finally landed on 102.5. The voices came in clearly now.

“Hey Bill.” A gruff voice said.

It seemed like I had just caught the beginning of some program.

“Yes Marty?” This voice was a bit softer than the other.

“Why don’t you tell the good people at home what our topic for the day is? I’m sure that they’re dying to know!”

“Sure thing, Marty. Today’s topic is the hit British sensation born out of the sixties, The Jitterbugs!”

The Jitterbugs, yeah, those four guys. As classic as it gets. They were a band that everybody loved back in the day. Hell, music wouldn’t be what it is today without them. I was never into that poppy stuff much myself. When it came to rock, I liked it hard.

“These four guys really paved the way for music as we know it today. That’s why we’re paying them the highest respect today by looking at their legendary 1975 release, Days Behind Us.”

“Oh man, I’m telling you Bill, what an album. Seriously, one of the best things they ever did. It had that classic Jitterbugs sound, but with the twist of a psychedelic groove. They could easily be compared to The Doors, no doubt about it.”

“That’s right, their sound in that album was like nothing they’d ever done before, or since. This was right after things were patched up between the band members. And out of that came music which has stood the test of time and hopefully will continue to do so forevermore.”

It did not occur to me at first, but there was something off about this radio show. Days Behind Us? Why had I never heard of that album? I may not be the biggest Jitterbugs fan, but I liked their stuff well enough that I think I would recognize the name of the album if heard it. It could be a compilation album. But then why would they hype up a greatest hits release?

Also, did they say that it was released in 1975? The Jitterbugs broke up after a falling out around 1970.

Sure they were all still making music, just not together. At this point I was listening intently, my ears were doing all the work while the rest of my body was on autopilot. Surely they had made a mistake. Although, was getting a name and date completely wrong such a small mistake? Maybe this was some kind of practical joke. They could be seeing if people are really paying attention. Alright, you have my attention. So, tell me you were kidding, okay?

“I agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment, Bill. You know what? Instead of yapping about this stuff, how about we let the listeners at home have a listen for themselves?”

“Sure thing Marty! Coming up now, folks, is The Jitterbugs’ hit song Speaking Without Saying from Days Behind Us. And when we return, we have a very special guest in the studio.”

They were really taking this prank to a new level. Playing a song that doesn’t exist? I mean, come on. It’s ridiculous.

But sure enough, something did come in through the speaker. I felt like I had been drained of all my color. I looked down at my hand, which seemed to be pastier than it had been just a moment ago.

The song itself wasn’t terrifying. As a matter of fact, it was a catchy rock tune with a jazz-like groove. I had never heard this song in my life, but at the same time it felt so damn familiar.

I thought that it might be a tribute band at first, but the problem was that it sounded exactly like The Jitterbugs. From the vocals to the instrumentation to the mixing, it was unmistakable. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. It was them. The hairs on my arms standing up on end, yet I couldn’t bring myself to turn off the radio. I had come this far and I couldn’t turn back now.

After a few minutes, the song came to an end.

“How about that folks? Some really wonderful stuff there, and we also have a really wonderful guest here with us this evening. It’s the main vocalist for The Jitterbugs, Leonard Diamond! Say hi to the good people at home, won’t you Leonard.”

“Ah, yes, hello everyone. I am very pleased to be here this evening, Bill and Marty. You know, I am touched that you would have me on your show. Hearing the love for our music makes it all worthwhile. As you already know, the other guys and I almost split up back in the day, though I am rather glad that– ”

I shut the radio off. It was Leonard. No doubt.

If this was a prank, it was in poor taste. Leonard Diamond died back in 1980. I clearly remember it all. The break up. The death. It was all in the headlines. Were my ears deceiving me, or was everything else a deception up until now?

I was in a catatonic limbo of speechless surrender. Even now, I struggle to say much because I can’t comprehend what happened. So I decided to not even try. I looked over at Benny, who had been sleeping the whole time. A heavy quiet hung in the air for the rest of the ride.

Where was I? Had I fallen through the cracks of reason somewhere along the way?

The dawn eventually broke through the disquieting night. I made my delivery on time. In fact, I was even a bit early. I saw a fellow trucker in the loading zone who I would sometimes run into.

“Hey Mac, how’s it going man?”

“Eh, can’t complain.”

“Say, you know The Jitterbugs, don’t you?”

“Sure. Who doesn’t? Why’re you asking?”

“Well…it might sound silly…do you remember them breaking up in the early seventies?”

End