by Mitch Goth
As the afternoon wore down to dusk, Megan tore through her to-do list. Her parents left early, her friends stopped by to help set things up. Everything was going well. Then, just a half hour shy of the party’s onset, there was one thing left on her mind. She had to stop over to a friend’s house and pick up all the alcohol.
She had collected money from people several days prior and had enough to buy out any sizeable liquor store. The friend had done all the buying and was ready for her to pick it up. So through the light of the fleeting sun, Megan rushed away from the house to reach her friend in time. By the time she got there and got all the liquor stocked into her passenger seat, the sun had gone and only its reddened remnants remained in the sky.
Megan was quick yet cautious on the drive back. The last thing she wanted was to get pulled over for speeding with all the alcohol in her car, much less have to stop suddenly and have any of it break open on her seats or floor. And so, despite her desire to get back home fast, Megan took it slow and steady. Sure enough, she was unimpeded by both law enforcement and fellow drivers through most of her journey. It wasn’t until she was on the home stretch did anything get in her way. Unfortunately for her, it was a big thing blocking her path.
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” Megan groaned as she slowed down her car to avoid getting too close to an RV parked in the road, hazards blazing. As she drew closer, the driver came out waving a road flare at her. She shielded her eyes from the brightness. “As if I can’t see you well enough, God."
In a matter of moments, Megan found that she had to stop, as the driver with the flare had paused right in front of her car. She prayed that he didn't expect help from her. Megan had neither the expertise nor the time to do anything more than drive past this man. But to be courteous, she rolled down her window as he walked up to her door.
“Hey there,” a lanky, bald, bespectacled man greeted her through her window, “sorry about this.”
His smile seemed inviting to her, but his voice struck her as odd. It was soft, and rather shaky, as if he were speaking not only to her, but to a massive crowd.
“It’s fine.” she nodded. “What’s the issue?”
“I’m not sure.” the man shifted his tiny, gold-rimmed glasses up his face. “You think you can give me a hand or two?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Megan shook her head. “I don’t know about cars, much less any kind of RV or somethin’ like that.”
“Well, I’m not asking for much, just someone to hold a flashlight for a bit. It’s getting kinda dark out here.”
“Sorry, but I really gotta get going.” Megan saw the light of her house in the distance, and yet she was held up by this odd talking man and his RV trouble.
“Where are you off to?” The man leaned in closer to her, speaking suspiciously. “It can’t be anywhere too important for you to avoid helping a fellow human, can it?”
“My family told me never to talk to strangers anyway,” Megan retorted, getting annoyed.
“I’m sure they did.” The man peered to her passenger seat. “Did they also tell you not to drink alcohol?”
“I don’t have to sit here and listen to this shit.” Megan put her car in drive.
“Actually, you do.” He stopped her before she could do anything by pulling out a familiar piece of metal with the city PD stamp on it, the last thing she wanted to see.
“Oh, shit,” Megan got a lump in her throat.
“Step outta the car, kid,” the man demanded.
“Can’t you give me a break? I’m only tryin’ to have a little fun.”
“I said get out, now!”
Without another word, Megan put the car back in park and got out. Before she was able to move out of the way or shut her door, the tall man shoved her aside and delved into the vehicle, pulling out a large bottle of whiskey.
“Can’t you let me out of this one?” she was mortified. If there wasn’t any alcohol, her party would be ruined, and all her friends were out a hefty amount of money.
“I’m not in the business of letting people go,” the man retorted, looking down at the bottle for a moment. It seemed like he was weighing it in his hand. He down the road both ways.
Megan, confused by this man’s gaze, did the same out of pure curiosity. She looked the way she came. There was no one. Down towards her house, there was no one. She returned from the scan more confused than she’d gone into it. What was he looking for?
Before she could ask him about it, the man swung the large bottle of alcohol and shattered it against her head. Megan dropped to the hard, hot concrete in an instant. For a moment she was dazed; her vision was blurry and she was numb. The first thing that came to her was a massive throbbing in her skull, followed by a much subtler feeling. It was a warm wetness on her forehead. The sensation ran down her cheek and across her lips. It wasn’t until she tasted the familiar thick, iron-flavored ooze did she know what it was.
“Oh God.” She groaned, lifting herself a few inches off the asphalt. “Fuck. What kind of cop are you?”
She got a rough tug on her hair. Megan let out a yelp as she was lifted upright and thrown against the fender of her car. Now she was staring her attacker in the face through the one eye that wasn’t obstructed by blood.
“Do you still think I’m a fucking cop?” the man asked. Even in his harshest tone, she could still tell that his nervousness was there, as if he were excited to the point of tremors. “I'm sure this looks real.” He held up the badge. “But it’s the farthest thing from it.”
Megan took a few moments to look at the badge. It still looked real to her. But then she took notice of something else, something far more frightening. The bottoms of each of the man’s fingers were scarred horribly. At first, she wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it didn't take long for her to understand it. This man had no fingerprints left. His hands were as bald as his head. There was no evidence to leave behind. The man was not a cop, and this was not a game. She was in far deeper than a tough blow to the head.
“What the hell do you want?” she asked, trying to hide her fears.
“So eager.” He pulled her up by her hair once more, forcing another shriek out of her. Once she was off of the fender, the man opened up her car and put it in drive, sending it idling away from them. For a moment, he kept her held in the air, pain in her face and tears in her eyes, as he watched the small car roll towards the ditch. It scraped across the back of the RV before falling into the ditch, causing him to cringe. “Look what your car did.” He pointed to the scratches on his paint job. She kept her eyes closed, in both pain and defiance of the man’s rules. Fed up with waiting, he lifted her further, only to throw her back down to the pavement, head first.
At first, Megan only heard a loud crack as her head struck the ground. Once more, she spent a moment in a daze. When she came out of it, all Megan heard the man’s yell.
“Look at it!” he commanded.
She opened her eyes and looked at the RV. Her vision was too hazy for her to comprehend any damage on it, but she was willing to fake it to avoid another toss to the concrete.
“I’m sorry,” she said, spitting out blood. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please just let me be."
“Oh, honey.” He yanked her up by her long blonde hair once more. “If I did that there wouldn’t be anything fun about it.” He giggled like a child.
She felt him turn away from her. Once more, she opened her eyes. Although her vision hadn't come all the way back, she was able to make out bright headlights in the distance. She knew that he saw them too, so whatever would happen would happen quickly.
Before she could act, she felt a massive tug backwards as he dragged her towards the motor home. But as she was pulled and bounced around, she kept her eyes on the approaching car. Megan screamed to anything in earshot. Most of it wasn’t in the realm of comprehension; she had no time for that. She just needed to be found, and quick. Her throat burned with the intensity of the yells, but still nothing c
ame to her aid. While the headlights were still far in the distance, Megan was pulled up into the RV and shuttered off from the outside world.
9
