Ghost Shadows

by Thomas M. Malafarina

  For Chad, the word ‘civilization’ meant areas of the state with familiar places like McDonalds, Burger King, Wendy’s, Pizza Hut or any of the other national franchises, which he knew he could usually count on to be clean and have a staff of cordial, friendly workers. Those were the sorts of places that would ensure him he had truly left the untamed wilderness and had safely made it back to at least some semblance of normalcy. That is to say some place much less bizarre than and much more socially acceptable than what he thought of as Clem and Bubba’s Inbred Emporium.

  Chad usually didn’t consider himself a snob, a bigot, or a prejudiced type of person. But the more he thought about it the more he realized most of those types of people likely seldom thought of themselves as such. So unfortunately, maybe he was more of a bigot then he realized. This made him feel momentarily guilty for having had such negative feelings toward the odd pair in the gas station. He really didn’t know the two people and as such had no business prejudging them. But when he recalled how all of his internal alarms had seemed to go off at once in their presence, he decided perhaps his displeasure was not necessarily the result of bigotry but was some natural built-in early warning system.

  He had driven away from the store as quickly as possible, perhaps a bit over the posted speed limit, extremely anxious about putting as much distance between himself and the strange pair. He had started to imagine a scenario picturing the two weird characters leaving the store, climbing into a beat-up rusted Ford pickup truck, and speeding after him with the intention of forcing him off the highway, taking him prisoner and doing whatever those sorts of creepy people did whenever they kidnapped someone. Once again he recalled Deliverance and the scene where the character played by Ned Beatty was being raped by a group of mountain psychos. Another cold chill ran down his back as he repeatedly took quick glances into his rearview mirror to make sure he was not being followed and was still alone; which, fortunately, he was.

  He remembered looking up at the wet roadway and saw a sign stating “Erie 80 MI” and he had breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he would arrive at his destination in less than two hours and he hoped to find more signs of civilization long before then. But that had been the very last thing Chad could recall. One minute he had been driving along the rainy roadway replaying the strange scene from the gas station, then everything went blank until he found himself passing the sign proclaiming Erie was now only fifty miles away. He had no idea what had happened to the last thirty miles; more than forty minutes of travel.

  Shortly after passing the most recent road sign he entered another heavily forested area with trees towering so high and thick over the roadway as to create a blanket of shade so dark it was almost like night. The rain did not seem to fall heavily under the canopy of greenery but dripped steadily. The misty fog was just as dense as ever. Chad, once again, could feel himself starting to zone out and he tried turning on the radio to help him stay alert, but all he got was static.

  He fiddled with the tuning button for a few second more before finally giving up. When he looked up from the radio he was suddenly startled. Something; a creature of some sort, possibly a dog or cat scurried out from the underbrush and ran directly into the path of his car. Chad swerved in a desperate attempt to avoid hitting whatever it was and almost overcompensated, which might have resulted in his crashing the car into a tree. When he swerved to avoid the creature, Chad succeeded in missing the thing with his right front tire. But then he felt a thud under his car on the left side as he realized he had unfortunately struck the creature with his left rear tire. He also heard the animal let out a high-pitched screech and then he knew for certain he had hit it.

  Chad pulled over onto the sparse shoulder of the highway and sat breathing rapidly as he looked into his rearview mirror. With the minimal light coming through the canopy of trees he could see whatever it was he had struck lying near the middle of the road just on his side of the double yellow line. And it appeared to still be moving.

  “Oh man!” Chad exclaimed with frustration, realizing he was now faced with the decision of whether to just drive off or to go back and see how bad things really were. He had hit and killed animals on highways before, small rabbits or squirrels that had wandered onto the road, and in every case he had simply driven away. But each of those times he had actually seen the type of animal he had hit. This time he had not.

  Although he could tell it was fairly large he could not say for certain whether it was a wild animal or if perhaps it was someone’s pet. He recalled passing a number of rural mailboxes along the road and it was entirely possible that someone’s dog or cat had strayed onto the highway. Chad hated when people accidently ran over pets then fled the scene. It seemed so wrong to him; and for a very good reason.

  When he had been a very young boy, perhaps five or six, he had a pet beagle named “Rascal.” That dog had been struck and killed by a car, but the driver never stopped to tell anyone; he had just driven away. Chad had been out playing with his friend when they came upon the ravaged remains of his once beloved pet. Young Chad had no idea who had killed his dog, but he wished the man had not just driven away leaving Rascal unattended. He often wondered if his dog might have just been badly hurt and not killed immediately. Maybe his pet could have been helped and perhaps didn’t have to die. But he would never know for certain.

  Reluctantly, Chad slowly opened the door to his car and placed his left foot on the roadway. As he did so, he caught another reflection in the side mirror and between the patches of fog he could see the creature moving slightly once again. Apparently, he had not killed it but perhaps only stunned it. In the darkness of the shadowed and misty highway, he was still unable to identify what type of animal it was. Although he was quite concerned about the creature, he was also equally uncomfortable with the idea of approaching the unknown thing to render assistance. Yet he understood he couldn’t just drive away and leave it where it was. He was certain eventually another car or truck would come by and hit it again, possibly finishing it off.

