The Road is a Harsh Mistress

Dedicated to all the dads out there... especially mine.

One of the greats.

I miss you, Dad.

The only thing Mike Carter loved more than a day driving through the mountains was his children. But he never could have imagined that a fateful days' drive would be interrupted by a beautiful, not to mention naked, woman stumbling into the road and completely upending his life. After Mike rescued her from certain death on a winding mountain road, he finds himself drawn into a web of deception and criminality. And at the heart of the conspiracy is a wish granting Artifact of unspeakable power.

Suddenly having found himself thrust into an adventure beyond his comprehension, Mike must navigate the challenging intersection between dream and nightmare as the forces of darkness align against him. His only saving grace? The beautiful woman he rescued from captivity... and who just might find herself in a position to save Mike from a prison without walls, and entirely of his own making.

The Road is a Harsh Mistress is a contemporary wish-fulfillment fantasy about a father's quest to make the perfect life for his children and, in so doing, discover happiness might not be beyond his grasp after all.

Author's Note:

This novel is a work of contemporary fantasy adventure. I've split it into three sections for publication here.

This is the third edition of this novel. If you've read it before on another site, you'll find this update includes many rather fundamental changes. In addition to changing some key plot details, I have also reimagined some characters while fleshing out others (and even removed a few who I found detracted from the story I was trying to tell). For those who enjoyed the novel in the past, I hope you like the new version. For everyone else, ignore everything I just said and enjoy Mike's adventure.

All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

One

Mike Carter stood easily behind the wheel, enjoying the fleeting feeling of control and contentment that he always derived from driving. He made a nearly imperceptible adjustment, the rapidly changing conditions before him translating without conscious thought into minor corrections to their course and speed. The deep V-hull of the center console cruiser cut cleanly through the converging wakes with a satisfying woosh to accompany the fountain of water which rose along the sides of the craft. Having been built to cut through the waves of the open ocean with ease, the relatively sedate chop on the quiet mountain lake presented little challenge. His children were also enjoying the ride, leaning against the bow railing, and shouting for him to go faster with each splash. His parents, favoring a more cautious approach, opted to sit in the stern so they could stay dry.

The boat technically belonged to Mike's parents, having been purchased as a thinly veiled inducement to ensure frequent visits from their grandchildren, but there was never a question of who would be at the controls when Mike was aboard. As a boy, he had quickly transitioned through the phase where his folks had feigned horror at the thought of him behind the wheel. He had mastered watercraft before graduating from primary school. His mastery of automobiles had come even quicker thanks to an initially promising career in karting which had been cut short by a crash severe enough to cause his mother to be firm with her husband and son.

Despite the end to his racing career, he had retained a love for driving all manner of vehicles. It was one of the few places where he was truly in his element. Whether it was cruising across a mountain lake, or rocketing along an empty stretch of road, nothing was able to help Mike better reset after a stressful week quite like getting behind the wheel.

As Mike approached the cove on the far side of the lake, he backed off the throttle to allow the craft to gracefully coast to a halt near their favorite swimming hole. He set the anchor before giving his children the go-ahead to leap into the water to swim to their friends. His daughter Alexis grumbled briefly about wearing her life jacket, despite its bright pink color scheme which she had personally selected despite the existence of several more reasonable options being available. Yet, despite her precocious nature, she begrudgingly agreed that she was not a strong enough swimmer to swim across the cove unassisted. She headed to a group of primary-school aged children who were busy leaping off a dock which was moored in the middle of a circle of watercraft owned by his parents' neighbors. Mike's fifteen-year-old son Zach headed for a group of high school age kids, especially the sophomore head majorette from his school with whom he was clearly smitten.

