The Cabbie

Jeff exhaled slowly and watched the white vapor of his breath disappear into the dark night air. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his long coat. Down the road, the bass from a local club muffled the sounds of cars rushing by. It was a busy night. Halloween always was, but most of the people were tucked away inside, sheltering from the night’s unseasonable cold. Jeff stumbled slightly when a woman dressed in a dark cloak and wig pushed past him on the busy sidewalk. She turned and gave him a sneer that revealed her lipstick stained teeth as she staggered away. Jeff hated Halloween.

He let out another ethereal puff, and then he stepped closer to the road to hail a cab. He stood, arm outstretched as one, then two, then three cabs passed him by. Frustrated, he checked his watch. 11:45 p.m. And he had work tomorrow and a dinner date. He watched as a fourth cab approached. He half-heartedly held out his arm. To his pleasant surprise, the cab slowed, then swerved out of traffic and over to the curb in front of him.

”Finally,” Jeff muttered to himself. Hailing cabs in New York City was getting to be too much of a challenge to be enjoyable anymore. When he was younger, Jeff had not minded the time and distraction, but he was beyond the years of finding any enjoyment in the daily task. For a moment, Jeff allowed himself to imagine living in a quieter place with less people and music and lights, then he opened the cab door and swooped inside, taking special care not to hit his head on the doorframe.

“Where to?”

The cabbie’s voice was low and hoarse, bored even.

“Home,” Jeff said.

He chuckled quietly at his own joke. The cabbie waited, saying nothing.

”3125 Brishmore Avenue,” Jeff clarified.

The driver offered no response, but pulled slowly and smoothly out into traffic. Jeff looked out the window, watching the fluorescent bulbs flash their unnatural colors. There was something uncanny about their glow tonight. Maybe it was just Jeff; he was tired and wished he didn’t have to go back to the office tomorrow. Work was so grating at times. He shook his head and shifted his attention to the cabbie instead. He had the kind of face that Jeff seemed to forget as soon as he stopped looking. The driver was not young and not old. There were no landmarks on his face that gave the viewer an impression of his being handsome or unattractive. He was, quite simply, forgettable.

”Why aren’t you joining the festivities,” the cabbie asked.

Jeff reddened slightly, aware suddenly of the intensity with which he had been examining the driver.

”Halloween’s not really my thing,” Jeff mumbled.

”Hmm.”

“Besides, I have work early tomorrow.”

Jeff wasn’t sure what compelled him to volunteer that complaint. Jeff wasn’t typically the type to complain. Today had been a bad day, though, and the words rushed out of him whether he wanted them to or not.

”I have work early tomorrow and a day jam packed with things to do and people to grovel to and a million things that I just can’t get out of, and I just…don’t like Halloween.”

The cabbie made no reply. Looking out the window, Jeff realized he no longer recognized the part of town he was in.

”Where are we?” Jeff asked.

Still, the cabbie made no reply.

“This isn’t where I live.”

Jeff felt annoyance bubbling just under the surface when the cabbie let out a lingering laugh - a croaking, hollow sound that sent shivers up and down Jeff’s spine.

”No,” he answered. “It’s not.”

When Jeff looked back at the cabbie, he noticed for the first time how distinct his nose looked. In fact, the utterly forgettable face that Jeff had examined so carefully was gone, replaced by eyes too dark, skin too light, and a smile that was more like the ghost of a smile than a real one. White teeth shone brightly, clacking together ever so slightly with the cabbie’s laughter.

”What did you say your name was?” Jeff asked, hearing undertones of hysteria in his voice despite his best efforts to keep it level. He would definitely need to call the cab company about this tomorrow.

The city seemed to be swirling by Jeff in a confused haze. The car he was riding in seemed to be shifting, too. Though he had climbed into a bright yellow taxi, the back seat had enlarged at some point on the drive. Jeff wondered how he had missed it. There was a large, open space in the center of the car, and Jeff realized that he was sitting in a hertz. There was no mistaking it.

Jeff shook his head slowly. He tried to clear the fog from his brain.

“Just let me out here. I will call another cab.”

Again, the cabbie rasped out a laugh. The car did not slow down. Jeff reached for the door handle. It was locked. He took out his phone, but when he tried to dial, there was no service.

Red-hot panic spread through Jeff’s chest. The neon colors outside the window melted together as the hertz continued on its slow, winding path through unfamiliar territory. There were no people outside. No one to call out to or to witness Jeff slapping the window.

“Where are you taking me?” Jeff asked, his fear now clearly audible.

He closed his eyes, feeling nauseous, and then opened them again. He was sitting inside of a coffin in the center of the hertz, listening to the unnerving laughter echoing from the front seat. Jeff felt tired. Sleep suddenly seemed like a very good idea. Against his will, his jaws stretched into a yawn. Sleep. Oh, to sleep.

”Please. Please. Where are we going?” Jeff asked again, slurring his words.

“Home,” chuckled the cabbie.

The last sound Jeff heard was the low, gravelly laughter of Death as the coffin lid closed over his prostrate form, and the hertz continued its deliberate progress…Home.