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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Ghost Stories / Paranormal
- Published: 01/26/2012
On A Quiet Stretch Of Road
Born 1984, M, from Berlin, Connecticut, United StatesJohn rubbed his eyes and glanced to the digital clock on the dashboard; it was 1:26 AM in neon green letters. Music played softly in the car as John tried to focus on the road. In the passenger seat was his brother Dave, almost three years his junior. The brothers were traveling across the country, from New Hampshire to Las Vegas; they rarely got along for more than a few hours but this time they were pushing days. Dave had wanted to get away, and John had nothing keeping him at home; so they decided to take a trip out to Vegas. They would have taken a plane, but they didn’t have the extra money. That’s why John drove his 1980’s mustang down yet another quiet stretch of road in the American desert. A beeping sound interrupted the music on the radio and intrigued John to turn the volume up. He was trying to be a good driver and stay informed about anything happening in the area, but he also wanted to be a good brother and let Dave sleep. Dave had a short temper and was often cranky when he woke.
“The National Weather Service is tracking a large storm threatening rain, thunder, and lightening. Residents are advised to close the windows in their homes until the storm has passed, and anyone driving should seek shelter immediately. Reports say that the storm is creating a dust cloud that is sweeping through the desert; be extra careful in these areas.” The music turned back on as if nothing had happened, the monotone computerized voice had said its peace and gone.
Unfortunately, the announcement woke Dave from his sleep. He stirred, rubbed his eyes and then dragged his left hand over his head, through his short brown hair. He groaned as he tried to stretch, but his seatbelt was still on and his position had cramped all of his muscles. He looked quickly to John before looking out to the darkness.
“Where are we?” Dave asked as he cracked his knuckles.
“We’re still on the road.” John knew they were still going in the right direction; but stopping for directions would soon be a good idea.
“What does that mean?”
“You didn’t sleep long enough.”
“So much for Vegas.”
“I’ll get us there, don’t worry.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention, there must’ve been signs.”
“It’s dark outside and there’s nothing to see. I don’t remember the last time I actually saw a sign.”
“I should’ve driven.”
“Why, so you can scream at everyone you drive by or flip off a state trooper? Just close your eyes; I’ll wake you at dawn.” Dave cursed under his breath and punched the dashboard, turning the radio off. With a slow stream of blood dripping from his knuckles, Dave turned away in an attempt to sleep. But it didn’t last long; John turned the radio back on softly.
“The National Weather Service is tracking a large storm threatening rain, thunder, and lightening. Residents are advised to close the windows in their homes until the storm has passed, and anyone driving should seek shelter immediately. Reports say that the storm is creating a dust cloud that is sweeping through the desert; be extra careful in these areas.” The announcement came again, no more or less insistent than before. John wanted nothing more than to listen to music; maybe it would help him forget his brother’s constant criticism.
That was when he saw the first sign he could remember since Ohio. It was fitting with the history of the trip that never should’ve happened. John turned the car’s hi-beams on and slowed so that he could read the sign carefully. It was off to the side and weather worn, but he still managed to understand it.
LAKE HOUSE
GAS AND GO CONVIENENCE
OPEN 24 HOURS
NEXT STOP TWENTY MILES
GREAT FOOD AND A FRIENDLY ATMOSPHERE
ONE MILE ON THE LEFT
That’s when the ‘check engine’ light clicked on. Its bright orange glow filled the inside of the car and turned John’s vision red, nothing seemed right. Dave shifted and looked at the dashboard to see the warning light. He moaned something under his breath that he didn’t even know and sat up in the seat. It seemed to take him a few moments to realize what he was seeing.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t you bring this to the shop before we left?”
“Last week, they said everything was fine.”
“I knew it; they always do things so that you’ll have to go back and spend more money. Or they charge so much you might as well just buy a new car.” Dave cursed. “Damned thieves always trying to steal from old women.”
“They’re professionals.”
“Professional con artists.”
“Next time, you bring this car to them. Tell them how you feel, don’t bitch to me.”
“We should’ve gotten a rental.”
“Do you know how much they charge; especially if you plan to leave the state? That would piss you off.” Suddenly the ‘low oil’ and ‘low battery’ lights clicked on. “Oh, shit.” There was a sudden vibration that rocked John’s feet and a loud bang that made Dave jump in his seat. A pop followed immediately after and John lost control of the car. He fought the wheel but couldn’t stop when the car pivoted and dove into a small ditch on the side of the road. The engine died; no matter what John tried it wouldn’t start again. The power was fading too; the last thing the radio managed to utter was, “…reported severe lightening, for your own safety find shelter immediately.”
