Ides of March: Four Horror Stories of Revenge, Backwoods Violence, and Roadside Monsters

0:00 Hello, my spookys. Tonight we're cracking open. And IDEs of March compilation one of four for the aforementioned month, featuring four stories built on that special kind of dread where the air feels normal, the world looks normal, and yet underneath it all, some sharp teeth are grinnae. This is the month where promises get tested, where a harmless choice turns into a hinge that swings the wrong way, and where the past doesn't just knock on the door, it lets itself in. You'll feel it in the places that pretend to be safe. A cozy room with laughter that's a little too I don't know what, a town that remembers every insult like a family heirloom, a stretch of wilderness that looks like freedom right up until it's clearly not.

1:06 And a lonely highway where the only sound is your tires and your heartbeat arguing about whether you should have kept driving or not. These stories aren't about monsters the way you're used to. They're about the moment the mask slips, when someone's patience snaps, when the universe tilts, the road goes quiet, and you realize you've been alone in the dark for way too long. They're about payback that doesn't need an invitation, and justice that doesn't care if you're ready. So dim the lights, my spookies, get comfortable as we step into this collection from the Weekly Spooky Vault. And remember the IDEs of March isn't just a date on a calendar, it's a worn that sooner or later, every debt gets paid. And remember there's a new scary story every single Wednesday here at Weekly Spooky. So make sure you're subscribed, and let's begin. Hell Hath No Fury by Aaron Cook, Oh, shoot the cookies. Zelda may Darling had been in the kitchen all day, and the stress of hosting a dinner party had caused her to nearly forget about the chocolate chip treats that were roasting in the oven.

2:40 She fitted her dainty hands into mits and plucked her signature dessert from the sauna. No blemishes of overcooking to be found. Pulling the elongated trays out, she didn't wait two minutes before conducting a taste test. Delicious, if she did say so herself. She treated herself to a second one. Jake wouldn't approve of the extra snack, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. There was more than enough food, she justified with internal guilt. The housewife had been in domestic bliss for three full years and was still in her early twenties. Born in smalltown Arkansas in nineteen fifty, the bell had left home to attend Texas A and M.

3:28 Towards the end of her first year there, she worked an alumni ball where she met Big Jake Darling, an oil bigwig and generous donor to his old stomping grounds. Despite the three decade age gap, Jake fell madly in love with the fair skinned, dark haired server in the Go Go boots, and his resources made it pretty easy for Zelda May to ignore the pot belly, receding hairline, and uneven mustache. After mere weeks of whirlwind courting, the pair joined in matchrmony in front of a crowd of hundreds at his ninety acre ranch in the otherwise modest village of Tumbleweed. Jake was eager to prove to his new bile bride that he had learned from the mistakes of his first two marriages. There had been some downs.

4:17 Jake was ornery, hypercritical, and mentioned his appreciation for the anatomy of other women, most even younger than her, quite often. But he was a man, and oh what a man he could be. That little wallflower who entered college station would be surprised at what she became. Prior to her nuptials, Zelda May's culinary expertise topped out at popping microwave popcorn. But now she was a regular Julia child. She chuckled at what her younger self would say if she found out about the elaborate shindigs she now held on a regular basis. Tonight she would be hosting a soiree for Jake's colleagues and their wives. It was an important one.

5:00 Cattle mogul k L. Bandy had accepted an invitation. Joining his inner circle was a guaranteed ticket to political success, which the oilman craved. He had been locally beloved on the village council for a number of years, but he was sick of judging pie bake offs and attending ribbon cutting ceremonies for libraries. The state Senate was calling him. All Bandy had to do was hand him the phone. Ten minutes had passed since Jake's promised five thirty homecoming. This worried Zelda May sick. It was a pretty common occurrence for him to overshoot his eta, but President never made it peaceful. He was a wealthy and powerful man, which automatically put a target on his back. The poor wife never knew if her gregarious partner had blown away the time chatting with an old chum, or had been assassinated by an envious political opponent. The hypothetical loss of her paramour made her sick to her stomach, but she couldn't regress the paranoia. Finally, Jake stumbled in, having gotten a head start on the spirit embidement of the night. Hi, Honey, Zelda May lit up, Hey biscuit. Jake hiccuped his pet name for her, as his massive jowls jiggled and his pale white belly cut into his Everything's Bigger in Texas belt buckle. He stunk of the cheapest gin Brady's Bar

6:33 had to offer, and the collar of his white Colonel Sanders' suit was scuffed. In Zelda May's eyes, she was looking at Paul Newman. The guests should be here soon, getting there. You need any help? Well, actually, if you could Jake's sobering snooze began. The second it was even implied there was a way he could streamline the toil of his labored spouse. It was no. She was pretty sure she liked doing housework. There were still several dishes she needed to magically conjure before nine o'clock. Then she needed to wash up the feast worked up a sweat, and it would be unladylike to not present herself as immaculate as possible. Not that long ago, the looming threat of the deadline would have scared her something fierce, but not anymore. Sure Enough, the spread was laid out, and she emerged from the powder room, renewed in her pearls and heels, mere minutes before the first ring of the doorbell, the sound of which revived her downed Bow, who quickly wiped the drool from his face. Harvey Lois the Learners were the beneficiaries of the death of the mister's father, which granted them control over one of the state's largest construction firms. Harvey had never actually seen a pile of rubble, and Lois, also from old money, was prone to make statements that made her formerly modest friend feel insecure about

8:04 her background. Up next were the Duprees. Don had recently acquired controlling interest in the popular, inexpensive and small chain Selman's Department Store, which he was eagerly licking his lips to merge with a larger company. Flonetta and Ducky Perry arrived shortly after years of entertaining them hadn't shed a light on what they did for a living. All Zelda May knew was they were filthy rich. Just when Zelda May was about to shepherd her company into the dining room for their banquet, a limousine pulled up to the Darling residence. The driver exited his position to release an invitee that Zelda May had forgotten about, but Jake certainly hadn't.

8:50 K l Bandy. Everybody stopped what they were doing to gaze upon the richest man in the lone star state, which angered Lois Learner, who had only he belted out a Stanza and a half as she cooed and curled over the piano. The VIP looked nothing like the image Zelda May had cooked up in her head. She had pictured a good old boy with roughly the same features as her beloved and his colleagues. Instead, a decrepit skeleton shambled up to her porch, escorted on each shoulder by a Miss Texas contender. The man half as old as the Earth and his gal pals glacially meandered towards his admirers. Inside, an irate Jake furiously barked at Zelda May to stop daydreaming and open the door for the guest of honor, long before he reached the welcome mat, how do mister Brandy and excited Don Dupree powered through the crowd to win the race. To determine the old man's inaugural conversation, Dupree firmly grasped Bandy's hand in a shake which cracked the Methuselah of Meat's worn joints. Embarrassed, Double d frantically apologized to the unoffended baron. Despite his assurance, Don replayed the moment in his head over and over, removing himself from the camaraderie to self flagellate. Hello, mister Bandy, beamed Zelda May. Jake has told me so much about can we get you anything? Mister Bandy? The King of the

10:21 Castle stifled his wife he shot her a dirty look. As the ancient one declined, Jake pulled Zelde May aside and mentioned his distaste for the comment. When Bandy was out of earshot. What things was she implying he had mentioned? Did he look suspicious? Just now she was going to blow his big shot. Sorry, honey, just don't talk to him or look at him. The convoy entered the pure white dining room. Effusive scores were given to Zelda May's creations before a bite was even taken, including many from the treasured newcomer who sat in the head chair after the US usual alpha seated his territory for this one night only. Convival talk among the boys followed as the women chatted about past and future dinner parties. Although a rattled Don mostly just nodded in agreement, too worried about throwing another boneheaded interception. This was their one chance to impress a man that could fatten their portfolios. Ducky Perry fantasized about his soon to be new best friend handing over the deed to one of his tremendous golf courses.

11:32 Jake took every inch to bring up his steakhouse concept. Tired of all beef all the time. The gazillionaire never offered much response to the proposal. Did this guy even know anything about running a restaurant? Further incessant, half baked hypotheticals continued to line dance on the geezer's already feeble nerves. The brisket was excellent, the corn was phenomenal, and the apple pie had been some of the best he had tasted in his countless years on this planet. But another round of rump kissers had left Bandy exasperated. Zelda May quit staring at mister Bandy. Jake reprimanded his adult wife as if she was a toddler with a tattling habit.

