It was a little past one in the morning, shortly after last call, when Nick left the bar, and briefly cursing at the rain soaking him, shuffled to his car, one of the few left in the muddy parking lot. Fumbling briefly with the keys, he soon had the car running and once again cursed the weather as he pulled out onto the road; watching the rain pelt the windshield mercilessly, straining his dampened senses to peer through the blurs.

Grumbling to himself as he navigated the dark country roads, he turned up the radio to block out the patter of the rain. About halfway home, still fighting through the haziness, and the blur of the weather, the road ahead was illuminated with the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Dully noting this, Nick paid little attention, until with its lights shining brightly in his eyes. his senses manage to relay the fact that this vehicle was driving in the middle of the road, heading straight towards him.

With the dulled fires of his neurons burning, his mind straining to react fast enough, he veered off to the right to escape the juggernaut bearing down on him. Of course he over-compensated, and his actions sent him off the road, his hands on the wheel too slow to react. With his mind slowly reeling, the wheels dug into the mud, bringing him to a safe stop, his car wedged in the ditch he'd propelled it into, leaving him shaken, but unharmed.

His fear quickly turned to anger, as several futile attempts to extricate the car from the ditch proved worthless, his temper rising as the wheels just spun noisily, slipping further into the thick mud greedily holding them. Then a splash of light across the window drew his attention backwards, his anger boiling he saw the vehicle which forced him off the road had turned and came to a stop behind him.

Getting out of the car, slamming the door, the rain pounding him and the mud sucking at his shoes just driving him on, he made his way to the offender's vehicle. His eyes adjusting to the light from its headlights, he saw it was an old, beat-up truck, and was then rewarded by the sight of its driver getting out and walking towards him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Nick growled at the man before him, a slight slur evident in his voice.

The other driver, an old man, his face worn and wrinkled, with unkempt, gray hair, wearing horned-rimmed glasses, and dressed in a heavy flannel shirt, shabby, non-descript pants and a pair of dirty old boots, looked at him for a moment or two, before asking "are you okay son?" with a heavy New-England accent in his voice.

"Yeah, and no thanks to you... you just ran me off the road, asshole!" Nick was almost shouting now.

The old man continued to look at him, reaching a hand up to run through his hair, as if scratching his head in confusion, or perhaps trying to straighten out the matted locks. Then peering at him through his spectacles, his eyes glimmering slightly, he let out a small chuckle. "It appears to me, I reckon, that you've been drinking, haven't you son?"

His anger boiling over, Nick glared at this old fool, who had the nerve to hold him at fault. "Fuck you! So what if I've been drinking? I've done this many times before and never had a problem... not until you showed up driving on the wrong fucking side of road!"

"You may think you know how to handle your drinking, and perhaps you might be fit to drive like this, but I reckon that trying to drive in weather like tonight, in your shape, is a damn fool thing to do."

Having lost just about all of his patience, Nick was gearing up for a fight, when the man simply smiled at him. Then, standing there in the rain, bewildered, he felt the anger drain out of him, confused at the power behind the old man's wrinkled visage.

Seeing him blink at the unexpected turn of events, the old man's voice softens, just slightly. "Come on, let's get out of this weather before we catch our deaths. There's nothing we can do about your car, you got it stuck in there but tight... I can give you a ride home and you can have someone come back and get it in the morning."

Still confused, but the old man's words making sense to him, Nick numbly followed him to the car, shaking off the rain and sinking into the dingy, but comfortable warmth of the pickup. As they started their journey once again down the dark and winding country road, the old man started in with some small talk. Nick barely listened to him, his mind occupied with confusion, blurriness and just a trace of his anger; the old man kept up his commentary just the same, not seeming to pay much heed to Nick's ignoring him.

A few miles down the road, they encountered another car, this time a station wagon, as it passed the old man made a comment about another traveler out on this wretched night. Then his talk became more insistent, drawing Nick's attention. "You know son, you should be more careful about your drinking. This road is more dangerous than you think. In fact, I myself had a pretty bad accident on this very road..."

As Nick turned to look at him, he continued "it was about 30 years ago, I reckon, and it was a night pretty much like this one. I'd been drinking, like I did a lot back in those days, and didn't think much about it, as I'd driven these roads since I'd been old enough to drive."

Pausing he added, "I should have known better, but you know you're never old enough for that, it seems, at least until it's too late. It was a hell of an accident, you know. It was at that bad spot in the road we passed a few miles ago, you know that sharp bend?"

"It's always been a bad turn, but this truck handles better than it looks, and I knew these roads like the back of my hand, so I guess I was driving a little faster than I should have been..." Then, his voice cracking slightly, he finished. "I got to that turn, and right there was a busload of school kids, coming back from a game or something. I was taking it a bit wide, and I couldn't react fast enough. It was a horrible, just horrible..." His voice trailed off, his hands tightening their grip on the wheel, his eyes recounting the horrors of that night.

Staring at him in disbelief, Nick watched him silently, questions and emotions echoing through his mind; unable to think of anything useful to say, he just looked at him dully.

Perhaps a minute ticked by in that uncomfortable silence before the old man spoke again. "You know that car we passed, there was a family in there, and if I hadn't come along when I did, you would've met up with them at the same place I met that bus all those years ago..."

Just then the old man turned his head slightly, only for a moment, but that's all it took, as the old man's eyes met Nick's and he felt them pierce into him, cutting through the haze in his mind and reaching clear into his soul. Only a moment, an instant of scrutiny and accusation, before the old man's gaze softened and he just as quickly looked away, but Nick felt it, and the chill it left stayed with him as the old man continued talking.

"You see Nick, I guess I'm like a guardian angel of sorts. Not my idea of course, but that all changed that horrible night of the accident. Most of the kids on the bus died that night. I paid for it with my life of course, but that wasn't enough, you see..."

"Since that night, I've been out here working off my debt, helping people like you, saving lives, each one helping to pay back for the ones I took that night. It's been a long time of service, but I'm getting it taken care of; by stopping you tonight, I kept you from an accident with that family back there."

Speechless, his dulled mind shaken, trying to disbelieve, Nick continued to stare at the old man, before he finished his tale. "Of course even though I saved you tonight, it doesn't mean you're completely free. We all have our debts Nick, and you too will owe something, for not only your life, but for me saving the lives of that family as well..."

Then sitting there in the darkness of the cab, a chill running through him, looking at face of the now-silent old man, lit by the pale lights of the instrument panel, a new shiver of realization ran through the back of Nick's mind. He had never told the old man his name...

"Well I see by the look on your face my friend, that you don't think much of my little tale. I didn't think much of it either, when I first heard it all those years ago, but since then I've come to find the old man's words were true. Like I was back then, you too are lucky that I came along when I did. Of course you now owe us for the lives saved tonight, and while your debt is a lot less than what it would have been, in due time all debts are to be paid in full."

Copyright 1996, Will A. Sanborn - was1@shore.net