18 Wheels of Horror

by Eric Miller

  “Kyle, don’t.” Dex grabbed his arm.

  Kyle looked at Dex’s hand. Dex let go. “There’s a ton of food in there. They’re not gonna miss one. And I’m fucking starving.”

  Kyle bit the burger, devouring half of it at once. Cheese dripped onto his finger. He licked it off.

  God, it looked good.

  What the hell? There are so many in the damn chest. They won’t miss two.

  Dex grabbed a burger and bit into it.

  Amazing.

  “Best burger I’ve had in a while.”

  Kyle swallowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Cheddar cheese. Bacon. Medium rare. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

  “Can’t handle your weed, huh? It’s not a fucking burger. It’s fried chicken strips.”

  Sure they’d had some weed. And the good shit, at that. But Dex felt fine. Kyle had hit the stuff harder than he had.

  “You must be high. It’s a bacon cheeseburger.”

  “Look in that thing, Dex. It’s a pile of the hottest, crispiest fried chicken strips I’ve ever seen. Best dinner in the world.” Kyle took another bite.

  Dex checked the chest again.

  No chicken. Just burgers. Steaming hot. Crispy bacon. Awesome.

  But how did they get so hot?

  Who the hell cares? Keep eating.

  He took another bite.

  “You’re telling me you see a bunch of fried chicken strips?”

  “Yes.” Kyle wiped his mouth with his hand.

  “Well, I see bacon cheeseburgers.”

  “You’re high.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then you’re an idiot.”

  Something was off.

  Dex dropped the burger and jumped out of the truck. He needed to be away from the smell. Needed to clear his head.

  “Aren’t you gonna finish?” Kyle said.

  Dex wanted to. He really did. But the burger/chicken thing seemed off.

  That’s an understatement.

  “No. And I think you should stop, too.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I see burgers where you see chicken. Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

  “Yeah, but who cares? I’m hungry.” Kyle grabbed another burger. Or chicken strip. Or whatever.

  This is definitely messed up.

  “You’ve gotta stop, Kyle. Even if we didn’t see different things, this is not our food. We’ve got a job to do.”

  Kyle inhaled the food in two bites. Wiped his hand on his pants. “Fine, man. Done. I should be good for the rest of the trip.”

  He closed the pine chest and found an extra roll of packing tape. After sealing the large box, he grabbed Dex’s half-eaten burger.

  “You sure you don’t want this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shoved it in his mouth as he jumped down and closed the door.

  He patted Dex on the back with two heavy thumps. “Ready?”

  They got in the cab and continued on their way.

  “You’re not even a little freaked out?” Dex said.

  “I’ll tell you what I am.” Kyle let out a low rumble of a burp. “I’m fucking satisfied. That’s what I am.”

  “Fine.”

  “I mean, sure, it’s weird. But I was hungry. There was food. I ate it. Now I’m not hungry.”

  Airtight logic, if there ever was any.

  “All right.”

  “Don’t get your panties all bunched up, Dex. There was so much food in there, they won’t even notice.”

  “But you saw chicken and I saw burgers.”

  “What can I say, man? You really need to lay off the weed.”

  “Shut up, Kyle.”

  That damn laugh.

  ***

  They drove in silence for another hour, the winding, tree-laced roads keeping Dex alert, but also giving him time to ponder the pine chest. None of it made sense. The weird guy. His huge tip. Cheeseburgers. Chicken. Who knew? Maybe his brother had put something extra in that marijuana.

  Kyle’s stomach rumbled, louder than the last time.

  “What the hell, man?”

  “Don’t know,” Kyle said. “Guess I need some more chicken.”

  “No way.”

  Kyle laughed. “Just fucking with you, man. I can make it.”

  But in the next few minutes, Kyle’s stomach wouldn’t shut up. Then he doubled over.

  “You okay?” Dex said. His stomach started making some noise, too.

  Kyle moaned. “Don’t know. Never been this hungry in my life.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Uh-huh. It hurts. Please, man,” he said. “You gotta pull over again.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Just one piece, I swear.” Kyle groaned.

