Baked Scribe Flashback : Staying Dead
In all fairness, Rodrigo couldn’t say that this was the worst job possible but it was pretty close to the top of the list. And to top it off, because he lived in one of the cheapest counties anywhere, he wasn’t even provided with a proper vehicle. All he rated was an ambulance, long since taken out of commission. He heaved the remaining portion of the carcass into the back and and half turned, wiping his gloves off on his plastic overalls as he surveyed the scene. There were still some little bits lying around on the road, but other animals would take care of those by morning.
As he went to slam the door, he heard a sound from the pile. He couldn’t place it at first, but it sounded wet, like something being pushed against the floor of the van. It had to be something shifting around. It wasn’t like there was anything holding all that stuff together. The smell that wafted over him was enough of a reminder why he had no interest in investigating any further. After all, what else could have caused it?
He got behind the wheel and slammed the door hard, wishing half-heartedly that the engine wouldn’t turn over or that maybe the door would break somehow, making the vehicle unusable. Of course the old warhorse stood strong as much as the stench as he pulled out onto the highway. Traffic at this time of night was sparse, just the occasional semi amidst the leavings of the previous day’s destruction.
This stretch of road was one of the worst in the state. The speed limit was way too high, but no lawmaker would ever have the balls to change that. There wasn’t a stretch of straight anywhere and it was a road heavily used by commuters, so people were usually in a rush. He was left to clean up the remains of these animals whose only crime was to go out for a walk.
He heard the noise again.
This wasn’t the sound of bodies jostling together and sliding off each other as a result of the van’s movement. He was used to that sound and heard it all the time. This sounded like something trying to crawl out. He could hear something scratching at the metal flooring, as if trying to find enough purchase below to stand up and out of the pile.
He was letting the work get to him. It was probably inevitable, in all likelihood not the first time someone in this job experienced this. Just a little slip from reality, thanks to a lack of sleep and the normal apprehensions surrounding a pretty shitty occupation.
Something was breathing behind him.
He jerked his head around at the pile of decimated corpses. The head laying on top was wobbling, like a drink on a tray until it rolled to the side and dropped to the floor. It continued rolling until it hit the sidewall with a hallow sound and came to a stop. He turned back to the road to see that he had drifted halfway off onto the shoulder. He corrected the van’s trajectory and pulled back onto the road.
Something was crawling out of the pile.
Somehow, some rodent must have sneaked into the back end and was now making its way out to freedom. Had to be that.Still, it sounded larger, so much so that it was getting nearly impossibly to explain it away or ignore it.
He saw the shape in the mirror, rising up out of the carnage, nearly to the roof. He swerved off the road and turned back to look. The thing was somehow made from the organic material in the pile it had just risen out of. It was as if someone had put all of those remains into a giant meat grinder and used the by-product to mold this thing, as if out of clay. It spread out its arms, clearing the debris out of its way and began making its way towards the front of the van.
Rodrigo yanked the wheel to the right and stopped on the shoulder. He could hear himself screaming but from another universe as he jumped out of the van and began running away from the highway. There was a screech of strained metal behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see the thing tearing through the side of the vehicle as if it were paper. It squeezed through, leaving animal matter behind, smeared on the side of the van as it stepped out.
As it began to take stride after him, Rodrigo turned and ran. A deep, rumbling howl emitted from behind him and the force of the sound wave knocked him forward and to the side where he knocked his head against a tree. He felt dizzy as he forced himself to his feet and continued running, feeling himself vomiting down the front of himself but not taking the time to care, let alone wipe himself off. He felt his heard pounding, the hitch in his breathing as he labored to stay ahead of this congealed body of dead flesh as it bounded through the woods after him. Its stride seemed to lengthen and grow faster somehow. He refused to turn and look, the smell floating past him as he tried to keep up his pace.
The ground began to tremble. He felt like he was running on a treadmill, while the thing behind him only grew closer. His lungs felt like they were about to shut down and deep down he knew that this race was soon going to be over.
He didn’t see the tree root that tangled him up but he suddenly found himself face down in the mud. He had a few moments to savor this before the full weight of the thing crashed down on his back and he felt the pain of any number of different animals’ teeth rip into his flesh, pulling and tearing. The world went dark around him, chased by the smell of rotting meat.
The next night, the Saturday driver pulled off onto the shoulder to clean up the pile of remains he had spotted. He paused for a moment, not even sure what kind of a body he was looking at, laughing at how much it looked like human remains. Whatever it had been, the other animals around had clearly been having their way with it.
He shrugged, scooped up what he could and tossed it into the back of the van, along with the rest.
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