12:17 I wasn't, she defended herself. Another round of tupperware talk had been her limit for the past ten minutes. She had been zoned out, affixed on nothing in particular. Yes, you was now apologize. It's quite all right, Bandy foolishly said, in an agitation that seemed to imply he was more irritated by him than her. Sometimes she gets like this, like what Zelda May countered, now, more anxious to hear her fictional shortcomings than appearing demure. Don't start, you started it, folks. I think I'm gonna call it a night, the esteemed mogul said, as he gestured for him twins to help him up and out. Part of him felt bad for his dogpiled host, but most of him wanted to thank her for giving him an excuse to escape this never ending assault of false praise. See what you did, Jake blared, to a degree that the heart of hearing Bandy heard from a room away. Zelda May Honey Floetta's fake accent permeated with a passive aggressiveness that elicited a cold draft down the pariah's spine. I hope you're happy. I almost had a third car dealership, Don whined. The grumbling gaggle emotionally and wordlessly returned to their vehicles, leaving Zelda May alone to face Jake's wrath. In addition to Tonight's alleged

13:47 staring gaff, he found nitpicks in the food he scarfed down, and found flaws with her hair, makeup and chubby cheeks. If she kept letting herself go, that girl he saw today day after work might just have to move in. Jake continued his relentless attack, which would have driven Zelda May to tears if she hadn't cried them all out over the years. As a compulsion, she started to work on the everest of dishes. Of course, the supposed clean freak didn't offer her a modicum of help. At least he was talking to her. That was a refreshing change of pace. She began scrubbing the tainted plates in a fury as Jake continued his verbal bulrush a sutty mess, Zelda May pulled the dishwasher rack out and marched to the fridge for some chardonnay, which she elected to down straight from the bottle. Jake scoffed at the lush she could be, and attempted to pry the bottle loose much bigger his stripsack was overpowering, spiking and staining the kitchen floor with wet glass. Naturally, this was seen as purely Zelda May's error, which resulted in a final flurry of condescension.

14:58 Sick of hearing these judgments, the harried housewife gave her husband a shove her anger, propelling her strength to unprecedented levels. The back of Jake's boots skidded over the edge of spillage. The hoss tried to compose his balance, which only caused him to dance more erratically before he fell over backwards in a heap, cracking his neck on the still exposed dishwasher. The crunch was louder than the snap of the wishbone of her famous Thanksgiving turkey. No choking, no throes, no mournful departing apology, instant death. Stunned, the accidental killer stared back at her unintentional victim. The eyes that had been full of fire just seconds before were now ghostly white.

15:54 She didn't blame herself. It was a self induced accident, a fatal folly caused by his own foolishness. Now single part of her felt sad about the loss of her partner, but more of her felt relieved that there was finally some quiet in here. Now she could tidy this mess in piece calm as could be. Zelda May grabbed the mop and dust pan and commenced the arduous clean up, a chore that was made more difficult by the two hundred and fifty pound hindrance that blocked some of the puddle. Manslaughter was no excuse for a dirty home. My husband is dead, she phoned the cops. As hard as she tried to appear hysterical, she was no actress. The death of Big Jake Darling sent shockwaves through the local community.

16:48 Although Zelda May figured she would be spending the foreseeable future playing the part of the sympathetic widow, her adopted home quickly made her a female Peter Sellar's and cast her in many roles a bloodthirsty harpie, a cold blooded Jezebel, and an unscrupulous gold digger who pulled out the ultimate gambit to collect Jake's money, which, unbeknownst to them, was sealed off by the prenup he convinced her to sign. Many claimed they saw this coming years ago. There was always something off about that Darling woman. Even with forensic experts confirming the death by misadventure theory, the late's buddy won Sheriff Zeke Hitchins decided to treat this as what they all knew. It was a heartless murder. That year's Trial of the Century followed. Soon everyone with access to a newspaper had an opinion on Zelda May Darling, Jake's financial accomplishments, subjective platitudes, and status as a local leader.

17:51 Were broadcasted non stop, with no mention of his tantrums or philandering proclivities. On the other side of the token, any assumed character defect of Zelda May was taken with a tower of salt. Don dupre mentioned the foaming madness he witnessed first hand at the dinner party, and wondered aloud how he narrowly escaped the massacre. The defendant was powerless and unable to bring up the drunken not so nice words Harvey Lerner had to say about Jake that a similarly inebriated Lois had blurted to her during an avon social Zelda May was without any support. Even her own mother had severed ties, fearful of what having a cozy relationship with her criminally insane daughter would have on her own reputation. I didn't raise her that way, you know.

18:44 Mamma Darling made sure to alert everyone in the court house the judgment was swift. Zelda May. Darling was going to fry. The poor girl had made the mistake of bagging a lofty and influential trophy. TE million dollars of leverage had been the difference between life without parole and the electric chair. The consensus was euphoric. Some felt even the most damning conviction was still too lenient for that bitch. Too bad they couldn't personally summon Satan to drag her to the nether world where she belonged. State endorsed killing is a lengthy process. Although scheduled for a nineteen seventy two execution, Zeldamie's lawyers appealed and petitioned as much as they could, much to the chagrin of the mob. Years passed.

19:36 No longer was she a bubbly socialite or an angelic homecoming queen. She had grown hardened by the prison system. Unkempt hair, a haggard face, a perpetual scowl were all that remained. A new charity believed they had found a loophole to prevent her death from being a crispy one, which earned them hatred and mockery. It was too late anyway, she wanted to die. Finally, on the hottest day of nineteen eighty three, Zelda May was ushered to the chamber. Her last meal the previous night was two cookies, one more than Jake permitted her to have. The condemned was placed in the sparky fairy and asked if she had any final words. She had none. A guard walked to the lever. He had been a mere child during Zeldemay's trial.

20:33 His mother and father made her out to be a boogie woman, but there was a sadness in her wild eyes, a story only she knew. Still, this is what the people of Texas craved. If there was a way to move her demise to a packed house at the Astrodome, few would protest it. The guard swung the switch. Zelda May's pupils bulged and her limbs threat The watts coursing through her veins were nothing compared to the hatred flowing inside her vengeful brain. She outlasted the average survival time by ten agonizing seconds out of pure spite. Even when public Enemy number one had been reduced to a charred hunk of flesh, the overseers were fearful she had even more fight to give. She's Hell's problem now, boys. The warden congratulated the elimination of the menace. Let's hope they keep her. Hope. You bitches are having a good sleigh.

21:43 Delaney Parker and her flamboyant co host, Chet screamed their popular trademark greeting before they launched into the exposition of their latest vlog. A consummate influencer Delaney insisted on fourteen more takes before she was satisfied. Chet and Delaney were the team behind Booze and Bludgeonings, a lifestyle brand they had started together four years prior while attending UCLA. What started off as an online channel devoted to their mutual interest in both true crime and alcohol blossomed into a multi level brand that included a podcast, t shirts, and of course, their very own ipa. The duo was most famous for their broadcasts from murder sites. Their most popular episode up to this point had been the night they braved the Lizzie Borden Inn. Although it was a bit intimidating to be on the grounds of one of the most infamous slayings ever, neither talking had believed in the supernatural.

22:44 Contrary to what their subscribers believed. Chet had added those orbs and moans and post right after they filmed their forty minutes worth and bolted. Their fans lapped that slop up B and B was a polarizing empire. Many felt their content was crass and exploitive, not to mention derivative. However, those critics were drowned out by their adoring acolytes, who loved to live vicariously through the pair's Instagram page just as much as they enjoyed the journey into the macabre. Their latest stunt was sure to be their biggest hit yet, a live midnight broadcast from the grave of Zelda May Darling, a Southern bell who rang for the last time in nineteen eighty two. In the forty years since Zeldamy's death, Tumbleweed had grown up to a fair sized city of sixty thousand, several miles from the pauper's grave they had given their most notorious former resident. Despite the shame of her now dead or senile dammers, the terror of Tumbleweed had been given a forgiving retrospective thanks to countless televised reenactments which elaborated on the kangaroo court in justice she had been forced to end, as well as revelatory evidence Jake Darling may not have been a nice man. A museum in her honor now stood not far from the very same court house she had been mortally punished. Cheap paperbacks inspired by her saga, littered bookstores, a street fair

24:17 sold nachos and cotton candy. On the weekend closest to the anniversary of the night she lost her innocence, tourists, mostly women who occasionally had half the mind to butcher their own dufuss husbands, flooded the streets of the town that had ostracized her. Zelda May was forced to watch it all somewhere, every cheap trinket, every hollow word of support, every dollar made on her trauma, a montage of retribution against her, a cosmic decree for an unpremeditated act. No longer human, she still felt the pain of her penance burn across her changed image. She pleaded for her unseen tormentor to stop, which only intensified the noise. Four decades of torture had felt like four eons. Where was this adulation back in her own day? These parasites worshiping her were no better than the cocksuckers who put her away.

25:19 The cycle flipped back to rage as she gnashed and snarled, vowing to break free. Half Way across town, two of those profiteers had taken up shelter at the Lone Star motel. Surveying her outfit for the big show, Delaney was assured by her boyfriend that she looked banging as he cradled her body, which earned a push. No macho bullshit. Chet needed to focus and stay in the caricature they had created. It was funnier, and the demographics suggested their male viewership might take a hit if they found out she was off the market. This was a big night and he wasn't going to ruin it. Neither were the haters online Tonight, she was going to break the Internet. Fuck I keep losing service. It was now eleven fifty eight and the event seemed on thin ice due to spotty reception. Chet was getting fed up with Delaney's devinus. The Hicks had buried Zelda May so far out in the boonies that Delaney feared they wouldn't make it on time. Finally, right over top the only recently installed marker two bars lit up.

