FICTION BY SHAWN MONTGOMERY

Shawn Montgomery was born in upstate New York, graduating from Binghamton University in 1999. Captivated by a steady (and age-inappropriate) mélange of horror films and ghost stories, he found himself gravitating to all things ghastly and horrific, like a moth to a flame. He began writing scary stories when he was eleven years old and hasn’t stopped.

He has had his stories featured in Disturbed Digest, Death Head Grin, Deadman’s Tome, and others. Shawn published his first novel, The Buchman, and is hard at work on subsequent novels.

He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and two daughters.

ROADKILL
by Shawn Montgomery

Eli Darwick’s chest tightened like it was bound by a roll of cable.

Am I dying of a broken heart? he wondered. Is this what dying feels like?

He shot a glance at the speedometer and was surprised to see it was near seventy. He realized he was not paying attention to his driving. He had been distracted by his thoughts, and when he suddenly came back to the present, he was relieved that he hadn’t run the car into the ditch alongside the road.

“Shit,” he muttered, watching the needle move downward. This particular stretch of road was riddled with sharp curves and potentially fatal hazards, so he slowed to a more sensible forty.

He glimpsed out of the window—nothing but a landscape of darkness, interspersed with twinkling lights of distant farmhouses. Just another ten miles or so, he told himself, and he’d return to civilization. Then he’d stop at a convenience store, pick up a twelve pack, and drive back to the apartment…alone. Marianne was gone.

What am I gonna do with the ring now? he wondered miserably. Pawn it? Save it for somebody else?

It doesn’t even matter, he decided as his thoughts drifted away again, thinking about how she had unceremoniously dumped him. Nothing matters anymore.

Suddenly, a dark blur materialized from the side of the road and darted in front of the car. Eli slammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel. There was a shuddering thump upon impact, followed by a sharp crack of the windshield.

As the Elantra fishtailed across the road, Eli could see something large being thrown backward into a ditch. An involuntary scream escaped him. He wrestled with the steering wheel, and eventually the car skidded to a stop.

He sat for a long moment, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white with the force. Blood pounded his temple, and he didn’t realize he was holding his breath until several seconds later.

Finally he killed the engine and got out. Other than a spiderweb crack along the windshield and a broken headlight cover, the car looked okay. It’s not bad, he reassured himself. I probably just clipped a deer. He retrieved a flashlight from his glovebox and aimed it toward the ditch.

He was shocked at what he saw. This was no deer! A body was lying face down, one arm arched over the head, the other tucked underneath the chest.

“Help,” he stammered not realizing that he was talking out loud. He pulled out his phone. “I gotta call 911.”

He then recalled the five vodka-sodas he had downed at Marianne’s parents’ house, the last one drained in a single, angry gulp. How much alcohol was in his system now? Although he didn’t feel drunk, he did feel buzzed, and he knew his BAC certainly wouldn’t be at the legal limit.

Oh no! This could mean manslaughter. Wasn’t that what happened if you killed a person while driving drunk? He wrestled with his conscience for a moment.

“Shit,” he muttered as he slid the phone back into his coat pocket.

Every sound around him became clear, amplified—the crickets in the bushes, a dog howling from a nearby farm, and persistent buzzing sounds that wafted from the surrounding woods like dueling chainsaws.

He aimed a shaky beam of light across the body again. It was a man, dressed in muddy, tattered sweatpants and a t-shirt several sizes too large. He was barefoot, both feet caked with dirt.

Eli wanted to jump in his car and leave, but he had to know first. Did he kill a man? He made his way carefully to the bottom of the ditch, trying to not slide on the muddy bank.

He knelt beside the body and gingerly turned him over. The man’s nose was horribly mashed to one side. Thick, dark eyebrows arched downward and met along where the bridge of his nose should have been. His bottom lip was split open and trickling rivulets of blood into the muddy chin.

Eli noticed several round holes in the man’s shirt, rimmed with flaring smudges. What were those? They almost looked like gunshot wounds.

“Hey there,” he said, gently tapping the man’s shoulder with the end of his flashlight. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

The body didn’t stir.

He pulled out his phone again and stared dumbly at the screen. He became resigned to his fate. Despite the alcohol in his system, he had to call 911—he would accept the consequences. He could not live with himself if he just drove away.

“If you can hear me,” he shouted to the downed man, “I’m getting help!”

As he began tapping the passcode, the chainsaw buzzing in the woods grew louder. A few seconds later, Eli spotted disembodied headlamps zig-zagging through the darkness.