Once outside of the car, the brothers could see the extent of the damage. A tire had popped on the front passenger side and it appeared as though the axle may have snapped. Worse yet, the car struck a heavy rock and the radiator was smashed; they wouldn’t be able to get the car out on their own. Dave wasn’t happy; he tore his shirt off, exposing the dog tattoo on his back, and screamed obscenities into the night sky. Anything near him was picked up and thrown as far as he could muster; he kicked the car and used a rock to break off the passenger side-mirror.
“Hey!” John yelled at him, though Dave didn’t respond. “You’re going to pay for that. If you want to break something go somewhere so I don’t have to watch. I’m tired of you breaking my things.” Dave stopped moving, though his chest heaved heavily as sweat covered him. Finally he moved to grab his shirt and turned to John.
“What now?”
“I saw a sign for a gas station; it’s less than a mile down the road.”
“Come on!” He was flustered and spoke sharply, John expected no less.
*
The storm was raging around them, blinding them with sand and deafening them with thunder, as the brothers stumbled down the long road. They walked for what felt like hours, each step harder to take than the one before, and only the light from Lake House promised relief.
It was a low building, only one story high, with a neon sign that clearly stated “LAKE HOUSE.” There was a separate island in the parking area where two gas pumps stood like sentries under a small pavilion roof. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, plus a couple of tractor trailers parked on the far side of the building. The only thing that really mattered was the red ‘OPEN’ sign near the door.
When the brothers entered, bringing the sound of the storm with them, everyone turned to see who the new visitors were. But the attention was short lived as everyone returned to their previous conversations. As the door closed behind them, the brothers were able to absorb the place. It was designed to look like a lake house, with wood paneling and a kayak above the counter. The plan had been executed, but time had taken its toll; it looked like a disused and crumbling lake house now.
Dave walked to the counter and sat down as John continued to look around. A large man, built like a weight-lifter, wearing a plaid shirt with the arms cut off and a trucker cap on, turned to Dave. The cap read ‘I’m so red, that’s the color of my neck and my state.’ It was in red font, which matched the thick red hair that made the man’s beard. He had small eyes and his breath reeked of alcohol.
“What did you say to me?” The trucker slurred.
“I didn’t say anything.” Dave said, hardly giving the man any attention; he was more interested in the small menu in front of him.
“Are you calling me a liar?” The trucker’s voice rose, drawing the attention of everyone else including John. Dave remained focused on the menu.
“I’m calling you stupid and drunk.” Dave’s voice had flattened and the muscles in his arms stiffened. John had seen his brother like this before; right before he nearly beat a man to death.
“Be careful what you say, boy.” The trucker had slowly begun to rise from his seat as everyone else was on the edge of theirs. John knew there would be trouble, he made his way across the room but found that the other patrons were blocking him.
“Boy? Has your mom let you grow up, or is your wife stopping you? Or is she your sister; maybe your brother. You southern red-necked idiots make this a horrible place to live; with your NASCAR and inbreeding.” Dave smiled slightly at the man then turned back to the menu. John took a deep breath; he knew where this was leading.
“You must be a Yankee thinking you’re better than me, but I’ll show you.” The trucker balled up his fist and prepared to swing; but by then John had come to intervene.
“Please sir, we just had a car accident and my brother isn’t thinking straight.” John tried to diffuse the situation.
The trucker relaxed, letting his fist open. “He better be careful, before he says the wrong thing to the wrong person.”
“Go back to having sex with your mother.” Dave sneered.
“What did you say?” The trucker was standing now; he towered over the two brothers as the veins in his neck throbbed. John was quick to try and calm the trucker.
“Please, he’s always like this after he sleeps. You look like a smart man; it’s time to walk away.” John put on a friendly smile and patted the trucker on the arm softly. That didn’t go over well with the trucker.
“Nobody punches me and gets away with it!” He growled. The people watching were almost salivating, waiting for the fight they knew was coming.
“I didn’t-” John started to say, but he was interrupted as the man grabbed him and tossed him towards a fake fireplace that was painted onto the wall. John didn’t know how it fit with the motif, but that didn’t concern him as his blood sprayed onto it. There was a loud snap, something was clearly broken.