26:35 It was gonna happen. Zelda May's reputation had allowed them to become innovators. Cemeteries usually frowned on trifling among the graves. Delaney learned that the hard way. She took a deep breath and visualized the viral hit she had on her hands. The countdown hit zero, the red light went on, the marshy ground began to open up. What the fuck Chet said in his natural gruff accent, which broke there no unbleaped swearing rule, Chet girl, We're live, Delaney sternly reminded as she panned the camera, just as her lover was forcefully snatched by a bony hand, first by the leg and then quickly by the throat. Fuck all of you, the revenant hissed as she smashed another man's neck on purpose this time. Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god. Delaney took off, half in fear, half in amazement.

27:39 All she had to do was outrun this old bag of bones and she'd have the most watched video of all time. Forty years of rust and Rod had not slowed Zelda may Down, the former track star, let her prey have a head start just to give her some false hope, and then sicked her the bones of her malformed legs, twisting and bending with each stride until she pounced on this intruder, pinning her against the side of the vehicle. They had violated her resting place with she was a pretty girl, roughly the same age she had been the night she really died. Zelda May looked at the ghastly visage in the rearview window, gasped, and with one violent tug, ripped Delaney's face clean off. She needed it more than her the triple homicider realized she had crudely applied the mask and adjusted it over the exposed rottage, shewing away a few worms as well. She was young and beautiful again, with a whole town to paint red.

28:50 Zelda May reset her lower body and made her way towards Tumbleweed. The audience couldn't believe the sheer tackiness of this spectacle, boos and bludgeonings faking their own deaths, a phony monster, never ending footage of dirt. The channel had truly jumped the shark. Even their most loyal followers logged off the live stream in droves. By the time the battery had ran out, the incident was so panned Chet and Delaney never made another video or public appearance ever again.

29:40 Valley Rat by Charles Campbell. What exactly is a valley rat? The first prerequisite for being a valley rat is that you live in one of the tiny towns along the length of road Highway for twenty one. The second prerequisite for being a valley rat is that you've struggled in life without realizing it. Hot Dogs on loaf, bread, vienna, sausages and soda crackers, bare feet and sand spurs, Stealing kisses from a little girl you like before she pops you in the nose. Because valley girls were tough, You grinned back with a bloody nose because it was worth it.

30:23 Valley rats are mostly kind hearted, but some have mean streaks and a few are downright cruel. This story is about what happens when a kind hearted valley rat crossed paths with a particularly cruel valley rat. It started one hot summer day in nineteen eighty one at the minute shop. Charles Proser was behind the counter watching the kids flip through the comics. Dusty Turner walked in, covered in dirt from head to foot. He looked like he was wrestling in a pigpen. Dang, Dusty, what'd you get yourself into? Charles asked from behind the counter. I got in a fight with one of the Elliot boys. Dusty replied, his filthy T shirt was ripped at the collar and the beginnings of a good shiner circled his right eye. Just one, was it, Jesse or Johnny, Charles asked, as a grin crept across his face. Well before he was done, it was both of them, Dusty answered, that's what I figured.

31:28 Them boys go everywhere together. Let me guess you started whooping on one of them pretty good and the other jumped in. That about the size of it, Yes, sir, but I beat the snot out of Jesse before Johnny jumped in, and he didn't jump in wholehearted. I can tell you that they ripped my shirt and Johnny popped me in the eye first thing. He ain't too bad off, but Jesse probably had to go in the house and lay down. Dusty finished with a grin of his own. That's good. Them boys ain't nothing but trouble. Glad you handled you yourself, Dusty. It'll make him think twice before they mess with you again. Pick yourself a free comic, Charles said, in total admiration of the boy. Thank you, mister proser. Dusty beamed and joined the other kids at the comic rack. He grabbed the first batman comic he could get his hands on. This is the one, mister Proser, Dusty said, and held the comic in the air. Charles didn't speak, but nodded as Dusty smiled. The next person to walk into the store was a Burnett Town police officer named Margie Ersy. Margie's look was solemn and her attention was immediately on Dusty. Dusty, you getting a scrap with Jesse a little while ago, she asked. There was concern in her face, with her furrowed brow and serious demeanor. Yeah, he started with me, though, I promise Johnny jumped me too.

32:54 I was just taken up for myself, Dusty said. He felt, just by the look of things, that he may not be going straight home when he left the Minute shop. Well, I'm sorry to break the news to you like this, but Jesse's dead. He fell to the floor when he got back to their trailer and he didn't make it. His brother said, you killed him when the ambulance got there. Now, wait a minute, Charles Proser started in Dusty's defense. You know them elliot boys, both of them valley rats, both of them always up to their ears in trouble, you know, as well as I do that. Dusty was just defending himself, and if the boy got the worst of it and paid the ultimate price for it, then it's on him.

33:38 Charles said. He was firm with it when he locked eyes with Margie. Look, Charles, I'm not saying you're wrong, but the fact of the matter is that that boy is dead and Dusty. She turned to face the boy, still clutching his Batman comic. Yes, ma'am, he replied. You're going to have to come with me to the precinct. We'll call your mama when we get there, Margie said and motioned toward the door. Dusty walked out the door with Margie right behind. Charles Proser was shaking his head behind the counter. As soon as Dusty stepped outside, he felt the stone crack against his forehead. It broke skin and the blood flowed down his nose just before the next rock cracked him in his right cheek. It was Johnny Elliott and his Valley famous home made slingshot. Johnny was deadly with that thing. Many squirrels and a few cats fell to his aim. Margie saw Johnny and turned to holler for him to stop. When the rock popped her in the left eye. She would lose it later.

34:38 On the operating table, Margie fell to her knees. Come on, Dusty, you killed my brother. There's only one way this is gonna go, Johnny screamed from ADDIE's gas station across the street. Dusty was pawing at his bloody forehead. Charles Proser came running out of the minute shop with his Remington pump. Johnny pinged Charles on his should, causing him to drop the shotgun. You get down to Caver Park, Dusty. We're gonna finish this thing there. You get there by three o'clock or all. Come and find you, Johnny shouted, before disappearing behind the gas station. With Margie still on her knees and Charles bending over to pick up the shotgun, Dusty took off toward ADDIE's. Johnny already disappeared in the woods behind the station, and Dusty knew it was useless trying to follow the boy. Johnny knew those woods better than anybody. Now that his brother was deceased, Dusty couldn't believe that Jesse was dead. Sure they were in a good scrap, and Dusty got some good licks in, but he'd seen Jesse and bigger and dirtier fights than what they had. It didn't make sense to Dusty, but the words of Johnny echoed in his mind. You get down to Caver Park, Dusty. He wondered if Margie heard the challenge.

35:55 Probably not. An approaching siren snapped Dusty out of his thoughts. It had to be coming for Margie. He didn't know if Johnny meant to hit her square in the eye, but he sure did, and Dusty knew it wasn't anything she could rinse out with water. A glass eye or a pirate patch was in Maggie's future. Dusty looked down and realized he was still clutching the Batman comic in his hand. He tossed it on the ground and stayed under the cover of woods, but close enough to four twenty one so he could hear the cars zoom by. He'd start heading to Caver. He was going to keep his date with Johnny. He just didn't know what he was going to do when he got there. Would he have to kill the other Valley rat too. Dusty walked a couple of miles. The blood had dried on his face and forehead. He was thirsty, as all get out, and the back of the convenience store called Balls stood out like an oasis in the desert. Dusty rummaged through his front pockets and pulled out all the change that he had. Dusty stared at his palm and counted seventy eight cents. That was enough for a co cola. He stepped into the shop and heard the distinct accent of Vencat Jagonnathan, the owner and operator of this establishment. Hello, Dusty, Vencat said when Dusty entered the store, Hey, mister Vencat, just need a co cola? Dousty, you don't look well,

37:25 are you all right? I'm fine, mister Vencat. It was a bike accident. Seeming convinced, Vencat dropped it and took two quarters from the rough looking boy. Dusty took long gulps and the twelve ounce can was empty in seconds. He was even thirstier than he thought. Dusty could see the sign for Harrison Caver Park at the top of the hill. Dusty sighed and continued his walk. Whatever happens was going to happen anyway, is what he kept telling himself. He wasn't going to his mama or the police. This was between two alley rats, and it would be settled between two valley rats. It was two forty five when Dusty made his way onto the walking track at Caver Park.

38:11 There was no sign of Johnny, and Dusty felt a bit of relief. He figured the Burnett Town PD was looking for both of them by now. Margie was in an operating room at Aiken Regional at that very moment, having her eye plucked out. Dusty walked toward the back of the park where the short nature trail began. There was a tiny man made creek that ran through to Langley Pond. Dusty figured Johnny would come through that way less eyes despot him, so Dusty would be right out in the open for him to see that he wasn't running, he wasn't hiding. He would fight to the death if that's what it took. What happened to Jesse was a shame, but it was Jesse's fault. Dusty saw him strolling towards him, traveling right beside the creek as he suspected, Johnny was whistling.

