Butcher Road

by Jon Athan

  Anna slowly blinked as she rubbed the nape of her neck. The force of the sudden stop whiplashed her head. She held her other hand to her chest. Each heartbeat was rapid, echoing through her entire body. She could hear the thumping palpitations thrumming in her ears. The young woman was discomfited.

  Anna said, “I... I think I'm okay. I think–” She gazed into Austin's eyes, then she sobbed into her hands. In a slur of words, she said, “I... I don't know... I didn't... What... What the hell did he want? Why... Why did he do this to us, Austin? What did we do?”

  Austin caressed her hair and softly shushed. He said, “Don't cry, Anna. Please, don't cry.” He examined her neck and her face, searching for any visible wounds. Fear seemed to be her ultimate ailment. Austin said, “Listen, I think you're okay. You're fine, sweetheart. You just wait here and rest. Recompose yourself, okay? I'm going to make sure he's gone. Wait here.”

  Anna grabbed Austin's forearm. With wide eyes, she asked, “You're going out there?”

  “I have to. I have to make sure he's really gone. Just wait here. I'll be right back.”

  Anna leaned back in her seat and stuttered, “O–Okay...”

  Austin slowly exited the vehicle. His legs wobbled with his first few steps, like if his limbs changed into noodles during the crash. The anxiety and fear blending in his body concocted a formula of uncontrollable giddiness. With his limp legs, he trudged towards the road. The photographer narrowed his eyes as he stared down the interstate. He couldn't see a single car light and the racket from the engine vanished.

  He whispered, “He's gone... Who are you? What do you want from us?” Dejected, he shook his head and kicked at the pebbles on the road. He muttered, “Damn it...”

  Austin hopped as he felt a moist hand grab his wrist. Wide-eyed, he stared back at the source, then he sighed in relief. Anna, disconsolate and scared, stood behind Austin and tugged on her boyfriend's arm. She wanted to withdraw from the front-lines and retreat back to their vehicle. She shuddered from the fear and frigid conditions, but she refused to release Austin's arm.

  Anna said, “Come on. Let's go back to the car. There's nothing for us out here.”

  Austin opened his mouth to respond, then he stopped. He furrowed his brow as he stared into Anna's lusterless eyes. Anna was baffled by his erratic behavior, tilting her head like a confused pup. Austin glanced over his shoulder, staring down the truck's getaway route. He weaved and bobbed his head for a better view, like if the motions would help him see through the pitch-black night. He could see a set of lights approaching from afar – white specks on a black canvas.

  Austin said, “Someone's coming...”

  Chapter Nine

  A Glimmer in the Darkness

  Austin and Anna staggered back towards the sedan, shocked and horrified. The thought running through their minds was the same: he's coming back to finish the job. Anna lurched towards their car until she tumbled near the trunk. Austin stood at the side of the road, paralyzed by his fear. His fight-or-flight response caused him to freeze. He found himself trapped in the center; his body wanted to grapple, his mind wanted to run.

  As she crawled in reverse, Anna shouted, “Austin! What are you doing?! What are you waiting for?!” Austin did not respond – his vocabulary was wiped like an extinct language. Anna sniveled as she said, “Please... Austin...”

  As the headlights approached, Austin shuddered and slowly shook his head. His imagination ran wild, leading him to believe a hearse from Hell was approaching to pick him up. To his utter surprise, the approaching vehicle was more like a chariot from Heaven. A black police cruiser with a yellow stripe across the side rolled to a stop next to the crash site.

  Austin turned towards Anna and said, “It's the police... It's the police, Anna. It's the damn highway patrol!”

  Anna nervously chuckled as she staggered to her feet. She had never been happier to meet an officer of the law – a doting guardian angel. She was rendered speechless by her overwhelming relief. She could only smile as she sauntered to Austin's side. She watched as a state trooper stepped out of the police cruiser.

  The burly man stood a respectable six-one. He had a shaved dome and glistering blue eyes. He wore a standard police uniform – a dark navy shirt, navy trousers, a utility belt, and black insulated boots. A badge and an embroidered tag dangled from his chest. The name tag read: S. Anderson. The officer seemed stern but kind.