Someone was coming. Maybe someone had beat him to it and had already called the police. Eli put the phone back in his pocket and climbed back up the ditch to the road.

The tandem drone intensified until a pair of ATVs plowed through a copse of trees, nearly hitting him. The vehicles skidded across the gravel, spraying clouds of pebbles and dust.

After turning off the engine, one of the helmeted riders got off and pointed at the body, ignoring Eli. “Is that it?” a muffled voice asked.

The other rider nodded.

The first rider took off his helmet. He looked around sixteen years old. Tall and gangly, the boy wore baggy camouflage pants and an oversized black t-shirt. Damp strands of hair dangled over his eyes, his face flushed and glistening with sweat. The other rider followed suit. Another kid, around the same age. Shorter and huskier than his companion, this boy’s head was closely shaved, his round face flecked with acne.

“Look, this man needs to go to a hospital,” Eli told them.

The taller kid shook his head. “Naw, mister, this ain’t a man no more.”

“What are you talking about?” Eli gasped, shaking his head. “This man is clearly injured.”

The two boys glanced at each other. “Should we call Tom?”

The first boy nodded. “Yeah, for sure. I don’t think they’re too far behind.”

“Hold on a minute,” Eli said, aiming his flashlight back down into the ditch. “Do you know this guy?”

As the tall kid whipped out his phone, his friend walked to the back of his ATV, opened a small storage box and brought out a hatchet.

“Whoa, why do you have that?” Eli cried. “What the hell is going on?”

“Hey Tom, it’s Devon,” the first kid spoke. “I think we found it…yep…along State Route 4, about three miles south from the Millers’ farm. There’s another guy here too, says he might have hit it with his car. He’s talking about calling for help. Okay, see ya soon.”

“Who are you talking to?” Eli demanded. “We need to call 911. We need an ambulance.”

The boy named Devon didn’t reply. Instead, he headed back to his own ATV, snapped open a similar storage compartment, and pulled out a semi-automatic pistol.

Eli staggered back several steps. “Hey now, why do you have that for? I’m no threat to you or your friends.”

“This,” Devon gushed, “is a Glock 19. It shoots perfectly from at least twenty-five yards out, and it’ll save our asses if that thing wakes up.”

The boys exchanged glances, then Devon stepped down into the ditch. His friend pulled out a Mini Mag-Lite from his pocket and aimed a crisp beam of light along the crumpled body.

Without warning, Devon kicked the downed man in the ribs.

“Hey!” Eli shouted. “What the hell are you doing!”

“Just stay back, Mister,” Devon’s friend ordered in a shaky voice. “This ain’t any of your business.”

Eli shook his head in disbelief. “My business? What are you talking about? You just assaulted a helpless man!”

Devon kicked the man again, this time along his legs.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m calling the police.”

“No you ain’t,” Devon said, lifting the pistol. “This ain’t no business for the po-liceeither.”

Eli immediately backed down and lifted his hands. “Hey there, put the gun down before somebody gets hurt.”

Devon lowered the gun as his friend asked, “What now?”

The boy spit a thick, dark glob into a cluster of weeds. “Tom doesn’t want us to be alone with it.”

“What about him?” his friend said, pointing at Eli.

“We’ll figure it out if he’s still around.”

Before Eli could say anything else, the two boys leaped out of the ditch, stashed their weapons back in the storage compartments and mounted the ATVs.

“You better get goin’, Mister,” Devon’s muted voice shouted over the grumbling vehicles, “before it wakes up!”

After slipping their helmets on, the boys maneuvered the ATVs in a wide circle and sped back into the forest. Dumfounded, Eli stood beside the ditch, watching the red, glowing taillights disappear into the darkness.

His mind began to race—who was that kid talking to? Why were they referring to this guy as an it? Eli made his way back down the muddy banks of the roadside ditch and knelt beside the man. He placed his hand across his shoulder. The coating of blood along his shirt had congealed into a sticky glaze, his body hot to the touch. The heat coming off the man meant he was still alive.

What am I going to do? he thought frantically. Even if he called 911, the hospital was at least twenty miles away. How long would it take them to come out here? And what if those boys and their buddies came back before that? What would happen then?

And then he had an idea that was a solution for everything. He could take the man to the hospital himself and drop him off anonymously at the front door. Problem solved. No DUI, no manslaughter charge and the stranger would be helped. No one would know who dropped him off. Although there would be security cameras at the hospital, he could park a distance away and carry the man. He was already wearing a ball cap, so all he would need is a bandana across his face and he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Hey,” he whispered, gently poking the man in the arm. “I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

Eli jogged back to his car, flung the back door open and cleared away a pile of debris from the seat. He then jumped back into the car and slowly backed to the ditch. As he approached the body again, he thought he saw the man’s leg flinch—just a slight movement, enough to catch his attention. He crouched down and lightly shook the man’s shoulders. “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

The body remained still.