  Dex shook his head. “Fine.” He pulled the truck over.

  Kyle scrambled out of the door, as Dex grabbed the Maglite. By the time Dex got to the back, Kyle had opened the door and sliced the packing tape of the big box. He shoved the peanuts aside and opened the pine chest.

  “What the hell?” Dex said.

  The light revealed a bunch of doughnuts.

  Kyle’s hand, already in the chest, grabbed a glazed one.

  “Kyle. Don’t.”

  “But I love chocolate chip cookies. They’re warm, too.”

  “You see cookies?”

  “You don’t?”

  “I see doughnuts,” Dex said. “This is crazy. You can’t eat that.”

  “I’m so fucking hungry.”

  Pain hit Dex’s stomach. An intense hunger cramp like he’d never felt.

  Holy hell.

  “It was chicken and burgers before. Now it’s cookies and doughnuts. Something is seriously wrong with this chest.”

  “I don’t really give a—” Kyle dropped to his knees. Grabbing at his stomach, he groaned and grunted. He doubled over, swearing.

  Then he shoved the food in his mouth. Chewed a little. He leaned on the wall of the truck, eyes closed. He swallowed. Sighed. Opened his eyes. “Much better.”

  Dex massaged his stomach, the cramping becoming more like shredding.

  “You should eat something, too,” Kyle said.

  The chest was freaking Dex out, but his stomach: the growling, the wrenching, the twisting. Like something clawing at his insides. Primal urges outweighed logic. He ate a doughnut.

  And the pain disappeared.

  “Shit.” Kyle closed the chest, re-taped the heptagonal box, and closed the door. “I think we’re done here.”

  “Hell, yeah.” Dex fished the keys from his pocket, and they hustled to the cab. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know, man. I’ve never been that hungry before in my life.”

  “Me, either.” Dex started the engine. “Where did all those sweets come from? I thought we were delivering burgers—or chicken.”

  “Who knows? But I’m thinking we need to get the hell away from that box. How much longer we got?”

  Dex pulled onto the road. “Less than two hours. Hopefully that snack’ll tide us over until we get there.”

  “Where is ‘there,’ anyway?”

  “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

  “That guy was a freak. I just wanted to get out of there. And based on what’s going on with that box, I think I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Dex swerved around a dead raccoon. “Potsdam.”

  “Is it as middle-of-fucking-nowhere as this?” Kyle gestured out the window.

  “It’s pretty far out there, but we should be able to find a diner and a hotel, if you feel like crashing for a bit.”

  “After this crazy night? I think I just wanna go home.”

  Dex didn’t disagree.

  ***

  Under an hour from Potsdam, Dex’s stomach growled again.

  “No way, man.” Kyle stared at him. “You can’t possibly be hungry.”

  Anot
her growl.

  “Shit!” Dex slammed the steering wheel. “What the hell is going on?”

  Kyle grabbed his stomach. “Mine’s doing it again, too. There’s gotta be someplace to eat around here. Someplace not involving that box.” He took out his phone.

  “I’ve done this route a bunch for Fitch. There’s nothing until Potsdam.”

  “Dammit.” Kyle tapped on the screen of his phone for another minute or two. “Nothing.”

  “That’s what I just said.” Fear and panic mixed with the anger in Dex’s voice. More sweat formed on his upper lip. His pulse pounded again. If his body followed the same pattern as last time, that stomach pain would set in at any minute. And it would be bad. Real bad. Dex didn’t know if he could deal with it one more time.

  “All right, man. All right. Calm down.” Kyle didn’t speak for a minute. Then he said, “Okay. Here’s the deal. We go back to the box one more time.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Just hear me out. The hunger waves seem to come every hour or so, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we’ve got a little less than an hour until we get there, right?”

  Dex looked at the clock on the dash. “Yeah.”

  “So we go to the box and grab a snack. That’ll keep us full until we get there. We deliver the package. Good fucking riddance. And that’s about the time we’ll be hungry again. We find that diner and, boom, we’re done. We can order a bunch of stuff to go for the ride back.”