  Anderson sniffled, then he approached the couple. He said, “You seem to have dropped yourselves into a little problem. You guys need any assistance? Or do you have it all handled?”

  Austin frantically waved, then he said, “I know we're going to sound crazy, officer, but please listen to us. We were... We were chased off the road by some madman! He rammed us with his truck! A... A red truck. He killed someone, too. I mean, we think it was the same guy who killed the cashier at the gas station and that couple over at the other accident. He's... He's killing everyone on this goddamn road.”

  Anderson furrowed his brow, overwhelmed by the copious amount of information gyrating into his ears. He said, “Alright, slow down. Take a deep breath, young man. What exactly are you talking about here?”

  Sniffling with tears streaming down her cheeks, Anna said, “We called you once already. We reported this man for killing the cashier at... at Otto's Gas Station or something like that. You must have heard something about it. The lady, the operator, she said you'd meet us at the diner. Please, tell me you can help us. Please.”

  Anderson raised his brow as he examined the distraught couple and the scene. A small crash, a few bruises, plenty of tears, and shared hysteria painted a suspicious portrait. Drugs, alcohol, insanity, or all of the above, he thought. Before he could blurt out an accusation, the officer's eyes widened – an epiphany.

  Anderson smiled and whispered, “The diner... Shit...” He turned his attention to the couple and said, “Okay, let's just step back and try to relax. I understand the situation. Well, I know what you're talking about. You're the ones that called in the accident and the gas station robbery?”

  Anna stomped and shouted, “It wasn't a robbery, it was a murder!”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down, miss. We received the call, but we've had a busy night. There might have been some miscommunication along the way, too. I apologize for that. We should have an officer moving up to the crash site soon. You said it was a few miles before the station, right?”

  Austin nodded and said, “Yeah.”

  “Well, in that case, he should be there any minute now. In fact, he's probably there now. So, I'm going to grab a flare from my car, okay? I'll come back and get the rest of your story in a minute. Are both of you okay? Do you need any medical assistance?”

  Austin and Anna glanced at each other. The pair were bothered by the day and bruised by the crash, but they did not require an ambulance. The resilient duo could trudge through the aches and saunter towards safety without paramedics. With the police officer's presence, at least the pair found some solace and security.

  Austin said, “We're fine.”

  Anderson retrieved a road flare from his trunk. He struck the coarse surface of the cap on the flare, like if he were lighting a match to smoke a cigarette. The flare illuminated the area with a vibrant red glow, vanishing the shadows. He tossed the flare on the ground to warn other drivers, then he turned his attention to Austin and Anna.

  Anderson said, “I have a few questions for you two. First and foremost, do you have any weapons on you?” Austin and Anna shook their heads. Anderson nodded and said, “Good. Have you been drinking tonight? Did you take any drugs? Marijuana? Cocaine? Heroin? Or–”

  Austin interrupted, “We don't have any guns and we don't do drugs. Why are you treating us like criminals? We witnessed a murder. I'd think that would be at the top of your priorities. I mean, the guy is getting away as we speak. You probably drove right past him.”

  “It's only procedure. I don't know if you're armed or if you're hopped up on drugs.
Secondly, you said a red truck rammed you off the road. I didn't see a truck coming down by here for miles. So, although we are investigating your very serious claims, we have to approach this from every angle. Now, do you mind if I check the vehicle for any drugs or weapons?”

  Anna huffed and rolled her eyes, then she said, “You can check all you want, but you'd just be wasting your time.”

  Anderson smiled and said, “Thank you, miss. We'll get to your–”

  Anderson was interrupted by his radio. He lifted his index finger to the couple – one moment, please. The officer stepped towards the trunk, holding the radio on his chest. He indistinctly murmured as he kept his eyes locked on Austin and Anna. He was vigilant. The pair could hear bits and pieces of the quiet conversation from afar, but not nearly enough. Austin stepped closer, Anna followed his lead.