Glancing nervously at the woods, Eli pressed his index and middle fingers along the side of the man’s neck for a pulse, but all he could feel were thick clumps of hair. With no time to waste, Eli lifted the man’s arms and gingerly dragged him out of the ditch. He then got down on one knee and slid his arms underneath the man’s lower back and knees. After taking several deep breaths, Eli began to lift. Sharp, electrifying pain zipped up his arms and shoulders, and his back audibly popped in several places, but with the man cradled against him, he slowly straightened himself and began hobbling to the car.

He was almost about to drop the guy, but Eli lunged forward and placed the body along the backseat. He then raised the guy’s legs just enough so he could close the door. With the man safely inside the car, he stood outside for several minutes, struggling to catch his breath. Gradually, the dizziness passed and he slipped back inside. After entering the hospital’s address into the GPS, he started the car and carefully veered back onto the road.

In that moment, Eli felt a surge of relief. Now, he just had to take this man to the hospital, as fast as he could. However, after driving only a few minutes, he spotted a pick-up truck ahead, parked in a diagonal slash across both lanes of the road, blocking his path.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

He briefly considered swerving around the truck, but then noticed the pair of ATVs flanking it on either side, blocking his way.

Reluctantly, Eli stopped about twenty feet away. He first spotted the boys beside the truck, then two other people who stood in the middle of the road, facing him. He sat for several seconds, unsure of what to do next.

One of the men lifted a meaty arm in a sort of half-wave, although his mouth was frozen in a grimace. Easily towering over the group, long greasy hair dangled across the man’s broad shoulders, and his face was swollen and pocked, dark bags hanging under a pair of spooked eyes that looked like they hadn’t seen sleep in days. Clad in baggy cargo pants and a t-shirt that stretched over his immense beer belly, the man casually readjusted a crossbow that was slung over his shoulder.

Eli partially unrolled his window.

“Hello there, Stranger,” the man standing next to the behemoth called out. He was cradling a semi-automatic rifle like it was the most natural thing in the world. The smoldering ember from a cigarette glowed between his lips. “My name is Tom, and these are my brothers. I hate to bother you out here in the middle of the night, but I think you have something of ours.”

Although the words left his mouth in a sort of friendly, sing-song way, his voice was laced with steely authority. Eli figured this guy to be somewhere in his late forties, early fifties. Attired in tawny military fatigues, complete with a body vest and thick tactical boots, gray hairs speckled his pale, sullen face, and his slightly bugged-out eyes emitted a haunted intensity.

“Hello,” Eli said, “but I don’t think I have anything of yours. A man is injured in the back of my car and I’m taking him to the hospital. If you can move your truck, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Tom’s face remained expressionless. “My boy tells me that you hit the thing with your car. How hard was the impact?”

“Not too bad,” Eli replied. “I clipped him, I think, but the car wasn’t going too fast. I think he was already hurt though, so I really need to get him some help.”

Tom flicked the cigarette towards Eli’s car. His eyes grew cold, flinty. “I’m afraid we can’t do that right now,” he said. “Why don’t you come out of your car and we’ll clear some things up.”

“Ah, no thanks,” Eli said. “I’m not getting out.”

Tom nodded, then he and the man with the crossbow began walking toward the car.

Eli rolled up the window and locked the doors. When they reached the car, the large man bent down and lightly tapped on the window with the tip of his crossbow.

“My friends call me Bear,” the big man announced with a deep baritone. “We could explain why we need that thing in your car, but time is of the essence.”

The detached, calm tone in the man’s voice frightened Eli, but at the same time, sounded convincing…almost hypnotizing. Maybe this isn’t as crazy as it seems. Maybe I’m just overreacting.

He stole a glance at the makeshift road block. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. And if he turned around and fled the other direction? Just race around the countryside for who knows how long while some stranger died in his backseat?

Despite his inner-voice pleading with him to start the car, Eli watched his hand reach for the door handle. The two men stepped back and stood in front. Nobody appeared smug or even interested in harming him. In fact, the younger boys looked just as afraid as Eli felt.

After unlocking the door, Eli slowly got out and took stock of the group. He was outnumbered; if they wanted to kill him, they could with little effort, and it’d take years before somebody found his decomposed remains. Maybe I can reason with these people, he thought suddenly. Find out what they really want.