  If he got to the creature in time it might be still alive and there might be a chance for him to do something to help it survive. He reached into his pocket and checked his phone, only to see there was no cell service available. He thought again about getting back into the car and driving away then recalled how badly he had felt as a child upon finding his own dog dead along a highway. The rain apparently had picked up because now even under the trees there was a steady drizzle.

  He stood next to his car and after a brief hesitation he drummed up the courage to cautiously walk up the road toward the injured animal. As he got closer, Chad heard a rustling in the underbrush along the side of the road and momentarily was startled, wondering if some other animal, perhaps a wild one, might be lurking in the underbrush. Perhaps it was a predator or a scavenger eager to take advantage of the wounded animal.

  Then Chad thought he saw the bushes moving in several spots along the highway as if some small unseen creatures were scurrying about just out of sight. Once again he considered running back to his car, jumping inside, and driving away no matter how much he felt obliged to stay, but once again he realized he could not. He looked at his watch, realizing he was now most definitely going to be late for his appointment in Erie and would likely have to reschedule it until later in the day.

  He shook his head with frustration and walked toward the quivering mass of fur lying in the middle of the roadway. As he got closer he heard it make a low guttural growl as the thing began to raise itself upright to the best of its limited ability. To his surprise, it was not a dog or cat or any sort of family pet. The creature he had struck was a large groundhog.

  Chad suddenly had a memory from his childhood about how his father used to call groundhogs “whistle pigs” because of the way the male groundhogs would stand on their hind legs and utter a whistling sound to attract the attention of females. He was told they also issued the whistling sound to warn other groundhogs of impending danger. Although Chad had ne
ver seen or heard such a display he assumed they must do something like that or else his father would never have referred to them as such. He had forgotten the term until that very moment as he saw the thing trying to stand upright.

  Then another name suddenly popped into his mind; “grundie.” His wife and several of their Berks County friends referred to groundhogs as grundies. Not being a native of that area of Pennsylvania as his wife had been, he assumed it to be a local colloquialism.

  “A grundie!” Chad said aloud. “Now what in the hell am I supposed to do?” He knew groundhogs were herbivores and as such didn’t eat meat but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t attack him if it felt threatened. Meat-eater or not it still had teeth and claws.

  He had originally been concerned about dealing with a wounded pet, but now that he knew the creature was a wild, feral animal he was even more unsure of how or if he should go about approaching the thing. Then he heard the creature moan a mournful cry in a way that could only be the result of intense pain.

  Chad carefully walked around the creature trying to get a better view of it to determine the extent of its injuries. He was quite certain it could not crawl away or surely it would have done so already. Then as he crossed over to the opposite side of the double yellow line his stomach clenched with revulsion at the sight before him.

  The back third of the poor creature was completely decimated, having been squashed flat by Chad’s tire while the remaining two thirds of the creature writhed in agony. The groundhog’s back legs were no longer recognizable, having become part of the shattered jumble of fur, blood and, entrails smeared along the centerline of the highway.

  The upper part of the creature’s body was vertical as the thing thrashed about slashing with its clawed forepaws while hissing and growling and snapping its jaws savagely as if even in the throes of eminent death it was still trying to fight off its human adversary. It issued a high-pitched whistling noise so loud it hurt Chad’s ears. Then he heard a series of similar whistling noises coming from the rustling underbrush.

  Chad found himself wracked with conflicting emotions; pity for the poor dying groundhog, guilt for being the one responsible for its pain, fear that he might end up scratched or bitten himself, knowledge that he would remember this unspeakable nightmare for as long as he lived, and an understanding of what he had to do next.

  He could tell by the level of damage his car had done that the creature was as good as dead. The thing was obviously suffering with unimaginable pain and the only right thing for him to do was to somehow put the pathetic creature out of its misery, and to do so as quickly as possible. But how could he?

  For a moment, Chad considered perhaps backing his car over top of the creature and finishing it off but the idea of the additional mess it might make on his undercarriage revolted him. What could he do? Then he had an idea; not the best of solutions, but one he believed to be a workable plan.

  If he could just find a large rock, he could sneak up on the creature from behind and bash in its skull, killing it quickly and humanely while keeping himself out of harm’s way in the process. Chad was fairly certain with its squashed lower body stuck fast to the highway the creature would not be able to turn around to attempt to attack him when he got close enough.

  He slowly walked back to the side of the roadway to try to find a rock of sufficient size to do what had to be done. As he did so, the creature continued growling, hissing, and whistling until Chad passed beyond its field of vision. Then the animal went back down into a crouched position where it began pathetically licking its bleeding wounds.

  Since there was little light under the dense trees Chad had to squint in the darkness to try to find what he needed. The rain trickling down his face and into his eyes made the chore even more difficult. There was no doubt the wretched groundhog was beyond healing, but Chad had no idea where he would find the necessary courage to actually put the creature down in such an up close and intimate fashion. He suddenly felt like a murderer planning a crime.