  Over the radio, a male officer said, “I'm at the gas station now, Anderson. There was no station wagon back on the road and Otto's is closed right now. I've called Hank to see what's going on. I'm sure this place should be open now. Other than that, there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong around here. I have no signs of a 187 anywhere.”

  Anderson responded, “10-4. I may have a 5150 in my hands, possibly a–”

  Confounded by the officer's response, Austin shouted, “I swear, that man slaughtered the cashier! He killed those people in the station wagon! He slaughtered them! We're not crazy! We're not crazy!”

  Anderson held his hands up in a peaceful gesture, calling for silence. He said, “Calm down, sir. We're investigating–”

  Anna interrupted, “You're not investigating! You think we're stupid! You think we're crazy, don't you? 5150? We know what it means. We're not crazy.” She sobbed as she staggered back, contemplating an explanation – searching for a missing detail. As a bulb illuminated above her head, Anna said, “Go... Go back and ask the truckers. Go to the diner and ask the truckers. They know all about this man and his killing spree. There's a psycho out here trying to kill us, officer. Please, believe me...”

  Austere, Anderson sternly said, “Alright, that's enough. Look, I'll get you off this road. I'll take you down to the closest station or checkpoint. We'll get this sorted out there. Does that sound good to you?”

  Austin lifted his arm and stepped in reverse, gently pushing Anna back. He didn't trust the police officer. '5150,' a code for mentally disturbed people, clung to his mind. Under the circumstances, entering the backseat of the police cruiser was like buying a ticket to jail. He refused to sell his freedom for an uncertain trade.

  Austin said, “If you really believe us, if you really want to take us to safety, you'll let us follow you there in our car. We're not wearing your handcuffs and we're not getting into the backseat. We'll follow your directions, we'll follow you, but we're not getting into your car.”

  Anderson responded, “No one said anything about handcuffs, sir.”

  “You didn't have to.”

  Anderson huffed in disbelief, mystified by the couple's erratic behavior. He furrowed his brow and said, “You see, now you're acting suspicious.”

  Austin explained, “We... We were told not to trust hitchhikers, but I think that rule applies to you, too.”

  Anderson chuckled, then he asked, “You don't trust me?”

  ***

  With the milky moonlight washing over their bodies, the trio were caught in a grueling deadlock. Only the whooshing wind sliced through the eerie silence. Anderson sought to take the couple into temporary custody – with or without handcuffs. Austin wanted to keep himself and his girlfriend free to maneuver. He refused to willingly restrain himself with a vicious murderer on the loose.

  One hand on his belt, Anderson scratched his eyebrow and shook his head as he approached the apprehensive duo. Austin could see the officer's hand drifting towards the holstered handgun. The state trooper would not draw and shoot without provocation, but he was more than willing to apprehend the couple through force.

  Anderson said, “Listen, I don't want to do this the hard way. We can sit here and grapple until I get you into custody or we can wait for backup to arrive, but I'd rather just take you out of here the easy way. Let me pat you down, you hop into my car, then I drive you down to a station. It's that simple. You have my word.”

  Anna said, “Nothing's that 'simple' around here. We thought picking up a hitchhiker would be simple and he turned out to be a maniac. We just want to leave. You understand? We don't want any more trouble. We were heading to Vegas for work, that's all.”

  “Alright, alright. I get it. So, here's what I can do for you. I'm going to need your cooperation, though. You can get into your car and head north. I'll follow behind you until we hit a checkpoint or until I receive an update. As long as you stay in my headlights, there won't be any problems. Sound good?”

  Austin and Anna glanced at each other with deadpan expressions – steady faces of relief. The police officer's offer was sincere and appreciated. He was not as devious as originally imagined. He was simply taking all precautions while on duty – understandable. The pair nodded in agreement.

  Anderson rubbed his hands together and said, “Great. I still have to pat you down, though. So, let's get this–”

  The sound of a sputtering engine disrupted the deal. The roaring grew louder with each passing second, like the rumbling stomach of a starved man amplified tenfold. The booming engine was accompanied by a blaring horn. The vehicular racket rapidly increased in volume. Anderson glanced over Austin's shoulder and tilted his head. He could see the headlights of a truck approaching from afar.