Mike took a long pull from his insulated cup filled with the delectable combination of iced tea and lemonade named after the golfing great, which had become his drink of choice after swearing off alcohol. After giving the lines a final check, he sank down in the aft seating area under the Bimini top. He adjusted his sunglasses and cast his eyes across the cove, allowing them to linger on all the beautiful ladies who seemed to be competing to see who could get away with the smallest bikini. It was a fraught exercise, especially considering that some of the young ladies wearing the least were only a few years older than his son, but helpful markers like the presence of tattoos, tobacco or alcohol helped immeasurably in identifying those it was safe to ogle. Some were sunning themselves on the back decks of their bowriders. Others were hanging out on their pontoon boats surrounded by admirers. Still more were getting set to take another loop around the lake behind their wake boats. Mike's wandering gaze soon fell upon a new attraction in the cove: what appeared to be the Kaiju version of a child's floating toy. It was easily the size of a school bus, and was roughly in the shape of a sausage. Mike had a distant memory of seeing videos online showing people with more money than sense leaping from tall structures to catapult their comrades high into the air before, hopefully, crashing into the water. He could not remember what it was called, but he quickly decided it had been designed by a genius. A group of college girls had evidently towed it to the cove and were taking turns trying to bounce each other off. The bathing suits those beauties were wearing just did not seem like they would be able to handle the strain of the breasts they were tasked to contain as the ladies bounced ever higher.

Mike's reverie was broken when his mother Tessa asked, "So... how are things?"

Without taking his eyes from the gaily frolicking barely legal sunbathers, Mike replied, "Nominal."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"It means performing as expected, and without exceeding known fault tolerances," Mike's father Jubal supplied.

Tessa frowned and said, "That doesn't exactly sound the same as 'good'... or even 'fine'."

Mike shrugged and said, "It is what it is."

Jubal frowned and seemed about to say more, but Tessa laid a hand on his knee and said, "We see all you do."

Mike sighed and glanced around the cove again, waiting for the tightness in his throat to subside.

"You work too hard, son."

"Deety and Vivian are flying the kids up to their place in a few weeks, and things seem poised to calm down soon at work. I'm sure I'll find some time to relax then."

His mother smiled wanly and said, "Just know we're here for you, honey."

"I appreciate that. Truly. You guys have always been there for me, but especially these last few years."

"I just wish we could do more," Tessa sighed. "Perhaps we could have the kids spend the night. I believe the Winstons are having a barbeque tonight, and I'm sure Zach wouldn't mind getting to spend more time with their lovely granddaughter."

Mike's eyes scanned over to the deck boat where his son was animatedly chatting with the girl in question before agreeing, "Sure. That would be great. Just let me know when I should swing by tomorrow to pick them up."

"How about we drop them off tomorrow afternoon," Jubal offered. "Give you a well-deserved night off. Perhaps you could give one of those apps Paul was mentioning last time they were down here a try."

"I'll think about it," Mike grunted, unwilling to outright lie to his father while also having zero intention of downloading (much less making use of) the aforementioned dating app.

As the sun moved closer to sinking behind the mountains which circled the lake, Mike called the kids back to the boat so they could head to the marina. By the time he finished securing the boat and prepping everything for next week's lake day, it was time for everyone else to head to the house for dinner. His parents had invited him to stay for dinner, but he heard the siren's song of a rare opportunity indeed calling to him; one which he had no intention of ignoring.

After bidding his family adieu, Mike headed for the only thing he loved to drive more than 'his' boat, a twin-turbo V6 all-wheel-drive sport coupe. In his estimation, it suited him perfectly. It was a vehicle that had the performance of a sports car but looked like a boring family car. For the most part, he was very careful to drive safely when anyone else was with him. But on those rare occasions when he got his 350-horsepower coupe to himself, all bets were off. Especially if some particularly lonely mountain roads were involved. As soon as he turned onto the state highway that led from his parents' retirement home in the foothills back through the mountains to his home in the suburbs, he opened the gleefully taps.

Mike's soul rejoiced as his coupe got up to speed and gobbled up the tarmac. He loved the winding mountain roads nearly as much as he loved his children: the long sweeping bends; the challenging overtaking zones; the endless valleys where you could really put your foot down with confidence that no one would get in the way. The thrill he felt when he buried his left foot as he crested a hill and surged to twice the posted speed limit before reaching the valley floor was tantamount to a religious experience, only surpassed by perfectly hitting the apex on those wonderful, banked turns (even if said apex happened to be located in the oncoming lane).

