"You don't believe me do you?" As Mike spoke, his grin grew with every passing second.
"Of course not! Why would I? There's absolutely no proof in what you're saying," Sheryl replied, her smile growing in proportion with his.
"Does there need to be?"
"Absolutely."
"That's it?"
"That's it. Call me the skeptic." Sheryl spoke with a tone of finality. Mike watched her and his smile faded as his eyes moved down to stare at the silver cross hanging from her neck.
"What about that?" he asked.
"What?" Sheryl responded.
"You believe in God don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"Ever seen him?"
"No."
"Then how do you know he exists?"
"That's different."
"Is it?"
"Yes. God is a certainty."
"You know the Bible says blessed are those who believe, but have not seen."
"That's referring to God, not what you're talking about."
"I know, but some things are believable even without seeing them."
"Prove it," Sheryl said. Mike pulled away from her, slouched against the driver seat and tapped the steering wheel.
"Okay, I will." He slid his fingers around the key in the ignition and fired up the truck's engine.
*
Sheryl winced, thinking about her conversation with Mike. An hour had passed and she now found herself climbing back into his truck after having gotten out for a moment at Mike's request. As she took a seat inside the truck again, Sheryl felt uneasiness beginning to grow. Together they'd driven across town, and she'd watched as the houses grew smaller and bars began to appear on the windows. Faded leaves littered the lawns, discarded by the autumn breeze while old cars, some missing wheels, sat with their rusted carcasses parked up against the curb. There were no street lamps and the houses around them were completely dark. The moon provided the only source of light, casting a pale glow.
Sheryl's thoughts came back to the present as she realized Mike was now shifting the truck out of park and back into drive. They were in front of an old black-iron gate - a fierce, gothic façade protecting rows of dilapidated, weathered gravestones. Sheryl looked down at her hands. They were trembling and she folded her arms up against her chest to cover them.
"Are you ready?" Mike asked.
"Ready for what?" Sheryl replied as she turned and saw his eyes gleaming in a way that made her uncomfortable. They'd been dating for several months and Sheryl usually tried to steer clear of daring him into anything because odds were he'd actually do it.
"You'll see," Mike said. Sheryl looked away from his grinning face, heard the sound of gravel crunching under the truck tires and noticed they we're passing under the black-iron gate. She snapped her head back towards him.
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Nope."
"I don't like this, Mike."
"Trust me. It'll get worse."
"What?!"
"Just be patient."
"That's reassuring." Sheryl leaned back against her seat, trying to act cool and casual, knowing she wasn't fooling Mike or herself. The truck passed row after row of gravestones and Sheryl tried to catch some of the names and dates to no avail. It was too dark and the moonlight was just strong enough to pass through the thickened branches of the overhead trees that sprung up along each side of the gravel road. "It's like an old movie," she thought and half-expected to hear the call of a wolf in the distance or the whisper of the wind against the trees.
Cemeteries always made her uncomfortable and as she stared at the graves, couldn't help imagining all those coffins buried underground with rotting corpses inside, insects and worms crawling in and out. Sheryl stuck out her tongue and scolded herself while trying to forget such thoughts.
After a few minutes, she glanced through the various windows of the cab and couldn't find the gate from which they'd entered. Goosebumps perked up on her skin just as Mike stopped the truck, shut off the engine and popped the gearshift into neutral. Sheryl whipped around to face him.
"Are you crazy? What are you doing?" Sheryl narrowed her eyes as she spoke.
"Not afraid are you?" Mike's grin taunted her.
"Well, to tell the truth, yes, I'm starting to be!"
"Just relax."
"Relax!? Relax?! How can I do that? We're in the middle of a ghetto graveyard in the dead of night and you want me to relax?!" Sheryl shook her head in frustration.
"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." Mike was nonchalant as ever.
"Well I wish you'd tell me because I have no friggin' clue!"
"Just hold your horses for a moment and be quiet."
"Hold my hors..."
"Just shut up for a minute, okay?" Mike's tone started to border on annoyance. Sheryl cleared her throat and opened her mouth again to speak, but he put his index finger over her lips. She settled back into her seat and folded both arms into a perturbed position. Mike turned to stare out the windshield. Everything around them was silent as a tomb.
Without warning, the truck lurched slightly to one side and began to move on its own. Sheryl whirled around, expecting to see several of Mike's buddies pushing the truck as if this were a staged prank, but there was no one. Moving at a crawl, they slowly passed row after row of gravestones, the gravel road crunching beneath them. Sheryl's heart began to thump in her chest as she kept looking over her shoulder.
"This isn't funny!" she said.
"You're right," Mike replied. "But it's kind of cool, don't you think?"
"Of course not! The game's over! Tell your friends behind the truck to stop jerkin' us around!"
"Check your side view mirror, Sheryl." Mike was as calm as she'd ever seen him. Rolling her eyes, she looked into the side view mirror with a clear view of the back of the truck. No one was there. Sheryl's mouth fell open. "You see," he said. "There's no one there, just like I said." The truck began to slow down and Sheryl noticed they had reached the bottom of a hill. In front of them the gravel road sloped upwards again.
"Very funny! You thought you could fool me by letting the car slide downhill!" She inhaled, trying to muster a laugh, but what came out sounded more like a raspy cough instead.
Her head whirled around again as the truck started moving once more, now taking them uphill. Once again she glanced into the side view mirror then looked out the back window. No one was there. Sheryl slipped her hand over Mike's and squeezed it as her body huddled up against his. "I don't like this. I don't like it one bit at all!" she hissed.
"Don't worry." Mike's tone was gentle. "It's almost over." He pointed his finger and Sheryl saw they were approaching another black-iron gate. Once they passed under the archaic archway, the truck drifted to a stop. It was a long time before Sheryl would let go of Mike's hand or move at all.
"There's one more thing I want to show you," Mike finally said.
"What?" Sheryl whispered.
After some intense coaxing on Mike's part, the two of them got out of the truck and walked around to the back. Sheryl had almost forgotten that when they'd first stopped in front of the black-iron gates, she'd gotten out of the truck with Mike and watched as he'd pulled a bag of baking soda from the bed and thrown several handfuls against the back bumper. Sheryl shivered as Mike now pointed to the same bumper.
"Are you still the skeptic?" he asked.
The baking soda on the bumper bore the faint imprint of dozens of hands.
END
"Drive-By Flash" is an ongoing series for odd and usual flash fiction with a new story available every week. If you enjoyed this story, please comment, vote or follow me. I appreciate your support and follow my readers back.