39:00 But it wasn't just any whistle. Dusty recognized it immediately as the whistle that he heard in an old Eastwood spaghetti Western. I'm here, Johnny, Dusty yelled in Johnny's direction. I see that. Johnny replied with a serpent's grin. You better drop that slingshot on the ground. I'm here with these. Dusty raised his fists. Johnny held the slingshot up in the air and tossed it. Dusty could hear it splash into the creek. This made Dusty feel a bit better. He was confident he could whoop Johnny one on one. Johnny's grin is what turned Dusty's confidence into hesitance. Johnny began running toward him, and Dusty took a fighter's stance, left foot out front, fists in front of his face, ready to pop a jab. When Johnny's face got close enough, Johnny was within reach and Dusty popped the job. Surprisingly, it didn't connect. Johnny ducked the jab and slashed at Dusty's belly with the concealed switchblade. Dusty didn't feel it at first. He spun to try to catch Johnny with a left hook, and he missed. Again, Johnny sliced him across the cheek. That's when Dusty felt the pain in his gut. You didn't think I was that fast, did you, big dust Johnny asked as he stepped back to admire his work. To tell you the truth. No, No, I didn't.

40:29 Dusty held his stomach as he felt the blood pouring from the wound. I should have known you wouldn't do this straight up, Dusty said, and continued, I didn't mean for your brother to die, Johnny. That's the god honest truth, Dusty. Johnny started with that same grin. Just so you know, before I kill you, you didn't kill Jesse. Johnny ran his fingers through his buzz cut and continued, I killed Jesse. Wait what? Dusty was puzzled. The fire in his gut was raging. Now, yeah, I killed him. Jesse was always the pussy, now you you ain't no pussy. I always had to jump in on his fights. He never had to jump in on mine, and I'd be embarrassed if he did. Jesse was a cry baby, and big Dust you gave me the out I needed. You beat the Jesus out of him. I'll give you. That might have busted a couple of his ribs. He was holding his side and whining like a little bitch when he was walking back home. Well, I went ahead and finished him off.

41:35 I cracked him in the back of the head with an axe handle. And we both know who I said, did it, Big dust I was helping my brother. I mean, you were wailing on him when I walked up on y'all, and you cracked him in the back of the head before I put that shiner on you, Johnny finished proudly. You killed your own brother, Dusty asked, clearly flabbergasted. Nobody ever saw Jesse without Johnny. They seemed like two peas in a pod. Yeah, and now I'm gonna kill you, and it ain't gonna be no secret. You think they'll put me away for killing the one that killed my brother? Dusty felt anger. This valley rat was going to kill him and tell the world he was a murderer. Dusty blocked out the pain and got back in his fighting stance. Well, Johnny, you done cut me. You're gonna be a pussy now and not face me straight up. You see the blood on my hands. I might bleed out before it's over, but I ain't hiding behind a knife. Let's do this, pussy boy, Dusty snarled and held his fists in front of him with his manhood challenged the valley pride within Johnny came to the forefront. He tossed the knife into the creek and charged Dusty. His intent was to bear tackle and then get the wounded boy on the ground. Instead, he got a straight right hand to the bridge of the nose. Johnny saw stars and dropped to his knees.

43:04 Dusty kicked him in the face, and Johnny rolled down into the shallow creek. Dusty was right behind him, still ignoring the pain from his gushing wound. Dusty grabbed Johnny by the back of his head before he could rise from the creek. With the full weight of his body on Johnny's back, he held Johnny's head under the water. Johnny bucked underneath, but Dusty's grip was firm and he had the full advantage of weight on his side. He was going to kill this valley vermin, and he would just have to explain what happened later. Everybody knew Jesse and Johnny were scum of the earth. There was a noise in the air that Dusty didn't register. His focus was making sure Johnny was dead before he lost consciousness from blood loss crack. Dusty fell with a splash Johnny jumped from the creek, holding his neck and gasping for air.

43:52 He was on the brink of filling his lungs with water, and that would have sent him on his way. Dusty lay still in the creek bed. The bullet went through his back and straight through the center of his heart. Charles Proser stood at the top of the hill, his dirty, hairy Style three fifty seven magnum now at his side. Johnny saw him and took off through the woods. Charles didn't want to kill Dusty, but there was one thing that neither Jesse nor Johnny knew. Their last name should be Proser. Their mother, Jessica, had a one night stand with Charles after a night of drinking at Glinda's, and Charles did the math. It was right at nine months later when the boys came. While Frank Elliott's name was on their birth certificates, Charles and Jessica both knew whose boys they really were. Charles could see his eyes and theirs, and it made his stomach turn every time he saw them.

44:46 He wasn't proud at all of the valley rats that they were turning into. He'd heard Johnny yell out to Dusty back at the minute shop. He knew they'd be here. He'd let them fight, but if things weren't going Johnny's way, he'd jump in and save his last surviving son. He would never tell Johnny why he saved him, and Johnny would avoid Charles Through the years. Johnny would be questioned about Dusty's death, but they wouldn't find a three fifty seven in Johnny's possession or dumped in the creek. Without that, they couldn't make anything stick. Valley rats keep things between valley rats, especially in the matters of life and death.

45:39 Fortune Falls by David O'Hanlon. Janine and Rose were on summer break from their third year at the University of Kansas. Being from a flat, landlocked wasteland, the Lady Jayhawks usually took their breaks on a beach in Galveston. Then something immensely terrifying it happened the previous year. They'd been on the beach for three days. Between surf lessons and volleyball games, all anyone could talk about was this new movie opening that weekend. They decided to take a chance and join some of their friends for the first evening showing of Jaws.

46:28 The next day, They all just sat on the sand the day after and every day after that until it was time to return to school for the summer of seventy six. They decided they'd try something different and far away from the threat of shark attacks. Kansas didn't have beaches, but it didn't have mountains either. Oregon was Jeanine's idea, and Rose had fallen in love with it. She studied the maps and picked the route for their journey of self discovery, five days of backpacking and camping from the isolated town of Sheldon to the Silver Creek Lodge, where they'd celebrate with a final day floating lazily down the Snake River. We should just camp here, Janine said, It's going to be dark soon, and we still kind of suck at setting up the tent. The signs say overnight camping is prohibited. Rose replied that couple said it was only eight miles to the next town. We'd be lucky to do that in three hours, Rosy. Besides, everyone we've talked to has said that we need to see this waterfall at sunrise. We already missed it this morning because you didn't want to get a ride from that trucker because hitchhiking is dangerous, She scoffed, and that guy was gross.

48:05 He looked like an evil Jerry Garcia scary Garcia, Janine said, with a giggle. Come on, Rosie, everyone's leaving the park anyway. No one will know we're here. Worst case, some ranger smith guy comes by and we make dough eyes at him until he just gives us a warning. Rose seemed to consider it. She looked over to the parking area, and Jeanine was correct. Almost everyone had already cleared out. The park. Rangers wouldn't lock the gate until sundown, but with less than an hour to go, there wasn't much to do except feed the mosquitoes. A family of six was packing everything into their station wagon, A couple of teens made out on a park bench. Local kiss kids played the last downs of their football game, and a red pickup truck sat unoccupied in the far corner of the lot. No one would be around to notice them, and it would be nice to see the waterfall at first light. That had been their original plan after hearing about it from a couple at a diner two days earlier.

49:25 The locals called it Fortune Falls because the water broke up and sparkled like a cascade of diamonds. At sunrise, Roses better safe than sorry approach had set them back hours. However, when they arrived at noon, the site was anything but impressive. The waterfall wasn't particularly large and only descended some fifty feet to the punch bowl below. After the big show at dawn, most people moved along to the larger recreational areas.

50:06 It did seem unlikely park services would spend much time locking down the tiny fortune fall sight. An engine turned over and Rose glanced around again. The station wagon was ready to go. The winning football team was high fiving while the losers collected their bikes from the lawn, and the makeout session was getting hot enough that it would soon need to move to a more private location. That red truck still sat there. However, an ominous feeling came over Rows, but she shrugged it off. She always had an ominous feeling. It seemed okay, we can stay, she conceded, but we'd better not get caught. Janine used the sawback of the survival knife to split a thick limb. She tossed one half into the fire and stuck the knife into the ground. Next to her. Janine's boyfriend, Howard was in the rotc back home. He'd insisted she'd take the knife along, joking that she could use the compass on the pommel to find her way back home. Janine watched the needle settle and look to the southeast. She knew

51:39 that somewhere beyond the expansive wilderness was Kansas. She'd never liked it there, over the last three days, she'd come to like it even less. It was boring in every possible way, right down to the men, she thought, as she pulled Howard's knife from the earth. Two more days and we'll be at the river, Rose said, folding her map. There's so much more stuff to see. We could come here every summer, and I don't think we'd ever find it all. I don't think I want to come here next summer, Janine whittled at the end of the stick. Jesus, Rosie, just look at it. How could anyone go back to Kansas once they've seen all this? Like? You want to transfer here? Why not? The university is a few hundred miles that way, She pointed with the knife, then checked the compass and corrected her aim. That way, there's an entire ocean nearby, an ocean that's too cold for sharks too.

52:56 Didn't Jaws take place in New England? Okay? So well, maybe they still have sharks. But there's a whole state of this. She gestured to the deep black wilderness around them. Have you met anyone boring in the last few days? I'm sure I have. Rose couldn't think of any When did you decide this? I haven't decided anything, Janine sheathed the knife and inspected the point she'd put on the limb. Everywhere we've been this week has been so alive. Kansas is just an after birth. It's like God ran out of ideas and just left the canvas blank when he made it. What about Howard, The boys are cuter, Rose laughed.