  As he searched for the proper size rock along the side of the road, Chad once again heard the rustling in the undergrowth. He did is best not to let the strange sounds unnerve him as his groping hands finally found what they were looking for. Chad pulled hard on the stone, wrestling it from the damp muddy soil. His hair was now flattened to his head and rain streamed down his face. Chad shook his head to try to shoo away the water droplets. His clothing was likewise sodden.

  He lifted the large rock, carefully holding it on an area that was free of mud and debris in order to maintain a sufficient grip. Chad believed the stone was heavy enough to accomplish the task at hand but it was unfortunately not quite as smooth as he hoped. It had numerous sharp outcroppings which he realized might make the job a bit messier than he would have originally preferred. He began to walk slowly back toward the mortally wounded creature, which was plastered to the middle of the road. As he did so he tried to steel himself for what was to come next.

  As Chad got closer, the creature apparently sensed his approach from behind and sat up once again whistling while making a futile attempt to turn its body to see what was approaching from his blind spot. Chad lifted the heavy rock high above his own head then brought it down hard upon the wounded creature’s skull. He heard a sharp cracking sound as simultaneously, some foul-smelling liquid, likely blood and brain matter, shot from the thing’s head, flew in his direction and coated his shirt, pants, face, and hands with a disgusting, musky-smelling stench.

  His stomach turned over not only from the vile smell but the idea of the nature of the substance that was now was all over him. He turned his head and vomited on the highway. The animal fell to the roadway as Chad dropped the deadly stone and it rolled a few feet away from the creature’s corpse landing next to the steaming puddle of vomit.

  Chad was bent over waiting for his uncontrollable retching to stop. After it finally did, he stood for a moment taking in the horror before him. The grundie was most certainly dead; its ruined body was now just a mass of glistening unrecognizable fur. He had actually killed it although he could scarcely believe it himself. Chad knew if he returned to this same spot in a few days, after the scavengers had done their best to decimate the corpse and numerous other vehicles had run over the remains, there would be nothing left but a flattened mass.

  “Road pizza” is what he had often jokingly called such a sight. He had seen such similar creatures squashed flat countless times before. Whenever he and his wife were driving and saw such an unidentifiable furry pancake along a road they often simply referred to it as “a dead”; as in a dead skunk or a dead raccoon or a dead groundhog. But since it was no longer identifiable, they just called it “a dead.” And what he now saw on the highway definitely fit into that particular category. At those previous times when he had said “a dead” it had seemed funny in the darkest of senses. But now nothing about what he saw seemed in any way funny to him.

  He picked up the large rock and turned to return it to its original location as there was no point in having some other car strike the stone and blow out a tire or perhaps cause an accident. As he did so he heard a chorus of wild hissing, chittering, and whistling coming from the woods beyond. He also thought he saw many sets of glowing eye staring at him from the underbrush.

  Grundies! He thought, realizing that the now dead creature likely had been part of a larger community and perhaps even had left baby groundhogs behind. Seething with anger and frustration at the unpleasant situation he had found himself forced into, Chad hurled the boulder with all of his strength in the direction of the woods secretly hoping to hear one of the things screech in pain as the stone found its mark; although all he heard was the creatures scattering with fear it gave him a great deal of satisfaction.

  Chad was no longer feeling quite like himself; at least not the man he thought he was. The events of the day made him feel very different; as if he had earned his rightful place at the top of the food chain. Despite his earlier reservations, Chad now fe
lt some deeply hidden recessive and primal rush of adrenalin, which he assumed primitive man must have felt when hunting for his food.

  He could smell his own sweat mixed with the raw, woodsy stench from the felled creature and it made him feel savage and alive in a way he had never felt before. His breathing was deep and seemed to echo in the now silent woods. Then the rush faded quickly and Chad’s momentary emotions of being master of all he surveyed likewise began to dissipate.

  Now he suddenly realized he was transforming back to being just regular white-collar Chad standing in the middle of a highway with stinking groundhog gunk all over him, wild-eyed like a madman panting and sweating like a rutting hog. Although he still felt the slight remnants of the previous euphoria, he was rapidly coming back to reality.

  His mind now returning to its proper perspective, Chad realized that as soon as he could find a cell phone signal he was going to have to reschedule his meeting, likely changing it until the following morning. After the trying day he had experienced so far, Chad was certain he would need to find a roadside rest stop or somewhere to clean up to the best of his ability and then find a hotel to crash for the night.

  He planned on taking the longest and hottest shower he had ever taken in his life and then would find a way to dump all of his soiled clothing in a trashcan or dumpster somewhere. He had no intention of taking them home for his wife to wash; not with all the grundie gunk on them. Next he planned on finding a bar and drinking very heavily before heading back to his room and collapsing early into bed. A good night’s sleep would be just what he needed to make all of the badness of the day go by the wayside. And now, as his adrenalin rush diminished, his strength seemed to wane right along with it.