  Usually calm in a crisis, Dex had trouble focusing, his hunger becoming his only concern. But damned if Kyle’s reasoning didn’t make sense.

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah?” Kyle said.

  “Yeah. Let’s do it. Before that pain comes back.”

  Dex pulled the truck over and grabbed the flashlight, the noises in his stomach threatening to turn into cramps.

  Kyle climbed into the trailer and opened the big box. His hand flew up to cover his mouth and nose.

  “What’s that smell?”

  The scent of rot filled Dex’s nose. Still standing on the ground, he waved the Maglite around to see if they’d hit anything. Or if anything had already been hit.

  Nothing.

  “I don’t think it’s coming from out here.” He hopped up next to Kyle, who opened the pine chest.

  “Oh my god,” Kyle said. “It’s dog shit. A fucking pile of dog shit!” He jumped out of the truck.

  Dex didn’t see dog shit. The box held what seemed to be an old turkey carcass, moldy and quivering. But it wasn’t really quivering. A bunch of maggots moved en masse around the carcass.

  Dex dry heaved. Which seemed to be at odds with his growling stomach. He slammed the lid of the chest shut, fumbled with the packing tape, and sealed the big box.

  He jumped out of the truck and closed the door. Kyle lay on the ground, writhing and twisting, coughing and hacking.

  Hunger’s vice grip seized Dex’s stomach. The sensation of tearing, shredding. All started again. He dropped the Maglite and fell to the ground next to Kyle.

  The pain soon subsided enough for them to sit.

  “What the hell are we going to do now?” Dex said.

  Kyle looked at him without speaking.

  Is he eyeballing my leg?

  “I got it,” Kyle said.

  “What?”

  “The glove box.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s got ketchup packets.” Kyle stood and rubbed his stomach.

  “That’s not gonna do anything.”

  “Better’n nothing.” He disappeared. Doors opened and closed. He returned and threw three packets in Dex’s lap.

  “That’s all?”

  “Yup. Six altogether.” Kyle held up three other packets. “Three for you, three for me. Dig in.”

  But the ketchup brought back the pain. As Dex went fetal, Kyle walked toward him, a weird look in his eyes.

  “Get the hell away from me,” Dex said through groans.

  “It’s all right, man.” Kyle knelt next to him. “We’ll get through this.” He put his hand on Dex’s arm and squeezed. A tight squeeze.

  Dex felt for the Maglite. As soon as he found it, he swung.

  After it hit Kyle’s head, Dex blacked out, the pain overwhelming him.

  ***

  Dex woke to a headache and sore hand.

  But no stomach pain. In fact, he was more sated than he’d been the whole night.

  He sat up and looked around, but the sun still hadn’t risen yet.

  “Kyle?” Dex’s sticky lips tasted strange. Unfamiliar.

  He got up and walked to the driver’s side door. As he turned the corner, the Maglite lay on the ground, still lit. It shone on a body.

  He hustled over to see Kyle, facedown in a pool of blood.

  “Kyle!” Dex turned him over.

  His bloody, swollen face reminded Dex what he’d done before blacking out. But the guilt didn’t come.

  Son of a bitch was gonna eat me. Self fucking defense.

  He scanned the rest of Kyle’s body. A dark patch on Kyle’s inner thigh gave him pause. He grabbed the Maglite.

  “Holy shit!”

  Blood had begun to dry over a shredded, messy hole.

  Dex licked his lips. Sweet. Metallic.

  “Oh my god!”

  He jumped over the body and scrambled into the cab. Adjusting the mirror, he shone the light on his face. Blood covered his mouth. Dry bits of…something stuck to his cheeks.

  Memories from after the blackout started to come: swinging the Maglite again, straddling Kyle’s chest, throwing more punches. Kyle’s still body. Chest barely moving. His summer clothes revealing bare arms and legs, thick and meaty.

  Dex waited for the gorge to rise in this throat, but it didn’t. A strange calm settled over him. He took the wipes from the glove box, tearing open each one and cleaning his face as best he could.