53:52 She didn't necessarily agree with her friend, but there was a ruggedness about the Oregon mountain men they'd encountered that was lacking in the Kansas stock. Howard is sweet, Janine continued, But all he can think about is the future. How can anyone give a rat's ass about the future when we have all this right now? Maybe you're right. We got an eight mile hike tomorrow to talk about it, Rose said, let's get some rest. We don't want to miss the sunrise showing. We can make sure we have the best view before the gates even open. It's going to be magical. Yeah, Janine tossed the wooden spike into the fire. There's a lot to see tomorrow. The tent lit up suddenly from the outside. The bright light shone through the nylon, turning the structure into an oversized lantern, and roused the girls from their slumber. Jeanine rubbed her eyes, trying to clear away confusion with the sleepiness. Rose groaned and rolled over in her sleeping bag. It cannot be morning already, she mumbled. It's not. Jeanine sat up sharply.

55:19 She could hear the gentle rumble of a truck engine outside. Shit, I think we're busted, Rosy Rose said something, but the words were lost in the sudden rumble of the motor. The light became more intense as the headlights rushed closer. The shower of earth and rocks thrown up by the truck tires rained noisily through the tree branches. Janine watched as the tense, thin skin glowed brighter and brighter until the side collapsed and rushed towards her, Wrapped around a half ton of Detroit steel, Janine couldn't comprehend what was happening, or that the thing that struck her was the truck's bumper.

56:13 Suddenly it was dark again. The ravaged tent lay draped over the women. Rose was silent. Janine felt a crushing weight on her right arm. She tried to move it, but the appendage wouldn't budge. She pulled harder. A lightning bolt shot threw her fingertips to her elbow. From the effort, Rosie, she cried out, A gentle sob answered her. The tent rustled wildly. I can't move, Rose, Janine said, what's happening?

56:56 Rose sniffled. She fought with the nylon, clawing and punching at the tent as it collapsed on top of her. Her voice grew panicked and shrill. I can't, I can't get this off me. Why is this happening? The truck pulled forward, releasing Janine's arm from beneath its tire. The ground moved beneath them. Rose screamed. The tent was caught on the truck. They were being dragged. The fabric tore but not enough to get free. Janine pulled her injured arm close to her body and rolled over, looking for a way out. The engine growled as the driver hit the gas. Rocks and branches tore through the bottom as the tent sped along behind the vehicle, deeper into the woods.

57:58 It finally came free. The truck's tires slid loudly to a stop. Rose found a tear and worked at it with both hands, forcing it open until she could get through Janine. She searched the ruins of the tent for her friend, finding a body shaped lump beneath Jeanine. Get me out of here, Rosie, I'm hurt bad, I will Oh my god, we're in big trouble. Rose stared at the truck, unable to look away. She could only discern the outline of the vehicle in the moonlight, but was convinced that it was the red pickup truck from earlier.

58:50 The truck reversed, turning around slowly. The back bumper crunched against a tree. The noise snapped Rose out of her paralysis. She wrestled the tent off of Jeanine and gasped her friend's face was a mask. Of blood. Her forehead was split open in a large gash, showing bone beneath. Rose moved the flap of flesh back over the exposed skull. The headlights shined fully upon them as the truck finished writing itself. Rose leaned close to Jeanine. Stay really still, she whispered, don't make a sound. The engine revved. The driver did it two more times, letting the women know he could run them down with ease. Then the door swung open. A man stepped out of the view, but leaned back inside to get something. He stepped in front of the lights, casting a long shadow over the women.

1:00:13 Rose couldn't see any of the man's features except the distinctive shape of a cowboy hat atop his head, and then the even more distinctive shape of the axe held at his side. Why are you doing this, she asked shakily. She clenched her teeth and drew a deep breath. She blew it out and asked again, with more force, why are you doing this? What do you want? The cowboy moved towards her without a word. He swung the axe onto his shoulder. His walk was cocky and nonchalant. He looked like he was out for a casual stroll. Janine groaned and Rose shushed her quietly, praying the cowboy didn't hear.

1:01:15 If he did, he didn't let on. He just kept walking closer. Please stop this, Rose shouted. She pushed her hands out in front of her. Just leave us alone. The cowboy swung the axe one handed. The blade whooshed by harmlessly, and he placed it on the opposite shoulder, spitting tobacco juice playfully at Rose. He took a backhand swing. Rose felt the hit, but didn't realize the gravity of it until the three stumps on her right hand spurted.

1:02:02 Before she could respond, the cowboy took a two handed chop. It struck with the sound of a gunshot, and flung her into the dirt. Rose wheezed air sputtered wetly out of her collapsing lung. She rolled over, hugged her chest, broken ribs gouged into her palm. Janine shifted carefully in the tent. Her legs were still inside the sleeping bag. She moved slowly to wipe her eyes with shredded tent fabric, being careful not to draw attention to herself. Everything was blurry, but simultaneously all too clear. She could see the cowboy and the axe, and her best friend laying on the ground.

1:03:02 She closed her eyes again, but it didn't protect her from what came next. She listened to the crack of the axe striking Rose again. Why. Rose asked why. The cowboy answered her with another chop. Rose kept repeating the word, and their attacker continued to respond the same way. Sharp cracks became softer, wetter. Rose's voice got weaker, and then went silent entirely. Two more chops followed. Janine dared to look once more. The cowboy was kneeling over Rose. He sat on her hips and lean on his axe. Janine carefully crawled free. The blood pouring down her face slipped past her lips. She knew she'd be tasting a lot more of it. If the cowboy spotted her, he probably thought she was dead already. She could have laid there until he left, But maybe he wouldn't have. Maybe he would have used the axe to make sure she couldn't

1:04:34 take the risk. She knew begging wouldn't work. It hadn't for Rose. Once her legs were free, she brought herself into a crouch and glanced over her shoulder. The cowboy was standing but still seemed focused on Rose. Janine wiped her eyes again. She needed a few seconds of clear vision. She pushed off in a dead sprint for the running truck. She heard a frustrated curse from the cowboy. Jeanine stumbled, bouncing off the bumper. She pulled herself up and whipped inside the cab. Her injured hand struggled with the shifter, forcing her to use her left. The cowboy ran at her in the headlights. Janine stomped the gas pedal down.

1:05:35 The tires spun and threw up dirt. They gained traction as the cowboy grabbed the open door. The truck jolted forward. The cowboy stumbled, tossing himself over the side of the truck bed. Janine swerved around a tree. The rear window shattered, and the cowboy boots struck her in the back of the head. The truck veered hard, throwing her out of the open door. It plowed into a stump. The cowboy flew over the vehicle and disappeared into the darkness. Jeanine climbed woozily to her feet. She ran the trees blocked the pitiful moonlight. Branches tore at her skin to trytas stabbed into her feet. She bounced off the trees and kept on running. She was terrified. She was blind, she was hurt, she was heartbroken. She was flying. Jeanine laid against the rocks. The water gently sloshed over her face and down her throat, choking her back into the world

1:07:05 of the living. The waterfall poured down across the pool from her. She'd blindly ran straight over the edge in her desperate escape. It was still dark out, but there was nothing blocking the moon at the waterfall, and she could inspect the damage to her arm for the first time. It was swollen, with the skin deeply miscolored. She could move her fingers, but the pain made her wish she couldn't. She knew it was definitely broken. She risked touching her forehead. It wasn't bleeding as badly as she feared, but she chalked that up to being almost out of blood. She knew Rose was dead. She'd laid there and listened to her best friend die. No, you didn't, she reminded herself.

1:08:04 You don't know she's dead. Janine looked around for any sign of the cowboy. Not finding any, she worked her way onto the rocks and began her hike back to the campsite. She checked her watch. It was a dainty, pretty thing that she'd picked out for esthetics and not its ability to survive a fifty foot fall into a pond. She put it close to her ear. It wasn't ticking. The time was stuck at three am, but she had no idea when it had stopped. What she did know was that meant there was less than three hours until the park opened. She needed to get back to the campsite and check on Rose. Then she could wait for the rangers to come and open the park. The cowboy had to be gone. He couldn't know where Jeanine had run to. And that red truck, she remembered it was still there when we left to set up the tent.

1:09:20 He would have to leave his truck to escape. He has to make sure I'm dead He's still here. More scarce to come weekly, Spooky, We'll be right back. She pulled herself from the punch bowl and started up the steep incline back to the campsite. Janine was sure the cowboy was looking for her. She wasn't going to make it easy for him. She had to survive. If she didn't, then there was nothing stopping that bastard from doing it again and again. Rose might not have even been his first, and she certainly wouldn't be his last. If Janine didn't get to the police, there'd be dead Roses all over Oregon.

1:10:21 The hike back to the campsite came as close to killing Janine as the cowboy had. Her arm throbbed as she collapsed to her friend's side. Rose's face was gone, her arms ravaged where she tried to defend herself. There were no errant swings. The cowboy had practiced this. He'd killed before. Janine was sure of that. Rose hadn't wanted to camp there. If Janine had listened, none of it would be happy. I'm sorry, Rosie, she whimpered. This is all my fault, and I'm so sorry. Janine scoured at her tears, aggravating the head wound in the process. She looked around quickly. The truck was gone. There were no headlights shining anywhere in the woods, no flashlight searching for her trail. Janine tried to convince herself. The cowboy was gone, but she didn't buy it. Maybe he's waiting for the Rangers himself. She thought he could say he got stuck inside and they just let him go. He'll be in Canada by the time they find Rosie. That can't happen.

