A Killer Friendship

John had been driving home from his class reunion for hours, and though he would never admit this to his wife, he had somehow gotten himself completely lost. He had very little sense of direction as it was, and he relied heavily on his phone’s GPS to get him just about anywhere. The current problem was that the GPS just kept rerouting and rerouting and taking him down so many side streets and backroads that he was now driving down a winding road surrounded by endless trees on either side. He knew for a fact he hadn’t driven down a road like this on the way up. Or, at least, he thought he knew. His sense of direction really could have just been that bad.

           A sign ahead was approaching. He turned his brights on to see it better, taking note of the rust stains on it.

NOW ENTERING OAKWOOD

POPULATION: 2,657

           “Oakwood?” John said in a panic. He definitely didn’t remember driving through somewhere called Oakwood on his way up. He really was lost.

           “I should have flown,” he said to himself, his nerves in a frenzy. “I should have broken down and paid for a plane ticket.” But his wife couldn’t even take off work long enough to go on a weekend trip to his hometown with him, and the cost of plane tickets were murder these days. An arm and a leg each way.

           A flash of lightning struck, followed by rumbling thunder. The rain came after that, starting as a few fat drops and then coming down like bullets on his car. Soon it was coming down in torrents, making it difficult to see the road. His windshield wipers bounced back and forth in a flash in front of him.

           He groaned and held his phone up, trying his best to read the little map on the GPS. He couldn’t make sense of it, and it didn’t help that, once again, the map froze and said REROUTING in big gray letters.

           “Dammit,” he said, the frustration rising in him.

He looked up at the road and barely had time to gasp at the hulking figure he was speeding toward.

He jerked the steering wheel to the right, sending his car spinning on the wet ground. His car had suddenly turned into the Whirl ‘n Hurl at the state fair, the one John said he would never go on again because it lived up to its name.

For a moment, John was sure the car would flip. He braced for impact, shutting his eyes and tensing his whole body. But nothing happened. After a moment, he opened one eye and peered about. His car had stopped on the side of the road.

           He only took a moment to collect his thoughts before he remembered the figure in the road. It must have been a man, John determined. Had he looked up a fraction of a second later, he would have hit a man with his car!

           Despite the rain, John quickly leaped out of the car and ran over to where the man stood by the side of the road, perfectly still. He must have been a hitchhiker.

           “Hey, buddy, are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off as he got a better look at the man.

           He was one of the biggest men John had ever seen, hulking above him with unusually broad features. John had never really been tall, but he didn’t consider himself short either. Not until he stood next to this guy. The man’s long-sleeved shirt and black work pants were a bit worse for wear, and he held an axe, one that looked like it was made for cutting wood. But the most interesting thing about the man was his face. He had obviously been in some accident, seeing as half of his mug looked like it had been melted while the other half was covered in thick scars. He barely had any bit of nose left, only two nostril holes. His forehead jutted out above his eyes, framed by a wet veil of thin, dark hair.

           On top of almost hitting someone, John had almost hit a poor victim of some terrible mishap. He felt awful.

           “Jeez, man, I really am sorry. Listen, why don’t I give you a ride home, huh? I insist,” John said, hoping the poor guy didn’t hate him for almost slamming him with his car. The man stood as still as a statue.

           John ran over to the passenger side and opened the door, motioning for the giant man to get in. For a moment, the man only stood there, silently staring at him. Then, he made his way toward John like a tank slowly barreling toward enemy fire. He gripped his axe tight.

           John circled around to the driver’s seat and hopped in, glad to be out of the rain. The giant man leaned in with his axe.

           “Oh, here, let me get that for you,” John said. He reached out and took the axe from the man, setting it gently in his backseat to avoid tearing up the leather.

           For a moment, the man stared at John again. He must be a little slow, John thought to himself. Poor guy. Finally, the giant man slumped down into the passenger side, his figure squeezing a bit too tight on the window and roof.

           “So, you live this way, pal?” John asked as he adjusted his car and started rolling down the road once more.

           The man didn’t say anything. Instead he made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a yell, and John caught a glimpse of his mouth as he did. The man was missing the majority of his teeth.

           “I’ll take that as a yes,” John said. “Listen, I know this is really weird, me insisting on giving you a ride. I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything, I just feel really bad for almost hitting you. Plus it was raining, you know, I—”

           The man interrupted him with another grunt.

           Maybe he was bitter about John almost hitting him. John would certainly be mad if someone had almost hit him. Then again, John didn’t spend many rainy nights standing on the side of the road, but to each his own.

           There was an awkward silence as they rode down the winding path. John reached over and turned on the radio, tuning it until he found the right station. It was playing some old country songs from decades ago.

           Realizing he hadn’t eaten in a while John turned the overhead light on and fished around for his bag of pork rinds he’d gotten at the last gas station he’d stopped at. He glanced over at the giant man, and in the light he could see reddish brown stains on his arms and shirt.

