“The Night Shift” — a serial short story
Part One
It was way past midnight, the kind of time that no sane person wants to be driving down a dark country road. Unfortunately, I had to get home from working the 6:00pm to 2:00am shift at the city hospital.
My mind was set on my warm, clean bed free of the odor of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol. After twenty years of working in the ER, I still found the smell revolting.
As I drove along the stretch of woods that bordered the city where I had recently moved, I felt uneasy. All my life, I had no fear of the dark, however, driving this unfamiliar route awakened a dread within me. The trees seemed to take on a life of their own in my sleep-deprived mind.
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Part Two
“Stay awake,” I cautioned myself loudly.
I turned on my brighter headlights approaching my least favorite stretch of road. The locals called it “Four Corners.” Nearing the intersection, with no stop lights, I thought I saw a man dressed in full army fatigues. It was too late for any pedestrians, especially out in the forest — I felt as if my stomach dropped.
Just then, he ran at top speed towards my car. I tried to brake, but it was as if my right foot did not work. My heart raced towards my throat. A heavy thud shattered the silence. I shook my head and squinted to adjust my vision to the dark.
“God forgive me! I just killed a man!” I exclaimed.
My instincts took over. I gunned the engine of my car.
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