1:11:56 It won't happen. I promise Rosie, it won't fucking happen. Janine rummaged through the wrecked tent until she found Howard's survival knife. She cut a strip of nylon and tied it around her head, pulling it tight to hold the flap of skin in place. A bent up aluminum tent post made a quick splint for her arm. Once the wounds were taken care of, it was time for other concerns. She'd helped her father cut firewood back home. Swinging an axe was exhausting and slow. She thrusted the knife into the air a few times. That wasn't slow at all.

1:12:49 She found her belt and attached the knife to it, but could only manage to scrounge up a mixed pair of their hiking boots. Rose's pack was mangled, but the metal flashlight on the side had survived. Janine inspected rogue stitches on the face of the pack. The Jayhawk patch rose carefully centered on it was missing. The idea of the cowboy taking a trophy turned her stomach. She envisioned him mounting the patch over his mantle with souvenirs from other kills, like the antlers her father had mounted back home.

1:13:35 Janine took the light and started towards the parking lot. The red pickup was sitting in the corner spot, exactly where it had been before. Janine dropped behind a bush and watched for movement. There was still no sign of the occupant or any other axe swinging psychos. Jeanine stayed low, crawling along the perimeter of the lot. With still no cowboy present, Jeanine made her move on the truck. She broke into a crouching run and rolled to the side of the vehicle. It hurt more than the TV shows led her to believe. Her heart skipped. A sudden dread washed over her. There was something wrong, or, more correctly, nothing was wrong. She peeked around the front of the truck to inspect the bumper. It was rusty and dinged up, but she'd seen the truck rack into a tree. The crash she'd heard must have done more than a few dents.

1:14:53 She moved down the side and checked the back glass. It was intact. It wasn't the cowboy's truck, So where the hell is he? She looked around frantically. There were no other trucks, no other anything. She was completely alone. As far as she could tell. She'd seen the tire tracks all the way from their campsite back to the parking lot. Rose's killer had definitely driven out the same way he'd come in. She clicked on the flashlight and set out for clues. She shined high first, hoping to catch a glint off the truck, or to spotlight the sun of a bitch himself. When that didn't work, she moved the light down to search for tracks. A metal door clanged behind her. Jeanine spun, waving the flashlight around for the soorce she froze. The light hung on the blocky concrete building that housed the bathrooms. Each had a steel outer door that could be padlocked during the off season.

1:16:16 Jeanine snuck to the restrooms and waited. She didn't hear anyone inside, but knew the door was too heavy to have blown in the barely present breeze. She sat the flashlight down on the archaic water fountain. Jeanine drew the knife. It was uncomfortable in her left hand, but it was going to be a lot more uncomfortable in the cowboy's belly. She pulled the outer door and pushed the other inward with her foot. No one chopped it off. Jeanine sprang inside, keeping the knife close to her body. Chunky, disheveled man threw his hands into the air, hiking his keep on truckin shirt over his belly. His eyes flicked to the knife.

1:17:12 Fuck shit, he shook his head violently. Be cool, Be cool, you motherfucker. Janine hissed, where is it? Where's the truck right outside? The man pointed shakily, Not that truck. That's the only one I got. The man shrugged. I know the sign says no camping, but stabbing is a bit fucking extreme. Lady, aren't you supposed to write me a ticket or something camping? Who are you phil? Why did you try to kill me? Kill you, lady, I went to jail for being a conscientious objector. I don't even and killed bugs. The park is closed, Janine snapped, why are you here? Fleetwood Mac is playing in Boise this weekend.

1:18:12 He let his hands fall, slapping against his thighs. I stopped here to score some weed from a buddy. Had got super baked and fell asleep by the falls. By the time I got back, the gate was locked. Janine hadn't gotten a good look at the cowboy, but she was sure he had been slimmer and taller and didn't reek of marijuana. She leaned against the wall and started to cry. If Phil wasn't the cowboy, then she'd failed and the axe murderer had escaped. Phil took tentative steps towards her, patting the air as he went. Please don't stab me, he said softly. You look really banged up.

1:19:06 Let's go to my truck and get you some help. It's a dodge, it'll crash right through that gate. What time you got, Janine asked, sheathing the knife. Phil checked his watch quarter past five, About an hour until anyone comes to rescue you. Guess that makes you my shining night. You uh drew the short straw, then he chuckled. Janine let Phil help her off the wall when a bright light assaulted her eyes. What are you two doing here.

1:19:47 A strong masculine voice demanded, the park is closed. The man moved the light back and forth between their faces, keeping them both blinking and blocking their eyes with their hands. Whoa dude, chill with the light? Phil whined, This lady needs help. She was attacked, I know, the man said. The flashlight clattered to the floor. Janine's vision was blurred, but she could make out the curves of the cowboy hat. The axe split Phil's face and stopped in the back of his throat. Phil stumbled backwards, bounced off a stall, and came forward. Woo oie, the cowboy exclaimed, we got ourselves a dancer. He grabbed Janine by the hair and pulled her close to him. You see that, he asked, means he's dead, but his body don't know it. I love when that happens. I wonder if you'll be a dancer. Think, dollface, you want to dance with me. Janine pulled the knife and brought it down into the cowboy's thigh. He howled and let the axe fall. Janine twisted the blade and jerked back, but the knife didn't budge. She could see

1:21:20 the strands of meat caught in the sawback. Since it wouldn't come out, she went back in. She worked the saw through his thigh until the cowboy whipped her away. Her face smashed into the wall, breaking teeth against the cinder blocks. Janine slumped down. The axe sparked off the wall. Janine rolled away. Her boots slipped in Phil's brains, and she toppled against the sink. The axe shattered the porcelain. It continued downward, hacking into Janie's foot. She fell on top of Phil. The cowboy straightened his hat and limped to her. He took the axe handle with both hands and rested the blade on Janine's forehead. He took each hand off in turn, rolling the wrists in preparation for the killing blow. Why are you doing this, Janine asked, Someday one of you will ask an original question. He said, it's always why well, Dolphace, why not how about that one?

1:22:40 He raised the axe high to show his might. The asbestos tile overhead shattered, reining down dust around the cowboy. The distraction was just enough for Janine to move her head. The axe buried into Phil's body. The cowboy wrestled to free it from Phil's oversized belly. Janine kicked the protruding knife with her good leg. Her attacker fell, smacking his head on the wall. Tobacco juice rolled from his lips across his fancy Western shirt. Well, I'll be damned, doll face.

1:23:22 He stretched for his hat and used the trash can to pull himself up. I reckon, that's a pretty fine answer to my question. He put his hat back on and unsnapped his shirt pocket. He held up something for Janine to see. He squeezed it into a ball and tossed it to her. I think I've had enough sport for tonight. Sooner rather than later, I'm going to see you dance, he promised. Then he was gone. Nine lifted the crumbled Jayhawk patch. She crawled frantically for the exit.

1:24:06 A truck engine rumbled to life outside. Janine used the door handle to come to her knees and forced her way outside. Her face hit the ground. She pushed herself out into the lawn in time to see the dark blue Ford pulling from behind the outbuilding. Jeanine was helpless to stop him as he plowed through the gate. She rolled onto her back and held the patch to her chest. She watched moths bounce off the dim yellow light overhead. The sound of the truck faded out, and she laid there alone. Janine wondered if the cowboy was a man of his word, and somehow knew that he was. If she lived, he would find her, and if she lived, she'd make damn sure she was ready for him. Roadkill by Travis Van House. Lucas Riggs was on top of the world. For years, he had struggled to make it as a professional photographer, a career he believed he was destined for. Yet he had never made a sale like

1:25:40 the one he had just closed. He attributed his sudden success to the unorthodox and disturbing subject matter of his latest series of photographs. Multiple buyers had placed competitive bids on the series, resulting in a crisp check for one one hundred thousand dollars folded neatly in his back pocket. It's been a long time coming, Lucas thought. He always knew he was talented and could hardly believe it had taken until age thirty three to get his first big break. He had flown home to Ohio with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. He was eager to spread the word of his good fortune. His few friends would refer to him as arrogant. They believed he expected the world to hand him everything on a silver platter, and his obsession with status defined him. They all knew he was living life on his parents' dime. Those in the art world despised him. Lucas had a habit of dismissing their work as amateurish and lacking inspiration, even though he had not sold a single piece since college. He was a hypocrite with many enemies. Lucas Riggs. His arrogance extended

1:27:11 far beyond his photography, seeping into every aspect of his life, especially his interactions with women. Lucas believed he was God's gift to women and would seethe with rage whenever he was rejected. When he looked in the mirror, he saw a masterpiece and couldn't understand why any woman would ever consider turning him down. He believed they should feel honored to be in his presence. When a woman rejected him, he always found a way to get his revenge. He wasn't violent by nature, but he acted out when he felt slighted. Once he had been snubbed by a girl at a bar. When he saw her kissing another guy.