Forcing a thin smile, he lifted his hands. “I think this has been one huge misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, you think?” Bear croaked.

“My name is Eli Darwick. I was visiting my fiancé at her parents’ place and while driving home, this man stumbled out into the road. All I want to do is get him some medical attention. I really appreciate your concern and would like to give you some compensation for helping me tonight.”

Tom exchanged a quick glance at his group before taking a step forward.

“Okay, Eli Darwick,” he said, “we’re not here to scare or hurt you. We have no business with you, actually. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, that…man…you intend to take to the hospital is not what you think he is.”

Eli shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Mister,” Devon drawled, “you’re wasting our time. Just get the damn thing out of your car!”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Well, Eli Darwick, of course you can,” Tom said in a low, steady voice. “It’s easier than you think, actually. I can’t explain everything to you now, but what I can say is the man in your backseat is very dangerous.”

“That man in my car isn’t your property!” Eli cried, his voice cracking. “I suggest you move your truck and let me pass.”

Tom tapped out another cigarette. “That thing in your car is not human…not now anyway. We’ve been hunting its kind for a long time, our daddies and granddaddies before us. They’ve been living in these woods for years, hiding so deep that most people don’t know they even exist. Full moons mean squat, and shooting ‘em with silver bullets is just Hollywood bullshit.”

“What are you talking about?” Eli asked incredulously.

Tom lifted his gun and aimed it at the car. “There is an extremely dangerous beast in the back of your car, sir, and I suspect it isn’t dead. These things are extremely durable and difficult to kill. We don’t need silver bullets, but we do need to fill ‘em with ordinary bullets, then chop ‘em up into dog food and burn what’s left into a pile of rotten ash.”

Eli shook his head in disbelief. “Wait, you’re actually trying to tell me that a werewolf stumbled in front of my car? What century do you live in? Listen, I don’t know why you attacked this man, but I’m not just going to stand here and let you murder somebody.”

One of the ATV kids flapped his arms. “For Christ’s sake, Tom, let’s just knock his ass out and take the damned thing!”

Eli stared at the group, the boy’s words ringing in his ears. This group was not only armed and dangerous, they were either on drugs or mentally ill.

Or both. He hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

Fortunately, the group turned and began discussing among themselves. Being as quiet as possible, Eli crouched down and began to creep back inside his car.

“Hey there, fella,” Bear’s voice bellowed suddenly. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Without thinking, Eli yanked out his phone and held it in front of him like it was a detonator. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted. “I’m calling the police…right now!”

Just as he swiped to his phone’s home screen, he heard the familiar creak of his car door. “What the hell!” he cried and spun around. The two boys had snuck around back without him noticing, and were trying to drag the man out by his legs.

Eli rushed at them. “Hey, get away from him!”

The boys promptly let go. Devon raised his fist, but immediately dropped his arm and took several steps backward, his eyes fixed to the backseat. Eli quickly stuffed the man’s legs back into the car and slammed the door. “Back off! All of you!”

Surprisingly, the group complied and huddled several feet away. Acting on pure instinct, Eli jumped inside the Elantra, locked the doors, and hit the gas. The car rocked forward, roaring to life with a loud squeal. As he sped toward the vehicles blocking the road, he was fully prepared to just barrel into them and hope for the best. But at the last second, he noticed space between one of the ATVs and truck.

Can I squeeze through that?

He wasn’t sure, but had to try.

Muttering an impromptu prayer, Eli increased the speed. As he rumbled through the gap, the passenger side bumper clipped one of the ATVs, sending it tumbling over into the ditch, but he just pressed on the accelerator and continued down the road. Behind him, the group scrambled to the truck.

This is insane, Eli thought, his heart thudding wildly. They’re going to chase me!

The Elantra rumbled around him, its engine literally shaking his body as hammering, caustic noise filled his ears.How much farther to the freeway? The GPS had somehow turned off, and he didn’t trust himself to fuss with it now.

What was that sound?

There was sudden movement in the backseat, followed by a brief, low growl. For a moment, Eli wondered if one of the boys had somehow snuck inside, but as he craned his neck, all he could see was the man, still curled up on the backseat. And then, in his rearview mirror, he saw the man move again.

The stranger in the back seat had regained consciousness.

Then he noticed a pair of twinkling orbs in his rearview mirror. Tom and his friends were chasing him, and catching up fast.