Dave sat up and looked at his brother; he turned to the trucker just in time to get pushed off the stool and onto the floor. He landed and dust rose around him, but the trucker didn’t come at him again. The wild man looked down as Dave started to stand, angrily pulling his shirt off in the way John’s Irish friends fought. He showed the trucker the tattoo of a black dog on his back, but the big man wasn’t interested. The trucker grunted and turned, John appeared to be the target.
The trucker lifted John by his neck and slammed the older brother against the wall repeatedly. John’s nose broke quickly and blood poured down the front of his face. But that didn’t stop the trucker. He kept slamming John into the floor until his body went limp; then he was dropped so the trucker could kick him in the head a few times.
Dave panicked when he saw what was happening to his brother; for all of his bravado he was afraid to try and save John. Instead; as the trucker started kicking John, Dave ran out into the storm. The sounds of raging wind and cracking of thunder filled the room, but vanished when the door swung shut.
*
Police report that hikers found the body of David Cross early this morning. Cross and his brother had been at the LAKE HOUSE, a gas station and truck stop, two weeks ago. John Cross was killed in the restaurant by a truck driver named Harvey Lee; who claimed self-defense. Statements from witnesses say that David Cross began an argument with Lee; then John came and assaulted him. Fearing for his life, Lee fought back; resulting in John Cross’ death. A county judge acquitted Lee of any wrong-doings in the matter.
Witnesses said that David exited the LAKE HOUSE into the storm, but a search at the time conducted by the local sheriff could find no trace of him. A vehicle belonging to John Cross was found in a ditch less than a mile east of the LAKE HOUSE, though it is unclear how it is involved in this situation.
David Cross’ body was found half buried under fallen brush, the coroner reports that the wounds suggest David was struck by lightening. His entire back was burned black, darkest near the nape of his neck. The body will be shipped to his family home in New Hampshire later this week.
*
One Month Later
Harvey tossed another empty beer can into a bag on the passenger seat and burped, the smell of alcohol was almost intoxicating. He drove the road many times; only once did he have any problems. But the judge said he was innocent, that was relieving. Beating a person to death had weighed heavily on his soul, but once the judge said it was okay he forgot all about it.
He heard a crackle and hiss before a voice came over the CB radio sitting on top of the center of the dashboard. Harvey turned the volume up to listen.
“Heads up, weather service is tracking a severe storm heading in your direction. There are warnings of thunder and lightening, with chances of a wind storm. Better find some place to wait, Harvey. Over.” It was the dispatcher. Harvey picked up the radio.
“Thanks Tommy; there’s a place nearby that serves great steak. I’ll chill there; over.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s the LAKE HOUSE. The judge said to avoid it; over.”
“Then I won’t tell you; out.” Harvey hung the radio back up and opened another can of beer. He emptied it in one long chug and crushed the can with his powerful hand. He saw the sign for the LAKE HOUSE as he tossed the empty can in the bag. He burped again.
Suddenly his radio began to hiss but it sounded like someone was talking. Shaking his head clear, Harvey grabbed the radio.
“Say again, dispatch; over.” The response was just a distorted melody, something a violinist would play. Harvey asked again; this time receiving a clear response.
“You stupid southern home-fried idiot, I never said anything. Maybe this time, you’ll get the message.” All of the warning lights on his dashboard lit up and Harvey grabbed the wheel. There were several popping sounds and the truck jerked; he was having trouble controlling it. He hit the brakes and jumped out of the truck when it had come to a stop.
Harvey wasn’t looking good at that moment; he was covered in sweat and beer stains covered his shirt and pants. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off, but he’d been putting on weight and the shirt was fighting to keep his gut from spilling out. His beard was a mess, full of knots and sticky from a diet of candy bars and beer; and his cap stayed off because he’d been too lazy to get his hair cut.
Harvey wasn’t planning on picking up any women, but when he heard the first howl he wished that he was in better shape. It sounded like a wolf, but he was in the wrong part of the country for that; a coyote perhaps, or some wild dog. He got his answer when he heard the low growl behind him. He slowly turned to see what horror waited for him.
A dog the size of a small car, with black fur and eyes that glowed fire red, bared razor teeth at him. It was unnatural, something that could only be imagined; he was sure he saw it before. It took him only a moment to remember the kid in the LAKE HOUSE with the tattoo.
Lightening cracked and thunder roared, drowning out the demon dog’s growls. When the sound had passed Harvey heard something new; something was dripping behind him. He dared to turn his back on the dog and saw a human-shaped figure standing nearby. Blood continued to pour from his long dead body as his black eyes promised pain.
“I’m sorry.” Harvey managed to say.