  Austin's eyes widened as he recognized the ruckus. He didn't have to look back to know who was approaching. The truck left a permanent imprint on his fractured psyche. The day was already filed under 'unforgettable' in his mind. Anna grimaced as she wept. She recognized the approaching sound of death.

  Anderson strolled towards the pair and murmured, “What the hell is this guy doing?”

  Austin said, “We have to go.”

  Anderson glanced at Austin with a furrowed brow and asked, “What?”

  “It's a truck, isn't it? We have to go. If it's a red truck, then that's the hitchhiker or his brother. We have to go. We have to get the hell out of here.”

  Anderson stared at the approaching headlights, mystified. He nodded at the begrimed sedan on the side of the road, motioning his demands – go on, run. Austin and Anna watched the valiant officer with narrowed eyes, astonished. The officer moseyed towards danger with his hand on his holster. He walked ahead of the couple, then he drew his handgun. He could see the truck was approaching without any intention to stop.

  Anderson whispered, “What the hell are you doing, buddy?” As the truck hurtled towards the crash site, the officer shouted, “Stop! Stop!”

  Anderson stepped aside as the truck charged forward. He gritted his teeth and fired three rounds at the truck – one penetrated the windshield, the others missed. The gunfire did not stall the speeding vehicle. The officer attempted to leap out of the way, but he was caught by the truck's massive range. Anderson was tossed five meters into the air like a flimsy rag doll. The truck barreled through him like a wrecking ball smashing through dry wall. The thud and crunching sound reverberated as his body collided with the pavement.

  Austin and Anna jumped out of the way, sliding across the dirt as the truck drove off the road. The couple slipped and slid as they rushed towards their sedan. They could hear the truck skidding to a stop, bouncing on the rutted dirt and driving over the dried shrubs.

  Austin turned the key in the ignition, struggling to start the car. Anna locked the doors, then she buckled her seat belt. The belt was supposed to prevent serious accidents, but she had hoped the safety strap would keep her restrained to the seat if she had to fight off a crazed hitchhiker.

  Anna frantically tapped Austin's forearm and said, “Hurry, hurry, hurry...”

  Frustrated, Austin shouted, “I'm trying!”

  Anna stared in shock as
a colossal man climbed out of the driver's seat of the truck – Clyde Hooper. The figure stood a towering six-seven with a wide frame. The person was clearly heavy. His weight and strength were undeniable. He appeared powerful enough to move mountains with a flick of his finger. With the limited moonlight, she could see the figure had wild hair – strands protruding every which way. The corpulent man held a large tool in his hands – a spear, an ax, a hammer?

  Another fairly tall figure emerged from the other side of the truck. The man was leaner than the driver. The passenger hobbled beside the larger man, limping towards the road. The slim figure was easily recognizable, even through the darkness. Dante, Anna thought, that must be Dante and his brother.

  As the car engine purred, Austin ecstatically said, “There!”

  The sedan bounced as the photographer heedlessly reversed. He returned to the road, then he sped away from the commotion. As he glanced at the rear-view mirror, he stomped on the brakes. The pair were flung forward from the sudden stop. He sought an escape from the madness, he wanted a head start, but the helpful officer caught his eye.

  Anderson writhed in pain on the road. He was not killed upon impact – not by the truck or the pavement. The tough and brave man survived the head-on collision. His handy firearm, however, was lost in the shadows. His only advantage against death was out of arm's reach. The ominous figures from the truck slowly approached, taunting the downed officer. They mocked the helpless man, dancing and spitting around him.

  Austin asked, “Should... Should we help him?”

  Eyes full of tears, Anna stared out the back window and responded, “It's too late.”

  Austin nodded and stepped on the gas pedal, reluctantly cruising away from the crime. He didn't glance at the rear-view mirror again. He wanted to save himself and his girlfriend. The couple's survival was his top priority. If he glanced back, he was afraid he'd feel compelled to return to the scene.