The Back of The Mind: A Collection of Eerie Short Stories

Walk to Salvation: Part 1 of 8

It was final. No matter what he tried, the car wouldn't start. The dirt road behind him stretched into the distance like an overgrown tail. There was nothing in sight as far as the eye could see except for the deserted trees poking up from the waves of grass. Except for the odd insects inhabiting the ground and air and a few animals probably roaming around in the grass unseen, he was alone.

Erik wiped his oil-stained hands on the piece of cloth lying next to the engine. If only he had paid attention to what his dad had taught him about car engines, but it never fascinated him as a child as much as it did his dad. To his eyes, everything about the car seemed to be in order. It was an older model that he had inherited from his grandfather when he passed. It had always done the job of getting from A to B without much trouble. He would've upgraded to a shinier ride the previous year if he wasn't let go from that shithole people called an insurance company.

Now, he was stuck between trees and rocks on the way home from a gone-to-shit holiday with his friends. He had already walked back a kilometre or two, searching for a bar of signal with no luck. After the better part of an afternoon spent with his hands fumbling around the engine in vain, the sun was now dangerously close to collecting its light thrown across the plain. At least he had a pillow in the back for the night, although none of the seats reclined as far as he'd like.

In his defence, considering all the traffic that would clog the main roads this weekend, this seemed like the best route to take home. After all, it would only have been an hour of driving on this dirt road. Judging by the lack of cars coming down here with him, he was the only one that had thought that this could work out well.

Defeated, he opened the car's back door and retrieved his trusted pillow. He would never go anywhere without it. People that could leave their pillow at home while away didn't value their comfort. He sat down on the passenger seat and propped his pillow up behind his head. The insects were starting to call out to each other now, especially the crickets. One specific cricket sat somewhere in the grass beside him, chirping away as if it was its last day on earth. They could've used it as a torture method in the medieval ages, he thought.

He was just settling into the area around him when there was a rustling in the grass not far from where he was stranded.

His eyes darted to the noise. Hopefully, it was just a herbivore coming in for a closer look at the strange red metal object now standing in their home. He had always wondered how it would feel to be eaten alive, but tonight was not the night for that experience.

It felt as if his stare would set the ocean of sunlit orange grass on fire, yet he didn't dare look away. Slowly, he started pulling the door shut. When he heard the click of the latch securing the door, he reached over the driver's seat to close the other door that was also standing wide open. As he looked back to the origin of the noise that had startled him, he met the protruding eyes of the suspect. Erik was no nature expert, but he knew danger when he saw it. He decided that the small munching deer that lifted its head into view was not dangerous, though.

With a sigh of relief at potentially living another day, he opened the passenger door again, hoping to get a closer look. He lifted himself out of the car carefully and inched closer. After a handful of successful steps without startling the animal too much, his feet became plastered to the ground. The deer started turning to run away, but was paralysed by the arrow puncturing its neck.

The stunned man didn't dare to move in fear that his spinal cord would be next. He allowed his eyes to roll to the right where the shot had come from, but nothing was in view. From a distance, the sound of crackling plant life came into earshot. He turned his head slightly to see a man built like half a tree trunk coming toward him. His torso was covered with a tattered cloth in need of a wash. A longbow was strapped across his chest, and his hair hung above his shoulders. Erik was trapped between walking up to the stranger and extending his hand or retreating to the haven of the car behind him. It took him three seconds to decide on the latter.

He almost tripped on his own feet as he spun around but made it into the car within a few leaps. He slammed the door shut behind him and put his chin between his knees out of view from the window. The carpet never looked dirtier than it did now, with his face centimetres away from his feet. His breathing was soaked with suspense, filling up the pocket of air with the stench of fear. Where did this person come from? Why did he shoot the deer right in front of him?

A knock on the window disturbed the rhythm of his breath. Did he look up to meet the pair of eyes staring down at him? Did he keep to himself and wait for the hunter to go away? Another three knocks came from the window.

"Hey," the man's harsh voice came through the window. It was only one word, but it sounded so authoritative that Erik felt forced to look up. The man's face looked rough from up close, with its lower half covered in a thick, dirty beard.

"Come," the voice pushed through the glass again.

Erik looked up now and saw that the man had turned away, walking toward the bleeding deer. His back looked just as frighteningly solid as his front. On his left, there was a pink scar running down the length of the back of his arm. Erik opened the door cautiously and found the strength to stand upright, leaning against the car for support in fear of his shaking legs.

"Come where?" Erik shouted in a weak voice. Just because the stranger had terrified him does not mean he would refuse help.

The hunter unsheathed a knife from his side and crouched down into the grass where the deer lay. "Camp," he groaned.

Erik thought it over. If there was a camp, there may be a group of other people that could help him get back on the road in the morning.

"How far is it?" Erik asked, his body getting some blood flow again.

"Not far," the hunter responded, his voice almost disappearing in the grass. The breeze was picking up speed slightly.

"Are there other people there?" He had to know. He needed some hope that it could be easier to get back home. The question hung in the air for a few seconds, and the song of the swarm of birds flying overhead filled the silence.

The hunter stood up and sheathed the knife again. "No."

Erik thought the presented situation through briefly. The hunter bowed down and threw the deer over his shoulder. Its neck had been slit, and the blood started pouring to the ground, staining the hunter's rags and legs.

"I think I'd rather stay the night in my car," he decided.

The hunter turned around to look at him. Instinctively, Erik glanced toward the ground before he met his eyes. The man before him was illuminated by the last grace of sunlight. "No fire. Freeze."