“It’s too late for that.” John said. The thunder drowned Harvey’s screams.
On A Quiet Stretch Of Road(Michael Bertolini)
John rubbed his eyes and glanced to the digital clock on the dashboard; it was 1:26 AM in neon green letters. Music played softly in the car as John tried to focus on the road. In the passenger seat was his brother Dave, almost three years his junior. The brothers were traveling across the country, from New Hampshire to Las Vegas; they rarely got along for more than a few hours but this time they were pushing days. Dave had wanted to get away, and John had nothing keeping him at home; so they decided to take a trip out to Vegas. They would have taken a plane, but they didn’t have the extra money. That’s why John drove his 1980’s mustang down yet another quiet stretch of road in the American desert. A beeping sound interrupted the music on the radio and intrigued John to turn the volume up. He was trying to be a good driver and stay informed about anything happening in the area, but he also wanted to be a good brother and let Dave sleep. Dave had a short temper and was often cranky when he woke.
“The National Weather Service is tracking a large storm threatening rain, thunder, and lightening. Residents are advised to close the windows in their homes until the storm has passed, and anyone driving should seek shelter immediately. Reports say that the storm is creating a dust cloud that is sweeping through the desert; be extra careful in these areas.” The music turned back on as if nothing had happened, the monotone computerized voice had said its peace and gone.
Unfortunately, the announcement woke Dave from his sleep. He stirred, rubbed his eyes and then dragged his left hand over his head, through his short brown hair. He groaned as he tried to stretch, but his seatbelt was still on and his position had cramped all of his muscles. He looked quickly to John before looking out to the darkness.
“Where are we?” Dave asked as he cracked his knuckles.
“We’re still on the road.” John knew they were still going in the right direction; but stopping for directions would soon be a good idea.
“What does that mean?”
“You didn’t sleep long enough.”
“So much for Vegas.”
“I’ll get us there, don’t worry.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention, there must’ve been signs.”
“It’s dark outside and there’s nothing to see. I don’t remember the last time I actually saw a sign.”
“I should’ve driven.”
“Why, so you can scream at everyone you drive by or flip off a state trooper? Just close your eyes; I’ll wake you at dawn.” Dave cursed under his breath and punched the dashboard, turning the radio off. With a slow stream of blood dripping from his knuckles, Dave turned away in an attempt to sleep. But it didn’t last long; John turned the radio back on softly.
“The National Weather Service is tracking a large storm threatening rain, thunder, and lightening. Residents are advised to close the windows in their homes until the storm has passed, and anyone driving should seek shelter immediately. Reports say that the storm is creating a dust cloud that is sweeping through the desert; be extra careful in these areas.” The announcement came again, no more or less insistent than before. John wanted nothing more than to listen to music; maybe it would help him forget his brother’s constant criticism.
That was when he saw the first sign he could remember since Ohio. It was fitting with the history of the trip that never should’ve happened. John turned the car’s hi-beams on and slowed so that he could read the sign carefully. It was off to the side and weather worn, but he still managed to understand it.
LAKE HOUSE
GAS AND GO CONVIENENCE
OPEN 24 HOURS
NEXT STOP TWENTY MILES
GREAT FOOD AND A FRIENDLY ATMOSPHERE
ONE MILE ON THE LEFT
That’s when the ‘check engine’ light clicked on. Its bright orange glow filled the inside of the car and turned John’s vision red, nothing seemed right. Dave shifted and looked at the dashboard to see the warning light. He moaned something under his breath that he didn’t even know and sat up in the seat. It seemed to take him a few moments to realize what he was seeing.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t you bring this to the shop before we left?”
“Last week, they said everything was fine.”
“I knew it; they always do things so that you’ll have to go back and spend more money. Or they charge so much you might as well just buy a new car.” Dave cursed. “Damned thieves always trying to steal from old women.”
“They’re professionals.”
“Professional con artists.”
“Next time, you bring this car to them. Tell them how you feel, don’t bitch to me.”
“We should’ve gotten a rental.”
“Do you know how much they charge; especially if you plan to leave the state? That would piss you off.” Suddenly the ‘low oil’ and ‘low battery’ lights clicked on. “Oh, shit.” There was a sudden vibration that rocked John’s feet and a loud bang that made Dave jump in his seat. A pop followed immediately after and John lost control of the car. He fought the wheel but couldn’t stop when the car pivoted and dove into a small ditch on the side of the road. The engine died; no matter what John tried it wouldn’t start again. The power was fading too; the last thing the radio managed to utter was, “…reported severe lightening, for your own safety find shelter immediately.”
