Run Over

Driving at night is the stupidest thing I could have ever done. Actually, the second stupidest thing I could have ever done. Especially because I was alone and driving back home from a college visit on a road that is surrounded by cornfields on either side.

I know, I know. That should have been the first clue that something bad would happen, being on a deserted road at night- the only light was from the moon and not the usual streetlights that I was used to- but I ignored it and continued to drive. In the middle of nowhere… Alone... Ok, I'm an idiot (sue me). I just wanted to get home and sleep before I passed out on the steering wheel.

The moon was high in the countryside sky. It cast a white glow over the cornfields, extending the shadows and keeping the middle of the field dark. It was an eerie sight, one that wasn’t what I wanted to see at the moment. I took a few deep breaths and concentrated my thoughts on something else—like the day I had just been put through.

The tour guide at the college hadn't been that nice. I almost got an ulcer from holding in all the comments I wanted to scream out at the guy—I mean, he didn't have to speak slowly to me. I didn't say “what?” because I didn't understand, I said it because no one was paying attention and was talking amongst themselves. I was trying to pay attention, but if that's the response I get to a simple, innocent question, I'll go elsewhere for my education. I didn’t need to interact with those kinds of people; I might end up kicked out of college for “accidentally” giving one of them a black eye. It wouldn’t be the first time. I just seem to attract the most annoying people in a twenty-five mile radius.

My thoughts were suddenly dragged back to the present as I drove down the dark road, the radio tuned to static, which I quickly shut off– I had never been the same since The Ring and that stupid television static. I shook off the memory like a bad date’s arm and continued to debate with myself on which school I should turn my education over to.

Maybe I should just go to Oxford and forget about my homesickness. I was the kind of person who wanted to stay in the same state that I was familiar with. But hey, I also wanted to be successful. If it meant going across an ocean, so be it. I had a ghost of a thought that I was keeping my eyes on the road, but I wasn’t really seeing what was there. Kind of like when I sing a song and my thoughts drift off. A few minutes later the song ends and I realize that I hadn’t missed a word.

That was the moment I should have snapped out of my self-made comfort bubble. I should have noticed something shaking the cornstalks to my right. Making more of a wave in the sea of green than the light breeze leftover from the afternoon could have made, but the debate had taken over my thoughts. It wasn't until a silhouette emerged from the fields that I snapped out of it and actually paid attention to the road. It had stepped onto the cracked pavement, into the range of my headlight and in front of my car. I finally pulled myself from my shock and slammed on the brakes, twisting the steering wheel. Too late, a deafening thud told me.

The thing I had hit tumbled over my hood, cracked the windshield, dented my roof, and landed behind the Honda Civic. Once I screeched the car to a stop without fishtailing, I sat there frozen for a few seconds. My brain seemed to replay the few seconds in my vision a second time as I stared at the smashed glass. Adrenaline had injected into my blood, my vision wavered as the spots went away to leave everything clearer and more precise than before.

I looked at myself in the rearview mirror and saw a few pieces of glass had broken away from the windshield and had grazed my left cheek. Blood droplets formed at the surface of the cut and slowly rolled down my face. My hair had fallen out of the clip, brown tendrils stuck to my pale face. As the drops of blood make tracks down my skin, my eyes widen in horror. It didn’t really register in my mind that I was looking at myself, until I saw the blue orbs.

You always hear about car accidents or cars hitting deer or something like it, but they never can really describe what happens to the mind after the car stops and everything settles into breakable silence.

"Oh…my…Oh, God…" I gulped down some burning air and looked past my reflection. Another gulp burned as I spotted the lump of, whatever I had hit, lying on the ground not moving. My mind stopped hitting repeat and pounded the play button. The next breath felt like burning glass shards.

I just hit a freaking deer, kept running through my mind as I clumsily unbuckled and opened the car door. My knees gave out immediately, but I clutched onto the inner door handle letting myself hover a few inches from the shoulder road gravel. What do I do? What do I do!