  The dashboard clock read 5:00 AM. Almost two hours since he’d last eaten. No pain yet. He felt good. Strong. But a whisper of a stomach rumble told him he would need to eat again. Soon.

  As he climbed out of the cab and stepped over Kyle’s body, a faint odor of smoke hit his nose.

  Maglite in hand, he passed the back of the truck, the door still raised.

  The big box was open, but the chest was gone.

  What the fuck?

  Another memory, faint and foggy, came to him: dark sunglasses and spindly hands, clutching pine. And a whispered voice saying, “No humility…definitely not worthy.”

  More rumbling. The beginnings of cramping.

  “Fuck it.”

  He followed his nose through the woods. After about a half mile, he found a clearing. Two cars. A fire pit. Two tents.

  No one was by the still-smoking fire.

  Must be sleeping.

  Dex’s stomach started to ache as he approached the site. Two coolers sat by the pit. But he didn’t open them.

  He needed something a little more substantial.

  He unzipped a tent.

  Janet Joyce Holden was born in the North of England, and is a writer of dark, supernatural fiction. She is the author of the novels Carousel, The Only Red Is Blood, and The Origins of Blood vampire series, as well as a number of “on the dark side” short stories. She lives in Southern California, where the true trucking horror is the speed limit…

  TAKE THE NIGHT

  Janet Joyce Holden

  “You think you’ve seen it all? Heard it all?

  I did not simply stare into the abyss.

  I embraced it, and let it whisper in my ear.

  And tonight, I will tell you what I heard,

  I will show you what I saw.

  I will give you everything.”

  DANNY’S HANDS WERE SHAKING. It was the first thing Rob noticed when his friend climbed into the limousine. He also looked thin; even the legendary potbelly had gone.

  “I’ll be fine once we start playing.”

 
“Have you seen a doctor?” Rob had already taken a guess—long-term nerve damage, Parkinson’s maybe, but after another rebuttal he decided to keep a lid on it. Instead, they swapped tales of wives and kids and indulged in the usual industry gossip, all the way up the Interstate until the conversation, as usual, spiraled into one of Danny’s legendary rants.

  “Well, did you read it?”

  Rob nodded. Yes, he’d read it—the latest online screed from their charismatic frontman, Ed Visalli.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “He’s just playing to the crowd.”

  “And what kind of crowd do you think will show up, after this?”

  As if it mattered. Rob figured Ed was simply pulling out all the stops for the last hurrah. They’d had their official, final reunion gig weeks ago, and this was billed as a special encore for their diehard fans. One final moneymaker before they closed the lid on three decades of rock mayhem.

  He settled back and assumed his role as caretaker, while Danny hurled bitter invectives and let off steam. Until finally they pulled in at the venue, and Danny’s barriers were down.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment next week. But don’t tell the others.”

  “Danny—”

  “Shush. Not a word. Not on the final gig. Especially to Ed and Alan.”

  Rob held up his hands. “Swear to God.”

  “Okay, then.”

  They left the vehicle and were approached by two young women bearing clipboards and exuding efficiency. One of them pressed a lanyard into Rob’s hand.

  “To be worn at all times.”

  And just like that, he was sidelined, relegated to a hanger-on.

  Dutifully, he looped the all-access credential around his neck. If nothing else it would serve as a souvenir. His daughter collected them; she had a hundred of them strung on the back of her bedroom door.

  They were backstage and he couldn’t see much, but they’d played here before and he remembered the venue well enough—a natural, open-air auditorium, nestled in the foothills at the eastern edge of the Los Angeles Basin, surrounded by hills of dry brush that did nothing to dampen the acoustics.

  He caught up with the others, climbed the steps, and walked out onto the stage. From here, he could see the entire front of the house and the view made his heart quicken. He waved at the guy on the soundboard, perched on an island in the middle of the arena, and when he turned, he saw Danny grinning from ear to ear. Yeah, he felt it, too. Just a moment between them before Danny was swallowed by a gaggle of technicians about to embark on the final sound check.