Once outside of the car, the brothers could see the extent of the damage. A tire had popped on the front passenger side and it appeared as though the axle may have snapped. Worse yet, the car struck a heavy rock and the radiator was smashed; they wouldn’t be able to get the car out on their own. Dave wasn’t happy; he tore his shirt off, exposing the dog tattoo on his back, and screamed obscenities into the night sky. Anything near him was picked up and thrown as far as he could muster; he kicked the car and used a rock to break off the passenger side-mirror.
“Hey!” John yelled at him, though Dave didn’t respond. “You’re going to pay for that. If you want to break something go somewhere so I don’t have to watch. I’m tired of you breaking my things.” Dave stopped moving, though his chest heaved heavily as sweat covered him. Finally he moved to grab his shirt and turned to John.
“What now?”
“I saw a sign for a gas station; it’s less than a mile down the road.”
“Come on!” He was flustered and spoke sharply, John expected no less.
*
The storm was raging around them, blinding them with sand and deafening them with thunder, as the brothers stumbled down the long road. They walked for what felt like hours, each step harder to take than the one before, and only the light from Lake House promised relief.
It was a low building, only one story high, with a neon sign that clearly stated “LAKE HOUSE.” There was a separate island in the parking area where two gas pumps stood like sentries under a small pavilion roof. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, plus a couple of tractor trailers parked on the far side of the building. The only thing that really mattered was the red ‘OPEN’ sign near the door.
When the brothers entered, bringing the sound of the storm with them, everyone turned to see who the new visitors were. But the attention was short lived as everyone returned to their previous conversations. As the door closed behind them, the brothers were able to absorb the place. It was designed to look like a lake house, with wood paneling and a kayak above the counter. The plan had been executed, but time had taken its toll; it looked like a disused and crumbling lake house now.
Dave walked to the counter and sat down as John continued to look around. A large man, built like a weight-lifter, wearing a plaid shirt with the arms cut off and a trucker cap on, turned to Dave. The cap read ‘I’m so red, that’s the color of my neck and my state.’ It was in red font, which matched the thick red hair that made the man’s beard. He had small eyes and his breath reeked of alcohol.
“What did you say to me?” The trucker slurred.
“I didn’t say anything.” Dave said, hardly giving the man any attention; he was more interested in the small menu in front of him.
“Are you calling me a liar?” The trucker’s voice rose, drawing the attention of everyone else including John. Dave remained focused on the menu.
“I’m calling you stupid and drunk.” Dave’s voice had flattened and the muscles in his arms stiffened. John had seen his brother like this before; right before he nearly beat a man to death.
“Be careful what you say, boy.” The trucker had slowly begun to rise from his seat as everyone else was on the edge of theirs. John knew there would be trouble, he made his way across the room but found that the other patrons were blocking him.
“Boy? Has your mom let you grow up, or is your wife stopping you? Or is she your sister; maybe your brother. You southern red-necked idiots make this a horrible place to live; with your NASCAR and inbreeding.” Dave smiled slightly at the man then turned back to the menu. John took a deep breath; he knew where this was leading.
“You must be a Yankee thinking you’re better than me, but I’ll show you.” The trucker balled up his fist and prepared to swing; but by then John had come to intervene.
“Please sir, we just had a car accident and my brother isn’t thinking straight.” John tried to diffuse the situation.
The trucker relaxed, letting his fist open. “He better be careful, before he says the wrong thing to the wrong person.”
“Go back to having sex with your mother.” Dave sneered.
“What did you say?” The trucker was standing now; he towered over the two brothers as the veins in his neck throbbed. John was quick to try and calm the trucker.
“Please, he’s always like this after he sleeps. You look like a smart man; it’s time to walk away.” John put on a friendly smile and patted the trucker on the arm softly. That didn’t go over well with the trucker.
“Nobody punches me and gets away with it!” He growled. The people watching were almost salivating, waiting for the fight they knew was coming.
“I didn’t-” John started to say, but he was interrupted as the man grabbed him and tossed him towards a fake fireplace that was painted onto the wall. John didn’t know how it fit with the motif, but that didn’t concern him as his blood sprayed onto it. There was a loud snap, something was clearly broken.
Dave sat up and looked at his brother; he turned to the trucker just in time to get pushed off the stool and onto the floor. He landed and dust rose around him, but the trucker didn’t come at him again. The wild man looked down as Dave started to stand, angrily pulling his shirt off in the way John’s Irish friends fought. He showed the trucker the tattoo of a black dog on his back, but the big man wasn’t interested. The trucker grunted and turned, John appeared to be the target.
