Jessica H. - 6/25/2008 8:09 PM ET
holy shit love it gotta read more!
|Trudging through the overgrowth along the railroad tracks was never any fun, especially at night, Craig thought. It was always a little on the creepy side. More so tonight because he got stoned prior to work. Working on a train at 3 a.m. is no fun.
Craig Burrows, a 36-year-old, who recently lost his job as a copywriter, works as a subcontractor for the railroad until he can get another writing gig. He is on call twenty-four hours a day seven days a week. He hates the schedule but right now it pays the bills. He really hates being called out to inspect trains late at night on Fridays, but as he always says, “ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”
He normally isn’t high on the job but he was out partying with friends when the call came in.
“Hey Brandon, let’s just do a quick hook up and test and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Craig suggests to his 20-year-old partner as he gets out of the work truck. “This yard gives me the creeps."
“Fine by me.”
Brandon was an all right kid. The only thing that bothers Craig is the kid’s stories. There is no way he’s done all the shit he claims to have done.
Trudging alongside the train and looking at the brake shoes and spring wasn’t much of a challenge; doing the same thing at three in the morning after drinking and smoking weed is a different story. Factor into the mix having to connect the brake line air hoses for 125 cars and it is difficult.
Even though the tracks were wedged between the expressway, about 100 yards to the west, and a cornfield. It was always eerily quiet at night. The only sounds were the crunching of your footsteps through the grass and the occasional semi noise. The feeling of being watched was always present.
“What the hell?”
Craig jumped about a foot in the air after a small rabbit bounded by. His heart was now beating well over the normal rate. What a buzz kill.
“I hate this fucking job,” Craig grumbled. He wondered if Brandon was having problems at the other end of the train too.
Continuing on, Craig was on high alert. He began to hear a sound that seemed to be coming from the cornfield. It almost sounded like a wild boar digging for roots. As he neared the middle of the train, the sound of slurping, chewing and crunching was getting louder. He realized it was on the other side of the train, and close. He thought he smelled perfume.
“Man I hate this job!” he said to no one.
He didn’t want to check out the noise but his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. The rabbit had scared his buzz away about ten minutes ago. Besides, it would be cool to watch an animal feed in the wild.
Using his small LED light, Craig first peered under the cars. No luck, nothing there. Time to jump onto the knuckle and give a look around, he thought.
Sweeping the light back and forth, he didn’t see anything right away. But he did notice the sound stopped. Maybe he spooked the critter and it ran off; part of him hoped that would be the case. Then he saw it. On the edge of the gravel service road near the small bridge was something that looked out of place from here. It was small and white. All the rabbits in this area were brown. Unless it was a small cat. Stepping down, Craig decided to give it a quick check then go back to his job. Seeing a dead animal has never bothered him.
As he got closer he saw that object wasn’t an animal but rather a shoe; a white high-heeled shoe with red polka dots on it. Wondering how this was never noticed when the pair first drove by, Craig bent to retrieve the shoe. He then noticed that those weren’t polka dots but something dripped on, like blood.
Craig began to get frantic. He immediately started to search the area for an injured woman, who may have stumbled into the area.
“Anyone out there!” yells at the top of his lungs.
“Craig, what is going on down there, I can hear you all the way back here,” Brandon said over the radio.
“Brandon, we have a situation here,” Craig replied. “Can anyone hear me out there!”
“What’s up?” asked Brandon.
“I found a bloody shoe,” Craig said.
“Next to the road, near the bridge,” Craig said.
Then he heard it. Softly at first but steady. It sounded like someone was moaning.
“Who’s there?” Craig asked into the night as he scanned with his light.
Again he heard the faint moans. He started toward the sound. It was coming from deep in the overgrowth. The noise of him crunching over the downed branches and dead leaves made him lose the moaning sounds so he stopped to regain his bearing.
All of a sudden something large bounded past his vision ahead. Craig never imagined he’d be able to run as fast as he was right then. He fought his way back through the underbrush and onto the access road just as Brandon arrived.
“What the hell are you doing down here?” Brandon asked, just a little annoyed. “I would like to get this done and get the hell out of here. This place spooks me at night.”
“There is something in there,” Craig said, pointing to the overgrowth with a shaky finger.
Craig scanned the brush. He didn’t see anything. He was starting to think Craig was drunk and hallucinating, until he heard the moan.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked Craig.
“That is what I was trying to tell you about. I think someone is hurt in there.”
“Why did you run out?”
“Something large ran just out of view and scared the shit out of me.”
“What was it?” Brandon asked.
“Couldn’t tell. But it looked like a man”
Brandon did just what Craig didn’t want him to. He suggested they both go back in and find the person, if there even was one; he was hoping it was a figment of his high. They started back in. They took their time listening as they went, sweeping their lights back and forth.
It had been ten minutes when Brandon suggested getting back to their job so they could get home and get some sleep.
“Wait,” Craig called. “Over here!”
They ran to a small clearing next to the creek and what looked to be a woman with her throat ripped open.
Craig bent down and checked her pulse. The woman, or rather girl, didn’t have much of one.
“Call 9-1-1!” Craig yelled at Brandon.
“Way ahead of you man!”
As Brandon made the frantic call, Craig began to shiver. He just realized the someone or something that did this could still be here. He stood and began to do a quick scan of the area, checking to see if he could spot something. As he turned his light on a thicket across the little creek he again saw what he thought was the same large shape move away. He followed it with the light only to lose it.
“The operator said an ambulance and the cops are on their way,” Brandon said as he closed his cell phone. “So much for a short night.”
“I think we are being watched,” Craig whispered to Brandon.
“What?” Brandon asked with a hint of fright in his voice. “Where at?”
“I’m not sure but I saw something move over there,” Craig said pointing at the creek.
Just then something crashed through the underbrush in front of them and knocked Craig down. It actually knocked him about ten feet back. He heard Brandon scream.
He tried to get to his feet but felt kind of dizzy. He must have hit his head. He looked up and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A man was tearing out Brandon’s throat. The man turned toward Craig and uttered a guttural sound, like a growl. Then everything started to go dark.
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