           “Hey is that…is that blood on you?” John asked.

           The man turned his large head to face John, then lifted his arm, slowly reaching in the backseat where the axe lay…

           “Hang on, I have some wet naps in here,” John said. He reached for the space in the car door and pulled out a few wipes. “Here you go, pal. What, were you hunting with that axe or something?”

           The large man didn’t answer, but stared at the wipes for a moment before taking them. He half-heartedly wiped at the stains on his gargantuan hands before dropping the wipes on the floor.

           The music stopped on the radio, interrupted by an important news update. John stopped crunching on his pork rinds to listen better.

           “…four teenagers found dead around the woody area of Oakwood…”

           John perked up, a chilling sensation snaking down his spine. Despite his awful sense of direction, he remembered the rusty sign he’d driven by a few minutes prior.

           “…slashed to bits, almost unidentifiable. One had their face completely bashed in. That’ll take some investigating before they figure out who that kid was. Another was a girl missing an arm and a leg. The murders are just gruesome. Folks, there is a deranged killer on the loose, do not stop for any hitchhikers near the woods. Keep all doors and windows locked…”

           John’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening as he slowly turned to the hulking man next to him. “My God…”

           The giant man twisted in his seat, reaching for the gleaming axe once more…

           “If I had left you on the side of the road, that killer they’re talking about could have come after you next!” John said.

           The man froze.

           “Wow,” John breathed. “Glad I found you before that guy did. Pork rind?” He offered his bag to the man.

           With a slight shrug, the man reached into the bag, his meaty hand tearing the plastic along the sides. He tossed a pork rind into his twisted mouth.

           The music started playing once more, and for a few minutes they enjoyed their bag of pork rinds. The rain let up outside, and John sped a little faster down the road. Finally, a turn toward the right came upon them, and the giant man pointed and made his loud grunting sound.

           “You live this way?” John asked.

           The man gave one awkward nod of his head.

           John turned right, feeling the smooth road turn into a gravelly dirt path. He drove slowly for another few minutes until they entered upon a rundown house, just barely bigger than a shack. From what John could see, the wood looked like it was rotting. Shutters hung loosely off of the windows. Dark stains splotched across the place. The silhouette of a barn towered behind the house.

           “This is where you live?” John asked.

           The giant man grunted in response.

           “Does anyone live here with you?”

           The man shrugged.

           “No family nearby or anything?”

           The large man lowered his head and gave a curt shake.

           “Well, that’s a real shame, you know. No offense, but someone in your condition shouldn’t be left all by himself all the time. What if an emergency happens? I mean, you can barely talk. Again, no offense, buddy. I just find it outrageous.” John was practically fuming at the injustice.

           A sniffing sound followed by uneven grunts next to John caught his attention. The man sounded like he was crying.

           “Aw, pal, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leaned over and patted the big guy on the back. “Listen, next time I’m down in Oakwood, I’ll stop by and visit. How does that sound?”

           The big guy shrugged, nodding his head. Another moment passed by before the man opened the passenger door and squeezed himself out of the car.

           “Oh, don’t forget your axe, buddy!” John said.

           The man, who looked taller and broader than before, opened the backseat and yanked his axe out. The point of it gleamed in the moonlight. He closed the car door with extreme force and stepped over to the driver’s side, where John had his window rolled down.

           The giant man stood there, axe gripped tightly in his hands, his disfigured face glowering down at John.

           A noise like a shrill scream made both men turn toward the barn. For a moment, the giant man looked back and forth between John and the source of the noise. On any other man, John might have thought the big guy had a look of concern on his mangled face.

           “What do you have in there, pigs? I heard a pig squeal so loud one time I thought my eardrum would bust. Anyway, can I get to the highway if I keep going down that road?”

           The big man nodded with a grunt.

           “Perfect,” John said, feeling hope for the first time that night that he might find his way home before sunup. “Thanks, man. You stay safe now. Lock up those doors and windows, there’s a madman on the loose.”

           The man nodded once more as John rolled up his window and backed out of the drive. The hulking figure of his unexpected new pal faded into a tiny shadow.

           John turned back onto the winding road, whistling along to the tune on the radio until it turned to the news. The broadcast was about the deranged killer again. John shut it off. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his drive worried about the big guy living all alone in that rundown shack.

           As he rounded a bend, something up ahead on the road seemed to be moving toward him. He slowed his speed, and as he got close enough to see what it was, he took in a shocked breath.

           “Christ!” he shouted, pressing hard on the gas.

           A young man ran toward him, wild-eyed and covered in shining blood. He raised what looked like a tree branch wildly above his head, screaming at John to stop. Every instinct in John’s body told him this must be the lunatic that had murdered those kids.

           Swerving around the crazed young man, who looked more like a teenager as he sped by, John picked up his phone and dialed 911.

           “What a night,” John breathed as he waited for the dispatch, feeling almost heroic knowing he would help the small community of Oakwood stop an evil, terrorizing bastard.