Closing Shift: Headlights

When I was 21, I worked at a fast food franchise that was a ten-minute walk away from my house. Because I was one of the few adults out of high school at the time, I was asked to work the closing shifts. It wasn’t an issue – I had just graduated from college and hadn’t landed a fulltime job yet. It was an easy job – I took orders and handed out the food, usually in the drive-through. One night though was different. I was working as a cashier for the lobby because one of our newer crew members needed experience in the drive-through. One of our regulars, a man we’ll call “Jack”, asked for a refill on his coffee. Jack was an older gentleman in his early fifties, and almost always wore a pastel polo shirt with light khaki slacks. He had a habit of fidgeting with his fingernails while he waited for the coffee to brew. He also counted each packet of cream and sugar three times, and if there was too much, or not enough he would vocally complain about it until it was fixed. Other than that, however, Jack was an alright guy. He was nice and full of interesting topics to talk about.

As I was pouring his coffee, he asked me, “So, what time are you off?”

It was a weird question – he hadn’t asked me that before, but I figured it was a harmless question, so I answered, “I’m closing tonight – at 1 A.M.”

“Oh man, that’s awful, well, at least you can go home and go to bed, right?” he asked. I nodded with a laugh.

“Yeah, but then I have to get up and come back at 4 P.M. tomorrow,” I replied with a shake of my head. I finished his coffee and counted out his cream and sugar twice. He counted it three times, and satisfied, he left with his coffee. I didn’t think anything of it, and finished my shift as usual.

After I closed, I put in my headphones, turned on my Pandora music, and began walking home. Since it was 1 A.M., there were virtually no cars on the street. At the intersection, just outside of my job, a large white van pulled up next to me going down the same street I was headed down.

I pushed the button and crossed the street. The van did as well – however the van did it slowly, keeping its headlights aimed at me. Their headlights were so bright, I couldn’t see the driver. I began to walk faster, and the van sped up, but never once did its lights leave me. I didn’t feel comfortable, so I took a detour just to try to reassure myself that the van wasn’t following me. The van followed me down the street.

I was scared, so I called my boyfriend’s cell.

“Hello?” he asked sleepily, “What’s wrong babe?”

“There’s a creepy white van following me,” I answered, “I’m scared.”

“Where are you?” he asked, “I can come pick you up.”

“I should be fine, I’m almost home, I just needed to hear your voice,” I responded, “Plus, if I’m on the phone maybe they won’t make a move on me.” I was right – the car sped off just a block away from my house. I unlocked the door and opened it, before heading to the bedroom. My boyfriend had already fallen back asleep, and as I changed into my pajamas, I heard a knock at my door. I was still spooked by my encounter with the van, so I woke up my boyfriend and asked him to grab our baseball bat. I peeked out the window and saw the white van parked out front, as well as a police car and Jack. I opened the door and greeted the officer.

“Hello Officer, how can I help you?” I asked.

“Good evening sir, I need to ask you a couple of questions,” the man in the uniform said.

“About what?” I asked, confused. Jack stepped forward and pulled out his cellphone and began playing a video. It was a footage of me walking home, shot from the middle of the street. Behind me, I could see a man in a dark hoodie ducking between streetlights. A large knife flashed a few times in the light.

“Is this you in the video?” the officer asked.

“Yes, it is,” I responded, shaken by the video on the screen, I asked, turning to Jack “What’s going on Jack?”

“I saw you getting off, and you were followed by that guy, so I decided to follow you home,” he replied, “Once he realized I was following you, he ran away, and I called the police about it.”

“Thanks,” I said, not sure what else to say. I was thankful for Jack saving my life, but there is something that has bothered me since that night. Why was Jack there that night when I got off work?