Blood Trails

The sky was pink, and the moon was almost ready to slip into a beautiful phase nearing its end. Mist covered the landscape, though it wasn’t thick enough to affect driving. Then again, it wasn’t really mist. It was smoke drifting from a distant crop fire.

Our hero drove his car as the chill began to seep in. His fingers trembled on the steering wheel. The cold wasn’t entirely to blame. Every bump in the road made him wonder if the contents of his trunk were still behaving.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—there was nobody else in the car to help him. He started putting on his gloves and dropped one between his feet. His instinct was to grab it immediately, but last week’s incident still haunted him. Back then, he had crashed into a tree while trying to save a stupid bunny. The mindless creature had darted across the road just as he reached down to pick up his dropped phone.

So he refused to use his hands and prepared his feet instead. Carefully, he removed his left shoe with the help of his right foot. Then he realized he was still wearing socks and screamed, “What the hell?”

He began blaming every sock manufacturer on the planet for creating such a useless invention. Why couldn’t they make socks like gloves? Now he couldn’t pick up the glove at all.

“These motherfuckers are the worst...” he shouted.

The window muffled his voice, though not the cold.

He promised himself that if he managed to pick up the glove, he would buy a large cup of coffee and a shitload of worm gummies.

A few minutes later, he pulled into a gas station and walked into the convenience store. He grabbed three bags of worm gummies and joined a short line with only two people ahead of him.

When he placed the bags on the counter, the cashier looked him up and down.

“Having a child’s party?” she asked.

“Why not?” he replied.

She packed the gummies, and he paid with a smile. From that smile, she couldn’t read anything except weirdness—the smile of someone who hadn’t held a real conversation in a very long time.

Soon, all the other customers had left, and silence settled over the gas station. She handed him his change, and he walked out. He started the car, and the silence fled the place. With two worm gummies stuffed into his mouth, he accelerated away.

His car hit a pothole near the station exit, jolting him in his seat.

“Please don’t leak,” he muttered.

After eating nearly half a bag of gummies, he noticed red streaks trailing behind his car in the rearview mirror. He pulled over on a lonely country road bordered by golden-brown cornfields.

Opening the trunk revealed the cramped body of a young woman.

He had folded her arms and legs carefully. He had even placed a plastic support beneath her left leg to keep blood from dripping out of the wound. Her twisted head was almost entirely covered in blood.

The plastic sheet had shifted slightly, probably because of the pothole at the gas station. He adjusted it and draped his spare jacket over the body to stop the dripping. Then he rearranged her limbs neatly so the trunk would close properly.

As he shut the trunk, he heard a soft cracking sound.

“Sorry,” he said automatically.

Then he paused for a second, wondering why he had apologized.

He ignored the thought and climbed back into the car.

He continued his journey toward a good old wasteland where he planned to dump the body.

Within a few hundred meters of checking the trunk, he spotted a hand waving from the roadside. The high beams of an oncoming truck illuminated the figure clearly.

She appeared to be in her early twenties, wearing a yellow sundress. Her frame was slender.

He pulled over to get a better look at her face and decided she seemed harmless enough.

She softened her voice into a seductive tone, hoping for a free ride.

He let her into the car.

She stepped into the coffin with wheels.