Mike chose the 'quickest' route for his journey home, which was not necessarily the shortest. This route had several challenging sections but also had no traffic signals or stop signs until he was within twenty minutes of his house. After getting up to speed, he quickly achieved a near perfect state of calm concentration. The biggest risk of those mountain roads was someone pulling out of a nearly hidden driveway, either not knowing or not caring that he was barreling towards them at a speed normally reserved for aircraft. He was hyper aware of his surroundings when driving his coupe at its limit: scanning along both sides of the upcoming tarmac; checking each mirror every few seconds; keeping his hands perfectly placed with his fingers just barely kissing the paddle shifters; feet perfectly vertical and just barely resting on the floorboard. All of this was done to ensure that both he, and his coupe, were in the best possible position to handle whatever he might encounter when he crested the next hill or rounded the next bend.

His route took him through one notable valley, which was either fantastic or angst ridden, depending on one's point of view. As Mike approached the valley, he spotted a slow-moving pickup in the distance, and picked up the pace to ensure he could pass it before he arrived at the valley floor. The turbochargers screamed as he rocketed down the steep incline, and he was on full alert for the slightest hint that something was amiss. The roads he favored tended to be almost devoid of cops, but there was always the chance he would happen upon one who would like nothing better than to throw the dumb liberal from the city behind bars for driving 'recklessly'. He reached the pickup with only the length of a football pitch to spare, but the overtaking zone had already ended. Without a second thought, Mike took a quick glance through the truck's rear window to confirm there was no oncoming traffic before whipping around the slow-moving vehicle. The entire maneuver took less than a second, thanks to the fact that Mike was traveling nearly three times as fast as the hapless old-timer on his way to town for groceries.

He entered the valley shouting for joy. He reached up to the overhead control to deactivate his traction control as he approached the first bend. A quick tap of the brakes before he gunned the throttle and flicked the wheel sent the tail of his coupe sliding out as he oversteered through the first corner nearly perpendicular to his lane. His tires screamed as he held the drift through the end of the switchback before snapping the vehicle back in line and throttling out of it.

On the fourth switchback, he was surprised by an oncoming car just before he started his drift. He was forced to brake hard to avoid a collision. He heard the angry shouts of the other driver but could only shrug in response. After all, he reasoned, there were still five more switchbacks to go.

Reaching the summit on the opposite side of the valley, he reactivated the traction control and increased his speed. The switchbacks on the downhill run into the next valley were less severe, and thus more conducive to high-speed cornering. He took each corner quicker than the last, growing ever more bold. By the time he approached the summit, there was an active competition to see what was louder: the squeal of his tires as they struggled to grip the tarmac or the scream of the turbos as his engine climbed above six-thousand revolutions per minute.

He felt himself go light in the seat as he crested the a small rise, and his wheels momentarily lost touch with the road. His heart was racing with a mixture of delight and terror. It was the most alive he had felt in weeks.

Mike was just entering a small town along his route, thus necessitating that he pretend for a few moments that he was no different from anyone else out for a Saturday afternoon drive, when his phone rang. After glancing at the screen in the center of his dash, he thumbed the steering wheel control to answer the call and exclaimed, "Hey brother! What's happening?"

"Mike, my good man, I am splendid. Headed out to one of our branches to promote a very deserving young woman in person. Nothing but the steering wheel to keep me company, so I decided I'd reach out to my oldest friend. A friend, I'll remind you, who never seems to get around to calling his old friend Jake."

Mike cringed inwardly at the truth of his old roommate's words. He had met Jake during his sophomore year of college, and they had instantly become life-long friends. Jake had gotten married and moved to Florida right after graduation. Within four years, he was a father twice over. Now, as he neared his forty-second birthday, he was on the doorstep of becoming an empty nester. The plans he and his wife had for their post-kid years were as varied as they were ambitious.

"Sorry about that," Mike answered belatedly. "Things have been pretty hectic."

"How are Connie and the kids?"

Mike's eyes rolled back in his head, and he felt the beginnings of a stress headache building behind his eyeballs. He knew his old roommate was just being friendly. Moreover, he knew that he was long overdue to come clean to his former best-man. He pulled into a petrol station, rather than risk losing signal when he returned to the desolate mountain roads.