I locked my knees and awkwardly, yet cautiously, approached the lump until I saw an arm at a weird angle and the bottoms of shoes in the red glow of my backlights. My stomach plummeted. I turned and retched into the cornstalks. I let my knees give out and sat on the cold road—gasping—trying not to look at the “lump”. A fleeting apology to the farmer about his corn crossed my mind then another thought. What if I had hit the farmer?

I heard a muffled groan that- thank God- broke my panicked state. Once I was in a daze, alone with my thoughts, there had to be something- or someone- to catch my attention and drag my sorry ass back to the present or I could have been sitting there for hours while the poor guy died from blunt force trauma…or was it called something else when you sustained a blow from a car? I shook myself and broke the silent promise to myself as I looked over at the man. I forced myself to think of the lump as a homo sapien, it was-by far- the healthier thing to do.

I took a few deep breaths to steady myself and cautiously crawled over to the person, the gravel bit into my palms, but my jeans took most of the damage for my knees. I settled myself next to him, sitting on my heels. I let my hands hover over the body it was a debate on whether to touch him or not, whether that would make things worse. Judging from his injuries, I decided that it would do more damage considering the extent of my knowledge on helping injured people. I knew the basic wound dressing from a previous job, but I hadn’t used that knowledge past a few Band-Aids and bee stings. This was definitely a little more extreme.

He had a deep gash on his left forearm, his right shoulder was out of its socket as far as I could tell and he looked like he had broken an ankle. And yes, it was a guy. I could tell from the five o'clock shadow on his face. I wonder, why do they call it a “five o'clock shadow”? I mean, it's almost eleven at night now and-

Another thick, pained groan brought me back to reality, where I hit myself in the head with the heel of my hand.

I needed to concentrate, dammit. I hit a guy with my car, for Christ’s sake! That sudden thought made my stomach churn. Though knowing that I hadn’t run away calmed it slightly.

"Can you hear me, mister?” Mister? This guy could have been a year or two older than me. “Can you...move or say anything? Sir?"

I lightly touched his intact shoulder and jumped back as his head shot up. He looked around quickly and tried to stand up, but failed miserably considering the shape he was in. He toppled over to his side, I reached out to steady him, but I stopped myself at the last second. I still wasn’t sure where to place my hands. I watched him struggle and was surprised that he could move at all, but he was finally able to get up by pushing off of the road harshly. He hobbled precariously on his one good foot, most of his weight on it.

"You shouldn't move. You'll make it worse." I never thought that I'd have to say those words, but here I am, kneeling in front of a guy I hit and trying to coax him with my voice that was shaking (even though I was trying to sugar-coat it). This just wasn't my day.

He looked around, ignoring my request and it was then that I noticed his matted black hair was also streaked with blood—I cringed and shot a glance back at my red car. The color took the sharpness away from the liquid that streaked the hood. His green eyes scanned through the cornstalks that surrounded us, as I tried to keep down what was left of a ten-dollar dinner at the truck stop a few miles back. My eyes were torn from the wreck and back to the on-edge man before me. I got a really bad feeling then, so I stood up- my legs were as useful as a knife at a gun fight- and reached out my strangely still hand for him. He really should sit back down before he did more damage to his ankle.

"It's coming..." he mumbled, stopping my hand mid-reach. His voice was deep and it took me a while to make myself think of what he said and not just how alluring he sounded.

"What? The ambulance?" I smacked myself in the head again and rolled my eyes at myself- a skill I was an expert at. An ambulance! That's right! That's what you do in this situation. I had to start using the common sense I had left.

I was wobbling my way back to the car for my cell phone—

SNAP.

I whipped around, my hair-tie flying uselessly into the dark. Though I could have cared less, I was too busy watching the guy who was now pushing his shoulder back into its socket give no scream of pain or even a flinch crossing his captivating features. Then he rolled his shoulder around until he was satisfied with the comfort level and looked down at his foot.

