A Fatal Meeting
The phone buzzed. A message flashed across the lock screen:
“See you later.”
Peter relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and looked down at his phone. Suddenly, the phone flew from his hand. The car heaved up. His head shot down towards the steering wheel and then whipsawed back into the headrest. A searing pain spread across his chest in a diagonal band where the seat-belt’s rough nylon strap had cut into his chest. He pulled his foot from the gas and let the car coast onto the shoulder. Peter let out a gentle breath. He brushed his fingers gently over his torso. Nothing broken. The rear mirror showed only empty road behind him. He slumped into his seat and closed his eyes.
He blinked and looked outside: Nothing but thick forest on either side. It was thirty miles to the nearest city. No way there was a speed bump out here. Peter undid his seat buckle and pushed his shoulder blades back. A bolt of pain pierced through his right shoulder. He shook his head and swore.
He opened the door and stepped onto the side of the road. A low something laid sprawled out behind him. Peter felt the blood drain from his face. He walked down the road and examined the thing. It was a man, slender and pale. A shaggy mop of black hair half-covered his face. He wore a frayed jean jacket one size too large. Except for a trickle of blood that sprang from his…