"The kids are great," Mike deflected as he set the hand-brake. "They're headed up north with my sister and her wife in a few weeks to see Niagara Falls. Alexis is starting fourth grade this fall and Zach's going to be a junior. How about you? Wife and kids doing ok?"

"They're doing great. Youngest is headed to our alma mater in a few weeks. Hope he never manages to find the liquor store on Spring Street that doesn't believe in checking identification. Oldest is changing her major. Again. She informed Nora and I that she's now on the five-year plan."

"Serves you right," Mike chuckled. "How long were you in school?"

"It's different when you get more than one degree. Ass."

"Have you and Nora decided yet where you're going first on your bucket list tour?"

"Patagonia."

"Wow. You guys aren't messing around."

"Go big or go home, brother," Jake jested. He then quieted and asked, "How's Connie, Mike?"

"That's rather a more complicated question than you might think."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Connie left me, brother."

"Oh, shit," Jake grunted. "I'm so sorry, Mike. What happened?"

"It's a long story, and not a very good one."

"So are you guys just going through a rough patch, or..."

"The divorce was finalized in January. She moved out right after Labor Day last year."

"Fuck. Brother, I had no idea. I thought she was just going through some health challenges."

"Maybe she still is," Mike conceded. "But, as she said, that's no longer my concern."

"What about the kids?"

"They're with me. I mean, not right now. They're at my folks for the night. But they live with me. Technically we've got joint custody, but no one's heard from her in months so..."

"That's... wow."

"Yup," Mike huffed, popping the 'P'.

"How you holding up?"

"I am... nominal."

"That's what I was afraid of. Any chance you'll be able to make the get-together next month?"

Their group of friends got together every year in a different interesting city. This year, they had chosen Vancouver. It was an event that Mike had missed for more often than not since Jake had arranged the first one the year following Zach's birth.

Mike shook his head, heedless of the fact that Jake could not see him through the phone, and said, "I don't think so."

Jake was quiet for a moment before finally saying, "You're allowed to have fun, you know. I'm sure your family would step up to the plate and help you out with the munchkins."

"It's not that. I just don't feel comfortable being away that long."

Jake sighed and said, "Fair enough. I said my piece. But I hope you'll consider it. I'd really love it if you could come. I think it might do you a lot of good. I can pretty much guarantee that you won't buy a single drink the entire weekend."

"Thanks man," Mike said resignedly. "I will."

"Listen, brother. I've got to let you go. I'm pulling up to the branch. Take care of yourself, ok?"

"You too. Be well, brother."

Two

Mike disconnected the call and shook his head wearily. He loved his friends, and would have loved nothing more than to join them on the trip. But he had known since the moment it was announced that he would miss it. Such extravagances were no longer worth the effort for him. It was hard enough to squeeze in a long drive every few weeks. With that in mind, he pulled back onto the state highway and resumed his drive back to the suburbs.

Thoughts of his friends from college, and his ex-wife, were soon driven from his thoughts as he realized he was approaching one of his favorite bends on the route he had chosen. It was a tricky left hander with a challenging double-apex, but it was perfectly banked so as to allow a skilled driver to exit the corner at a speed sufficient for more than 2 G's of downward force. The trickiness of the corner was due to the fact that while one could clearly see the oncoming traffic moving along the other end of the valley, the corner itself was shrouded in trees close along the road. He kept a close eye on the thankfully empty oncoming lane far ahead during the lengthy run-up to the corner, so he was confident there were no oncoming cars to worry him. He went intentionally wide on the first apex, knowing that even though the untrained eye would see two corners in quick succession, it was in fact one long corner if you had the courage, and the vehicle, to hold the outside of the first part of the turn at nearly full throttle. He entered the corner perfectly, dropping into the first part of the banked section of road well in excess of the speed limit and accelerating hard. This section of the road required the most skill, and the most confidence in one's vehicle. Keeping the engine cranked up to just north of six-thousand revolutions per minute in third gear planted the car to the tarmac like a fly caught in a web thanks to the maneuver forcing the vehicle's momentum, and a good chunk of the power thanks to the intelligent all-wheel-drive system, into the back end. He knew from the second he entered the corner complex that he had done things perfectly and smiled ear to ear.