CRACK.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" A slight edge of hysteria crept into my voice, as the guy snapped his ankle back into place and tested it on the ground carefully.

He, once again, ignored my shout—and the slight horror that slipped onto my face again—and looked at his arm where the bloody gash was and wiped his blood away.

Just like that—he wiped it away like it was strawberry jelly and…there was no cut.

I stared at the place where, just a moment ago, I could have sworn I had seen his bone the cut had been so deep. I stood up and began to walk away from him, a cold creeping up my spine and taking root in every nerve ending. The last thing I needed tonight was for the guy, I had just hit with my car, to be some murdering freak that could defy the laws of nature. I stumbled backwards slightly as the green orbs looked up at me, regarding my presence for a second, and studying me with slight interest. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

His head then snapped its attention to the crops on our right where there was a rustling. I followed his line of vision, my brain processing what I was seeing a little too slow. Again, my luck was just great tonight.

There was a thing just beyond the cornstalks. The stalks shivered as the thudding footfalls came closer- my mind flashed upon the unwelcome thought of Jurassic Park. You know, when the glass of water vibrates, though I heard that was from a guitar string under the dashboard.

I first saw the claws as they pushed the stalks out of its way, many of them snapping and falling to the ground as the creature tried to shrug its way through them. I pulled back from the tar pit that was my thoughts, and stared at them as they lay there bent and defeated while the claws glistened maliciously in the moonlight. I realized that the gash on the man’s arm hadn’t been from the fact that I had hit him at forty miles-an-hour.

I struggled to stay conscious as fight-or-flight was kicking in and my brain began to overload on fear. The adrenaline rush was forgotten back where my stomach was. The hollow feeling of fear was all that was left when I saw a foot followed the claw; actually, it was more of a huge paw. It slapped onto the road, I could visualize the size of the pads that pressed down on the pavement. Finally, the thing emerged from the shadows and snorted steam into the cold air. It seemed to be directed at the guy, who stood there stoically.

I, being the completely polar opposite of the guy, could feel my eyes begin water as I challenged their limits to stare at the creature in front of me. It was covered in shaggy silver-blue fur that ruffled in the slight breeze. Its face consisted of a short muzzle, black beady eyes, and a black nose, that was still pouring out angry steam. My own straining eyes drifted to the sky and took in the only light.

Full moon. You have to be kidding me.

The beast stared at the man for a long instant, not realizing that I standing only a few feet away from it, bleeding, and possibly its target. It simply gazed at the man and tensed its muscled, preparing and calculating. A shock shot up my spine and my scalp tingled with the unseen power the creature was giving off. At last, it launched at the guy, snarling in the most feral way that made my blood sizzle and freeze simultaneously. I fell to the ground as my knees gave out again, watching the fight in front of me (What? Like I could do anything?). They were rolling on the ground in a knot of punches and kicks and bites—

Wait, “bites”?

I could see the guy's face clearly in the moonlight as he struggled with the creature on the ground. He now had fangs coming out of his mouth and was trying to push the werewolf off him as it tried to choke him. He used his elbow to strike at one of the werewolf's forearms repeatedly, near the crook of its elbow. When it fell forward, he widened his mouth and bit into the thing's neck, pulling back quickly—achieving in ripping the werewolf's throat out. Blood gushed out of the rip in the creature’s neck, drenching the man as he shoved the body off easily. The werewolf gave a sputtering noise as it twitched on the ground, trying to breathe air into its drowning lungs. After a moment, it choked and lay there motionless in the road.

The man stared at the corpse for a moment longer. The body slowly rearranged itself, bones and sinew popped and crack—then he turned to me, his expression beautifully serious as he started to walk toward me. His face was shining with the fresh blood making his skin shockingly pale in comparison to the crimson.

That was the last image I remembered before I lost my internal battle and fainted.