RoadKill

It is late at night on U.S. Route 79, the south-north highway that starts from central Texas and ends in southwest Kentucky. A massive storm just past making the roads slick and glistening like the skin on a frog. A mist is forming, crawling it's way out of the woodline and onto the highway.

A rig and its wagon barrel forward, hitting triple digits on the highway. The driver is a heavy-set man in his early forties sporting a long salt and pepper beard, wearing a faded green and white cap with a duck logo on it. 

The cab has trinkets and ornaments that he has collected on his many travels across the country. In the passenger seat, a collection of magazines and a half-eaten cheeseburger contained in styrofoam along with empty beer cans are his companions tonight. On the dashboard, he has taped a few pictures of his family at home, accompanied by postcards of the states he's been across.

He's body is buzzing after the last beer he drowned, and he is happy and full of energy, singing the lyrics to the song "Bad Moon Rising" by CCR, with his body slightly bouncing, moving to the tune and melodies.

He is almost across the border of Texas and Louisiana and has a deadline to meet. The cargo he's hauling was picked up in a yard in Round Rock after his last drop. 

 "Mother Goose," his travel agent told him that some strange suits dropped by and "strongly urged" them to hitch this particular wagon and take it to a location in Kentucky by tomorrow afternoon. They also throw in the added incentive of extra money, which is always great.

The driver concurred and picked up the haul. He barely stopped since he left except for the little rest area in the next county over. The driver is trying to outrun the oncoming fog but can't seem to shake it. A wave of mist is clouding the road, closing in on him from both sides of the highway.

 "Should have gotten back on the road instead of playing with the lot lizard.", he thought. He turns on the high beams as he catches a grey mass several feet in front of him. 

The driver blows his horn and starts to slow down but is too late, and his truck and cargo bumps violently as he runs over whatever was trying to pass in front of the truck. 

"Oh, hell!" he said as he slows down and comes to a complete stop—his heart races as the trucker contemplates on what he just saw.

Moments pass, and he finally gets the courage to see what he has killed. The driver dismounts the truck and grabs his flashlight. The mist around him is thick as soup with four-way lights blink off and on giving it a crimson tint. 

As he makes his way towards the back, he shines his light under the rig. Pieces of viscera and fur mixed with blood cover the undercarriage. As he moved further, a shift in the air blew the stench that was coming from the horrid smell of blood and guts that permeated the air.

 "Jesus Christ!? What is that?" as he covered his nose and mouth. The trail of blood and guts led him to the back of the trailer as the beam from his light moved to the large lump of fur and blood he ran over.

He followed the trail that led him to the thing he hit. The coat began to shift as the driver got closer. Its fur contracts, and the muscles and bone morphs and shrinks. The more it changes, the less animal it looks. 

The form it takes shape is of a human—a man. 

The driver approaches the body. The man is fully nude, with his midsection burst open like a birthday pinata. His eyes go from looking cat-like to human in seconds. The driver looks around to see if there's anyone else on the road. 

The dead man's midsection begins to shift and reform. As the intestines align itself with the rest of his body, whispers grow louder as they cut through the silence of the night. It's pretty close. The diver sprints back to the cab.

He's seated inside as the emergency lights cast big shadows on his rig. The shadows move toward the body as he takes off. In the side-view mirror, the creatures come out of hiding and converge on the body. The mist slowly envelops the furry monstrosities as they turn to look at him.

The emergency lights are still blinking as he cuts through the mist. His palms are sweating, but the grip is firm on the wheel. The throbbing of his temples beats like a tribal drum. His heart feels like jumping out of his chest. His mouth was dry as the copper taste filled the back of his throat. He was a witness to nightmares. 

He grabs a bottle of water that's in the back of his cab. He untwists the cap and takes a swig. 

The taste of warm acidic liquid hit his throat, causing him to spew the watery bile out of his mouth and onto the dashboard and window. He coughs and spits, throwing the bottle out of the window. 

The bottle bounces off to the road as he looks at the side view mirror. He sees nothing but fog.

His breathing is heavy. There's tightness of his arm, and it's harder for him to gain any circulation, and he is losing consciousness. 

The driver loosens his grip on the steering wheel and starts to swerve back and forth on the highway. He grabs the hand mic and tries to communicate, but the CB keeps cutting off and on.

The truck pulls off the road, making it way into the woods. The rig and its wagon bulldoze through low branches and brush as it's on a head collision with a tree.

The diver sank further into unconsciousness. "Besty, my sweet Besty," he said breathlessly. He blacks out. 

The combination of metal, glass, tree bark and human mass creates a cacophony of destruction and mayhem, waking the night with its earth-shattering call.

The wagon jackknifes and rips itself off the hinges. It flies through the air and tumbles forward, becoming a rectangular pinball as it bounces off of the trees using them as a bumper.

With a loud slam, the wagon stops, and it's doors pop as the bodies of creatures pore out from the back. 

The body of the driver is flung forward and lands with a wet thud and the moist ground.

A group of hulking shadows converges on the mess. The furry shadows survey the damage and their lost brothers and sisters, trying to see if they are alive. They are not.

They grab the tucker and drag him away.

The trucker is lying in the middle of a field with several of the giant furry creatures surrounding him. The pain from his limbs wake him as his vision clears; it dawns on him that his saviors are the animals that he came across earlier that night.

The creatures have him tied up with each of his limbs spread on the ground. The trucker screams, but no one other than the monsters can hear him. The low growling from the group gives a slight tremble to the ground as one of the creatures moves towards him.

"I'm sorry I--" he is cut off by one of the creatures putting his hand on his mouth. It says, "One for another." The animals converge on the trucker, tearing into him as he screams.