The trucker lifted John by his neck and slammed the older brother against the wall repeatedly. John’s nose broke quickly and blood poured down the front of his face. But that didn’t stop the trucker. He kept slamming John into the floor until his body went limp; then he was dropped so the trucker could kick him in the head a few times.
Dave panicked when he saw what was happening to his brother; for all of his bravado he was afraid to try and save John. Instead; as the trucker started kicking John, Dave ran out into the storm. The sounds of raging wind and cracking of thunder filled the room, but vanished when the door swung shut.
*
Police report that hikers found the body of David Cross early this morning. Cross and his brother had been at the LAKE HOUSE, a gas station and truck stop, two weeks ago. John Cross was killed in the restaurant by a truck driver named Harvey Lee; who claimed self-defense. Statements from witnesses say that David Cross began an argument with Lee; then John came and assaulted him. Fearing for his life, Lee fought back; resulting in John Cross’ death. A county judge acquitted Lee of any wrong-doings in the matter.
Witnesses said that David exited the LAKE HOUSE into the storm, but a search at the time conducted by the local sheriff could find no trace of him. A vehicle belonging to John Cross was found in a ditch less than a mile east of the LAKE HOUSE, though it is unclear how it is involved in this situation.
David Cross’ body was found half buried under fallen brush, the coroner reports that the wounds suggest David was struck by lightening. His entire back was burned black, darkest near the nape of his neck. The body will be shipped to his family home in New Hampshire later this week.
*
One Month Later
Harvey tossed another empty beer can into a bag on the passenger seat and burped, the smell of alcohol was almost intoxicating. He drove the road many times; only once did he have any problems. But the judge said he was innocent, that was relieving. Beating a person to death had weighed heavily on his soul, but once the judge said it was okay he forgot all about it.
He heard a crackle and hiss before a voice came over the CB radio sitting on top of the center of the dashboard. Harvey turned the volume up to listen.
“Heads up, weather service is tracking a severe storm heading in your direction. There are warnings of thunder and lightening, with chances of a wind storm. Better find some place to wait, Harvey. Over.” It was the dispatcher. Harvey picked up the radio.
“Thanks Tommy; there’s a place nearby that serves great steak. I’ll chill there; over.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s the LAKE HOUSE. The judge said to avoid it; over.”
“Then I won’t tell you; out.” Harvey hung the radio back up and opened another can of beer. He emptied it in one long chug and crushed the can with his powerful hand. He saw the sign for the LAKE HOUSE as he tossed the empty can in the bag. He burped again.
Suddenly his radio began to hiss but it sounded like someone was talking. Shaking his head clear, Harvey grabbed the radio.
“Say again, dispatch; over.” The response was just a distorted melody, something a violinist would play. Harvey asked again; this time receiving a clear response.
“You stupid southern home-fried idiot, I never said anything. Maybe this time, you’ll get the message.” All of the warning lights on his dashboard lit up and Harvey grabbed the wheel. There were several popping sounds and the truck jerked; he was having trouble controlling it. He hit the brakes and jumped out of the truck when it had come to a stop.
Harvey wasn’t looking good at that moment; he was covered in sweat and beer stains covered his shirt and pants. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off, but he’d been putting on weight and the shirt was fighting to keep his gut from spilling out. His beard was a mess, full of knots and sticky from a diet of candy bars and beer; and his cap stayed off because he’d been too lazy to get his hair cut.
Harvey wasn’t planning on picking up any women, but when he heard the first howl he wished that he was in better shape. It sounded like a wolf, but he was in the wrong part of the country for that; a coyote perhaps, or some wild dog. He got his answer when he heard the low growl behind him. He slowly turned to see what horror waited for him.
A dog the size of a small car, with black fur and eyes that glowed fire red, bared razor teeth at him. It was unnatural, something that could only be imagined; he was sure he saw it before. It took him only a moment to remember the kid in the LAKE HOUSE with the tattoo.
Lightening cracked and thunder roared, drowning out the demon dog’s growls. When the sound had passed Harvey heard something new; something was dripping behind him. He dared to turn his back on the dog and saw a human-shaped figure standing nearby. Blood continued to pour from his long dead body as his black eyes promised pain.
“I’m sorry.” Harvey managed to say.
“It’s too late for that.” John said. The thunder drowned Harvey’s screams.
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