1:28:03 Recognizing the car she drove to the bar, he slashed all four tires with the switchblade he always carried. Physically, Lucas was undeniably attractive. He worked out and took care of his body. He had well defined muscles and a strong jawline. His arms were covered with expensive tattoos. His smile revealed full lips, perfect teeth, and deep dimples. His eyebrows and lashes were dark and striking, framing his hazel eyes. His hair, short on the sides and tussled on top, seemed casually perfect, though he spent at least half an hour each morning creating the just rolled out of bed look.

1:28:58 Rolling down the window of his red BMW, Lucas lit a cigarette and cranked up the stereo. An old rock tune blasted through the speakers as he drummed his fingers in time with the music on the steering wheel. The cocaine he had snorted in the airport parking lot was still coursing through his veins, and his buzz was keeping him sharp and jittery. He couldn't wait to get home to keep the party going. The night stretched on as he drove down an old road known as Route seven forty seven that led to Rigg's manor, where he lived with his wealthy parents. He had the guesthouse to himself and rarely engaged with his mother and father. In his mind, their only purpose was to fund the extravagant lifestyle he had been accustomed to since birth. He never said it out loud, but he couldn't wait until they died so he could inherit their fortune, something he felt he was entitled to. Lucas's father was a day trader and his mother was a famous lifestyle blogger. Together they brought in nearly thirty million dollars a year. Lucas couldn't understand why they lived in Ohio. He continuously encouraged them to relocate

1:30:31 to the West Coast, but they refused, explaining that they loved the tranquility of their small Ohio town, hobbs End, believing it kept them grounded. They feared moving to a big city would change them and challenge their humility. Mister and Missus Riggs knew they were solely responsible for Lucas's behavior. They spoiled him as a true and often discussed cutting him off to find his own way in the world, but neither of them could bear the guilt of actually doing it. Towering stalks of corn flanked the road the BMW was speeding down. Lucas's sharp eyes scanned the road ahead.

1:31:21 The cocaine heightened his senses, and his wide eyes were overly alert. Deer were notorious for darting out from the sides of the road this time of year, and he had no intention of damaging his pristine BMW by hitting one. Just a month earlier, he hit a deer on this road, but unlike the others who might swerve to avoid the deer, Lucas deliberately hid it for his art. An art professor once told Lucas that there is beauty in everything, even death.

1:32:09 He was referring to the vibrant hues of the leaves changing color in the fall, but Lucas took this to the extreme. His mind fixated on Route seven forty seven, the desolate stretch of road to his home. It was the kind of road where you could speed for miles before passing another car. For this reason, it was also littered with roadkill. All types of wildlife lived in the woods and fed in the cornfields surrounding the road. Almost everyone who lived along Route seven forty seven had at some point hit a helpless critter on this stretch of asphalt.

1:32:59 Once a week, a city cleanup crew arrived to collect and dispose of the dead carcasses. Lucas often wondered what type of man could do such a job. In his eyes, public waste workers were beneath him. What a sad fucking existence, he would think with a sneer when he saw them working. On more than one occasion, he'd even tossed an empty bottle from his window at them, his lips curling in satisfaction. Beauty in everything, even death, the Professor's words echoed in Lucas's mind the day he pulled his car to the side of Route seven forty seven, where he spotted what looked like a dead raccoon in the middle of the road.

1:33:54 Grabbing his camera, he slung the strap over his neck and stepped on to the hot asphalt. He could smell the decay as the animal rotted in the beating sun, but the odor didn't bother Lucas. To him, the scent represented art. When he arrived within touching distance of the dead and bloated animal. His brilliant white teeth appeared behind a smile that would have been disturbing if anyone else had witnessed it. Large black flies buzzed around the rotting corpse, and maggots were already feasting on the critter. A black beetle crawled from a hole where one of the raccoon's eyes used to be. Raising the camera, Lucas began shooting the raccoon. The camera clicked and the film inside rolled.

1:34:55 As Lucas collected photograph after photograph, he knelt to adjust his angle, then lay flat on the hot asphalt to snap an even lower perspective of the poor animal. As he stood up, he noticed large black winged vultures circling above. Their slow, ominous movements told him they would descend to feast the moment he left, he made a mental note to return in a few hours to capture the gruesome act of the circle of life. Throughout that afternoon, Lucas captured what he considered beautiful photographs of raccoons, squirrels, a possum, and even a dog. He had found his inspiration in death and believed each photograph was a work of art, but he craved something more, something significant, smashed and strewn across the road, something big and fresh. Lucas spent the rest of the day developing film in his photo lab tucked in the back of the guesthouse of Riggs Manor.

1:36:21 His parents had paid for every piece of expensive equipment. As he watched the pictures slowly develop, he was consumed with excitement. He had never seen something so beautiful as the entrails of roadkills spilled on Route seven forty seven. He was amazed at how the white maggots shined in the bloody folds of the dark fur. This calls for a celebration, Lucas said aloud, patting himself on the back as he admired his work. Port himself tall glasses of whiskey and coke, and he was thoroughly drunk by nightfall.

1:37:07 That is when inspiration struck a brilliant, twisted idea to complete his collection of photographs. He'd take the gardener's truck, head down Route seven forty seven and scatter apples from the family orchard along the deserted road. He'd bust them open, hoping the scent would lure a deer. Maybe even an entire family onto the road. When the moment was right, he would floor the truck, propelling it forward, metal meeting flesh and bone. He'd then take his camera and create another photographic masterpiece, the perfect work of art, to complete his collection. Returning from his art exhibit in California, Lucas hadn't seen a single piece of roadkill on Route seven forty seven. He was still thirty miles from home and eager to tell his parents about his good fortune, letting them know he would relocate to California. He couldn't wait to hold up his check and prove to his parents he had finally made it. He'd have called ahead, but

1:38:40 had left his cell phone in the hotel room in California. It was being shipped back to Rigg's manor the next day. Up ahead, something caught his eye. This time it wasn't roadkill. It was a woman. A stunning woman stood on the edge of the road with a brown suitcase in one hand and her skirt hiked up with the other. Her leg gleamed in the moonlight and the headlights of his car. Even from a distance, he could see the woman's smile, her long blonde hair, blew gently in the evening breeze.

1:39:23 Lucas eased his foot off the gas pedal, pulling the car to the side of the road. He assumed the woman needed a ride, and Lucas was more than willing to offer one, perhaps even more if the opportunity presented itself. As the car rolled to a stop, the woman swiftly moved toward the vehicle, her suitcase gone. Lucas barely blinked his eyes before both the front and back passenger doors swung open. The vixen slid gracefully into the front seat, while a strangely dark, rough looking man slid into the back.

1:40:10 What the fuck, Lucas froze as both the doors slammed shut. I thought she was alone. He became instantly nervous, jumping slightly when the cigarette he had been smoking had burned down to his finger tips, searing his skin. He flicked the butt out the window without taking his eyes off his passengers. His eyes darted to the rear view mirror. He had seen enough movies to know he might be in a terrible predicament. Thanks for picking us up, the blue eyed vixen said, with a comforting smile. I'm Doris, and that's my boyfriend, Derek. She nodded toward the back seat.

1:41:00 No problem. Lucas's tone was sharp and steady, although he was nervous. His hand trembled as he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn't like the idea of a strange guy sitting behind him. Too many horror stories about people picking up hitchhikers and being robbed or murdered started this way. Don't worry, we're not psychopaths. Doris laughed lightly, as if she could read his mind. We were riding with another guy, but he kept getting handsy, so we had him drop us off. He's not the type of guy Derek and I would invite into our bedroom, she remarked playfully. Lucas's shoulders relaxed slightly. He wasn't against the idea of joining Doris and her boyfriend in the bedroom, as he couldn't take make his eyes off her. Yeah, you have to be careful who you ride with or pick up these days, Lucas said, glancing at Derek in the rear view mirror. He was tall and lanky, and Lucas knew he could take him in a fight, as long as the guy didn't have a weapon. He also had long brown hair, which Lucas considered to be sissy hair.

1:42:25 He didn't believe real men should grow their hair long unless they were bikers. Where are you headed, Doris asked, home, I live about thirty miles down the road. Lucas glanced at the glove compartment, wishing his switchblade was in his pocket instead of locked away. Perfect. We can find our way to town from there. We're just trying to meet up with some friends. They were supposed to pick us up from the bus station, but their car broke down, Doris said, with a smile. Sorry to hear that. Lucas put the car and drive, pulled back onto the road and speeded down Route seven forty seven. Once again, he kept his eye on Derek through the rear view mirror to ensure he wasn't up to something sinister, but he sat quietly, holding the brown suitcase on his lap. There was a big white sticker on the side that declared pork sucks. The rock music on the stereo played softly, almost blending into the engine's hum. I don't even remember turning it down, Lucas thought, don't you get scared driving on these old roads alone at night, Doris asked, scared, Should I have something to be scared about? Lucas knew

1:43:59 the cocaine buzzing through his system was most likely making him paranoid. He shook off the creeping anxiety, but remained on guard. Not really, I like the seclusion. It's beautiful out here, Lucas replied, focusing on Doris. He prayed that she didn't hear the tremor in his voice. This time. He couldn't hide it. Something was off about the couple, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He regretted picking them up, but couldn't think of a way to politely get them out of his car, so he stepped harder on the gas pedal, speeding up to get to his house as soon as possible. I just think it's creepy out here, Doris said, her voice soft. She crossed her legs in a deliberate motion, and Lucas couldn't help but notice we heard strange sounds when we were standing alongside the road. I started to imagine spirits lurking in the woods or cornfields, she laughed, nervously. I've never seen a ghost out here, Lucas scoffed. He didn't believe in such foolishness. I drive this road almost daily, and the grisliest thing I've seen has been roadkill. No ghosts, Lucas replied, calmly. Really,

1:45:33 Doris asked what the hell does she mean by really? A sound came from the back seat. It was slow, heavy breathing. If that dude is masturbating behind that suitcase, I will be pissed. Lucas couldn't bring himself to look in the rear view mirror. He was focused on Doris, who shifted her skirt h Lucas was sure she was intentionally giving him a show. Yeah, I hit a deer out here a few weeks back, tore the shit out of the front hood of the truck I was driving, Lucas said, his voice thick. He felt himself growing hard.

