Phantom of the Gorge

I have recently returned to writing and this is my first attempt at a fictional short story. It is about 1750 words. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think. I hope this is the place for this work.


Phantom of the Gorge
　
　
The mist over Appalachia flow and spread over the ground and around the trees. It hangs above the lakes and rivers and swallows roads and bridges. Any unlucky traveler caught trying to hike or drive will find the mist wrapping its fingers around him in a shroud like grip. The skeptic dismisses it as nothing more than weather, but those who live there know there is something more. You see, there is a silence that isn't heard at any other time. Some say it is the silence of those souls caught in this world, cursed to relive the wrongs they have done, or forever grieving over a life too soon ended.

It was my fortune (I don't know whether good or bad.) To meet one of these souls, although I didn't know it at the time. My story actually begins a couple of months before when I found myself out of work and a family to feed, cloth and shelter. I was the definition of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. In short I needed a marketable job skill. After a bit of study, becoming a truck driver seemed like the best option. So here I am driving a 387 Pete with a 53-foot dry van loaded to the max with a top heavy load of paper rolls stacked on end. I came out of a paper plant near Sumpter, SC and was heading for a customer just outside of St. Louis. The route went through a 30-mile stretch of road on I-40 simply known as the Gorge. It's a valley that passes through the Great Smokey Mountains and joins North Carolina with Tennessee and follows the Pigeon River.

I was in training and scared to death as I made my first run through the gorge. It was about midnight, and the fog was as thick as a cloud, with the occasional snow squall, typical January weather. My trainer was in the sleeper I assume trying to sleep. So here I am alone trying to keep the truck on the road. I'm going well below the speed limit and since trucks can't legally pass, I'm getting even more nervous knowing I'm holding up traffic. I could see the headlights of something larger than a car move into the left lane. Every time I checked my mirrors I could see the lights getting closer until the charter bus passed me like I was at a dead stop. He rounded the curve and disappeared. As I came around each curve, I would catch a glimpse of his taillights getting smaller as he kept pulling farther ahead. This went on as he passed truck after truck. Just before he disappeared completely from view I saw his taillights do a wiggle waggle from side to side. Then I saw his headlights pint at the wall of rock on the right. Last I saw, the bus went over the side on the left and into the river. The orange glow of fire marked his final position. Another driver who thought it was better to be lucky than good and was wrong.

I was surprised when I saw another bus come up behind me and again pass in a no passing zone. Same company as the first bus and just like the other disappeared around the next curve. Then I watched as this bus lost it at what appeared to be the same spot as the first bus. Again the taillights went wildly back and forth, then the bus skidded into the rock face, bounced off, crossed the median and went over the side just like the first bus.

I had been calling for my trainer since I saw the first bus go over the side. Stan finally made it out of the sleeper and into the jump seat as a third bus started to pass. He watched as it flew past us without saying a word. I couldn't believe he just sat there staring into space as the third bus went over the side at the same place as the other two.

When Stan finally spoke, "Better slowdown up ahead." "It might be really slick."

Stan was still looking into space. I couldn't see much in the cab, but I could see his face well enough. I was already going so slow I had ten trucks behind me.

"How much slower does this guy want me to go?" I knew better than to say what I was thinking out loud.

"Should we call 911?" I asked

"Nah., there's nothing they can do."

"Should we warn the other drivers?"

At that point Stan turned up the CB and keyed the mike, "Hey, ya'all might want to give the newbie a break. He's just seen the Phantom three times."

A voice comes back, "Ya gonna pull over?"

"Wish we could, but newbie's already lost enough time through the gorge. Sorry 'bout holdin' ya up." Was Stan's reply.

"Who've we got up there? You sound familiar." Asked another driver.

"Midnight rider." So now I know Stan's handle.

"Oh my, rider this is Ghost Train. You better tell your newbie the story, with as slick as the road is you might wait till we get closer to Dandridge."

" Good to hear from you Ghost, that night still haunts me."

"That makes two of us."

"What are you two going on about? It sure would be nice if you would spend more time driving and less time yammering." Came another voice.

"What's the Phantom, I haven't seen anything other than someone who has no clue how to drive." There's always one blow hard in every crowd.

This back and forth went on for a while until Stan keyed the mike, "I'm gonna back on outta here and make sure newbie keeps it on the right of the zipper."

"Good luck, rider. Ghost is out also."

I just had to know, so I asked, "What's the zipper?"

"It's the center line, see how the broken lines look like a zipper?" "How's the fuel?" asked Stan as he turned the CB down.

"We've got about a third of a tank." I replied as I looked down at the fuel gauge.

"There's a Pilot at Dandridge pull in there, we'll fuel up and switch drivers." Then Stan fell silent and that far off look returned.

It took fifteen minutes more to get out of the gorge and then another half hour to get to Dandridge. I pulled into the Pilot and was glad to give up the driver's seat. With full fuel tanks I got in the jump seat as Stan got behind the wheel. I really wanted to know what I had seen back in the gorge, but I also knew something about it bothered my trainer. It wasn't until we were through Knoxville before he started to speak.

"What you saw has only been seen by a couple dozen people in this world." At this point I knew the best thing I could do was listen and just let him tell the story. "I have no idea if the driver of that bus had a handle or not, no one's ever talked to him. We've given him the name of Phantom. I guess it's been about twenty years now. What you saw tonight wasn't three different buses. You saw the same bus three times. He'll be making that trip a few more times tonight. Anyway, 'bout twenty years ago we were crawling through the gorge, it was icy and the snow and fog had reduced visibility to about the front of the hood.

About ten miles in this bus comes flying around all of us. You could tell where he was by listening to the CB. I thought that bus was going to lose it and take me out in the process. He made it another three miles, then it all went wrong. I guess the driver decided to move back into the right lane and over steered. That or he hit black ice, I don't know. The police chalked it up to 'driving too fast for conditions' and closed the books. Anyway, the bus went crossways and slammed into the rock face. It then bounced against the 'k' rails, a couple of them gave way and the bus rolled through the gap. It came back onto its wheels, but the momentum took it over the edge and into the river. At that point the bus caught fire. By the time anyone could stop to help it was too late. The bus was fully engulfed and none of us could get down the hill, but we did try. As God is my witness--we did try. It turned out it was a tour bus taking a group from Conway SC to Gatlinburg TN. They were going to celebrate Christmas in the Smokies. Thirty-nine people including the driver lost their lives that night.

The reason you saw that bus tonight was because of me and Ghost. For some reason if any of us who stopped and tried to help are driving through the gorge on the anniversary of the accident, the Phantom appears. He repeats the run and accident thirty nine times, once for every life lost. The first couple times I saw it I tried to stop and help, but by the time I got to the accident the bus was gone. I'd never believed in ghosts until now. You know-it's bad enough that driver has to relive that nightmare, I hope his passengers aren't forced to relive that nightmare as well. Any way, that's the story of the Phantom."

I've been driving for a few years now and even come through the gorge on the 23rd of December, but I've not seen the phantom since that night. If you are ever driving westbound on I-40 between North Carolina and Tennessee, stay to the right unless you are passing. Watch your rearview mirror and if you see the headlights of a bus coming fast just get out of the way. Don't be surprised if that bus comes flying around you smashes into the wall on the right and then goes over the side into the river on the left. Before you call 911 check your mirrors and see if the process is repeating itself. If it does, you can be sure of something else also, someone else is living a nightmare also. A nightmare of seeing a horrible tragedy and being powerless to help.