The speed limit was posted as forty-five, but he pushed the car until it was creeping toward sixty. The road was unlit and curvy, and each time he had to brake around another curve, Eli gritted his teeth, hoping the old sedan could handle it. Despite his efforts, the truck’s headlights gradually narrowed the gap. The steering wheel began rattling in Eli’s hands and the car released a series of angry groans, but he either had to outrun these maniacs, or stop again and suffer the consequences. As he veered around another curve, the truck barreled beside him in the oncoming lane. Bear squeezed himself out of the passenger side window, shouting something indecipherable. Shaking his head, Eli pressed on the accelerator. Sixty miles per hour…sixty five….seventy…

As the car approached eighty miles per hour, the vehicle shook like it was about to fall apart. Terrified that he was going to lose control, Eli reluctantly lifted his foot and slowed down.

To his surprise, the truck inexplicably slowed down as well, then jerked back over and merged several car lengths behind him. High beams began flickering in his rearview mirror as the truck’s horn bleated in steady, rhythmic bursts.

Sound from the back seat.

Eli peered around. The stranger’s shoulders and chest tensed, like he was trying to sit up. “Are you awake?” Eli called out. “It’s okay, I’m getting you help.”

Just then, he passed a barn that he recognized and knew he was close to the highway on-ramp. Two miles, maximum. The rednecks must have known too, because the truck continued slowing before finally pulling over to the road’s shoulder. High beams flashed through Eli’s back window several more times before shutting off.

“Yes!” Eli shouted. “Go back to your cave, assholes!”

As he readjusted his rearview mirror, Eli noticed the man slowly pushing himself up to a seated position.

“Don’t worry,” Eli said, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The man didn’t respond, instead exhaling a series of uneven, phlegmy gasps.

Eli smiled. “Thank God you’re okay. What happ—”

In one swift movement, the man lifted his arm and swiped the side of his head. At first, Eli felt a stinging sensation along his ear, and thought the man had slapped him. But a sudden, intense pain blossomed along his skull, followed by a steady trickling of something warm down his neck.

Eli screamed, and in a state of panic, groped his head with his left hand and accidentally tugged on his partially severed ear. He howled in agony.

The man (or whatever it was now), emitted a deep, throaty growl as it stretched itself across the passenger seat. Eli stomped on the brakes. The car squealed angrily and swerved across the road, narrowly missing a speed limit sign. Before he knew what was happening, the creature struck again.

Eli instantly felt an odd, stinging sensation sweep across his cheek, and when he looked in the mirror, saw that a swath of flesh had been ripped away. A gaping hole was gouged into his cheek now, flaps of skin dangling from his face like pieces of torn fabric. His hands fumbling with the wheel, the car careened wildly across the road again, before bouncing into a culvert ditch and shuddering to a stop.

Looming over Eli, the creature growled lustily, its impatient lips revealing an overcrowded mouth dripping with stalactite canines. Its face was now covered in dark, glistening fur.

Eli blindly reached for the door handle and tumbled out, tumbling down the muddy bank and falling into the ditch. The creature followed.

Tears, mixed with gore, drizzled across Eli’s mangled face. His mouth sucked air like a dying fish. Wasting no time, the beast straddled his waist and chewed into his chest. A fountain of blood began spraying from his body, soaking the ground. A tremendous pressure, intertwined with agonizing pain, blanketed every limb.

Finally, the creature pulled itself up and stood on its hind legs. A tar-like liquid slipped down the corner of its mouth and splattered across Eli’s contorted face. In response, Eli’s jaw began moving involuntarily, each movement racking waves of pain through his entire body. Absently groping at his wounded stomach, Eli pulled at a thick rope of intestine that was hanging from where his stomach should had been. He tried calling for help, but gargled out a mouthful of blood instead.

The beast suddenly jerked its head up, its glistening, bulbous nose twitching. It then released a soft, mournful moan, before leaping over Eli and disappearing into the forest. Eli tried moving his limbs, but his body wasn’t cooperating any more.

As he lied in the dirt, he thought he heard the faint crunching of tires along gravel, followed by the low humming of a truck’s engine. Blinking through a blinding sheath of tears and blood, he could make out the murky forms of four figures standing over him. Somebody was speaking, but their voice was muted, the words garbled.

Finally, Eli stopped struggling and closed his eyes. There was no shimmering light waiting for him at the end of a long and dark tunnel. No spirits of loved ones welcoming him in a haze of tranquility. Stuck between life and death, Eli Darwick discovered it wasn’t glamorous or even bittersweet. Oddly, in this moment of dying, it wasn’t horrible either. It wasn’t much of anything.