1:46:21 He didn't know if it was because of Doris or from remembering how beautiful the dead deer had been when he smeared it across the road. He could still remember that night as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. After scattering apples along the pavement, Lucas pulled the gardener's beat up green truck to the side of Route seven forty seven and waited with the headlights on. He knew most deer were reckless when it came to light. People said they ran straight toward the light, as if they were drawn to them, like moths to a flame. Lucas didn't have to wait long. From the edge of the cornfield, a large deer had emerged, cautious but curious, its legs moving hesitantly across the grass before stepping on to the pavement.

1:47:23 It placed its nose against the concrete, sniffing the broken apples on the asphalt. Tapping the apples with its nose, it lifted its beautiful head to stare directly at Lucas and the truck. Then hunger went over fear, and it dipped its head again, nibbling at the apples. Tightening his seatbelt, Lucas eased the truck to the center of the road. The deer didn't seem to notice or care. He pressed the gas slowly at first, then harder. The deer looked up with only a few seconds left to escape, but was frozen in the headlights. Lucas hit the accelerator, colliding with the deer. He heard the sickening thud, followed by the scrape of the body hitting the bumper as it flew up and over the hood before landing on the pavement.

1:48:31 Fuck yeah, Lucas screamed, spittle flying from his lips. He slammed on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt. He placed the truck in park, opened the door, and ran to the deer. It was twitching and making horrible sounds. It was still alive, struggling to get up, but Lucas could see one of the legs was broken and bleeding, nearly torn from the hip. Blood was pulling around its mangled body. But that wasn't enough for Lucas. He wanted more slick blood, torn flesh, and twisted organs. Lucas was panting as he jumped back into the truck, put it in drive, and floored it. He felt the dull crunch as the tires rolled over the deer. The brake squealed as he put the truck into reverse, backing over the deer.

1:49:34 This time, the tires crushed its skull and tore its flesh from its bones. Its guts smeared across the road. Lucas killed the engine, grabbed his camera, and ran to the deer. It was still twitching, barely alive. His hands trembled with excitement as he began snapping photos, each one more beautiful than the first. It was the most incredible work of art he had ever created. Amid the frenzy of his work, he didn't hear the faint cries from the cornfield, a noise that was both animalistic and disturbingly human.

1:50:29 Was the deer okay? Doris lowered her eyes, then stared out the windshield. Her voice was slow and quiet, almost haunting. Lucas shook away the vivid memory of killing the deer, wondering why the hell. She asked if the deer was okay. He thought it was just a pointless animal with no soul or purpose, even if its meat tasted foul. Don't know, Lucas lied with a casual shrug. I got out and it was still moving a little, But I didn't know what to do, so I just drove on, leaving it on the roadside. He didn't want to share the secret of his creative process that was just for him to savor.

1:51:25 You hit a poor, defenseless animal and left it to die on the roadside. Doris's voice wavered with shock. Lucas turned to look at her. Her eyes, which had been a beautiful shade of blue, now appeared almost entirely black, as if her pupils had dilated, erasing all color. It had to be the faint glow from the stereo display playing tricks on him. Lucas glanced into the rear view mirror and was pleased to see the guy in the back seat staring blankly out the window, uninterested in their conversation.

1:52:09 He reached for his cigarette in the center console, grabbed one and placed it between his lips. Do you mind, he asked. Doris shook her head slowly. Lucas lit the cigarette, taking a long drag to calm his nerves. It was just an animal, he muttered. Wanting to change the subject, he tried to switch the conversation to see if the couple was interested in going to his guesthouse to party for a bit and let Doris show off more of her legs. His mind flicked to the fat check in his pocket. He was no longer afraid of the situation.

1:52:55 He wanted to celebrate his big win. Anna animal, What the hell do you mean by that? That deer was a living and breathing organism. It had a family and friends, It even had kids. Doris screamed in rage. Lucas almost laughed at the absurdity. He assumed she was an animal activist or a dirty hippie. He hated hippies. He nervously took another drag of his cigarette, noticing the sincerity in the girl's eyes. At the same time, he once again heard the man in the back seat breathing heavily. It was a deer, just an animal. No harm was done, Lucas said flatly. He glanced in the rear view mirror as fear crawled up the back of his neck. He froze, his cigarette hanging from his lips. As the heavy breathing from the back seat turned into a low, guttural growl.

1:54:02 Lucas's heart pounded in his chest as sweat pooled under his armpits. It wasn't just a deer, it was my father, Doris screamed, her voice trembling with fury. What the fuck, Lucas hissed. I think it's time I drop you too off. Lucas wanted to say more, but the words died in his throat. Lucas's foot eased off the gas as his trembling hand reached for the gearshift. Cigarette smoke burned his eyes as Doris's face began to change, Her soft porcelain skin faded, replaced with coarse, bristly brown fur. Shocked. His cigarette fell from his lips, landing between his legs. He slammed the brakes as her long blonde hair morphed into a thick brown pelt sprouting from her scalp. Lucas didn't want to believe his eyes as he stared back at Doris's unblinking, black as tar eyes. Doris, the woman was no longer sitting next to him, replaced by something else.

1:55:21 The growling from the back seat increased. Lucas dared to look into the rear view mirror, just in time to see the man Doris called Derek, now with the face and hoofs of a deer, his mouth stretched unnaturally wide. Deer don't have teeth like that, Lucas's mind screamed. The teeth were elongated into jagged, razor sharp points. Derek lurched forward, the suitcase tumbling aside. Lucas let out a strangled scream as Derek's teeth sank into his cheek. Blood rolled down his neck as the flesh was torn from the bone.

1:56:10 His foot slipped from the brake pedal as the car inched forward into the ditch next to the cornfield. This can't be fucking happening. Lucas's mind twisted, but he couldn't deny what was occurring. The two strange hitchhikers had transformed before his eyes into deer with razor sharp teeth. We are more than roadkill. We are alive. We are man and beast. Doris's distorted voice roared as she bit into his side. Lucas cried out in pain, blood dripping from his torn flesh. Derek spoke for the first time, She walked.

1:57:00 You hit him and run him over again and again. Had I been there, you would have been dead that night. We've been watching you and waiting for this moment. Their dear and people. This was the last coherent thought Lucas had as Doris and Derek tore him apart with teeth and claws. They ripped open his stomach, spilling his guts, just like he had done to Doris's father. When the grizzly task was done, Doris and Derek began to shift back to their human forms. Their clothes were tattered and torn as they sat naked, covered in blood. Doris leaned over, kissing Derek gently. Thank you, baby, she whispered through tears.

1:58:02 Derek nodded, pulling the suitcase from the back seat. He ripped Lucas's still warm heart from his chest and placed it inside the suitcase to bring to the others. As proof of their revenge. They scattered Lucas's remains, draping his entrails across the road, recreating the exact scene he had left behind the night he killed Doris's father. As the wind swept across Root seven forty seven, Lucas's shredded one hundred thousand dollars check fluttered free. Later that night, Lucas's mangled corpse would be discovered the most gruesome road kill ever found en Route seven forty seven in Hobbs End, Ohio.

1:59:07 All right, my spooky is there? It is four stories for the IDEs of March, where the universe keeps receipts, accepts no returns, and somehow always knows your forwarding address. Because revenge doesn't always kick in the door wearing a hockey mask. Sometimes it shows up polite, patient, smiling. Sometimes it's a small town that feels like a warm blanket until you realize it's actually a net. Sometimes it's the woods, quiet, beautiful and absolutely not interested in your survival plan. And sometimes it's the road where your headlights only show you what's immediately about to ruin your evening. So if you're heading to bed, lock the door and don't overthink the noises downstairs. If you're driving, keep your eyes forward, and if you see something on the side of the road that makes your stomach drop, ask yourself, do I need to be a hero or do I need to get home alive with a funny story. Next Saturday, we'll have another collection of the IDEs of March for you to enjoy, so make sure you're subscribed. And of course every Wednesday is a brand new terror tale never before heard anywhere else at Weekly Spooky. Until next time, don't forget the

2:00:41 scariest part isn't the knife, it's the moment you realize you are the punchline