The Scenic Route by Jodi Jensen

At the thunk, thunk, thunk, Shelby pulled her car over and got out.

Awesome, a flat tire. 

Grumbling, she popped the trunk and dug around for the tire iron and jack. While she hadn’t changed a flat tire since high school when her older brother had showed her how, she was confident she could figure it out.

She wrestled the spare out of its nook, then found the jack underneath. No tire iron, though. Shit.

She glanced up and down the lonely stretch of road. Some shortcut. Her GPS had given an alternate route over a steep mountain pass. Had it been winter, she’d have gone the long way. But the sun was shining, the pavement dry, and a warm summer breeze blew, making it a pleasant day for the scenic route. Problem was, no one else seemed to want to take the scenic route, if the lack of other vehicles was anything to judge by.

Options ran through her mind. She didn’t have roadside assistance, so she’d have to pay out of pocket for a tow, and she was over an hour away from the nearest town. That left the cops. She was positive if she called dispatch, they’d send someone to help her.

Decision made, call placed, there was nothing to do but settle in and wait. The operator had said it would be at least an hour, possibly longer, before anyone would be there. Glancing down at her shorts and sneakers, Shelby decided to take a walk.

According to her maps app, there were a few things of interest in the vicinity; a hiking trail, a rock quarry, and a small lake. Thinking perhaps she’d find a public restroom as well as kill some time, she started out, setting the timer on her phone for thirty minutes so she’d know when to turn around and head back.

About a half mile down the road, she saw a sign for the trailhead and the rock quarry. She double-checked the timer—fifteen minutes left—then headed down the dirt road.

Tall Aspen trees with their signature white trunks provided ample shade, and she smiled as she strolled. Maybe it wasn’t such bad luck to have had the flat tire.

She rounded a bend and spotted a fork in the road. Left to the rock quarry and right to the trailhead. Figuring her best shot at finding a public restroom was the trailhead, she veered to the right but a bloodcurdling scream stopped her in her tracks.

Turning, she saw a young man in nothing but gym shorts and covered in blood, running down the road from the quarry.

“Help! Help me!”

Backing up a few steps, she gasped. “Shit, what happened? You okay?”

The young man’s wide, terrified gaze darted over his shoulder every few strides. Though he was barefoot, he ran as if he weren’t. He ran as if his life depended on it.

“Help me!” he pleaded.

As he got closer, Shelby turned, ready to run with him. “My car is down the road, c’mon!”

When he reached her, he collapsed against her shoulder, gripping her with bloody hands.

She recoiled from the sticky, sweaty grasp. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. The cops are already—”

“I know,” he growled. He slipped behind her and wrapped both arms over hers, clutching her in a gruesome bear hug.

“What the hell, dude?” She struggled but couldn’t free herself from his iron grip.

He licked her neck, then nipped her earlobe so hard she cried out in pain.

“The fuck are you do—”

“Shut up!” He dragged her backwards, heading in the direction of the quarry.

“No!” she screamed, fighting against his hold. “Fuck off! Help me! Someone help me!”

“Fine,” he yelled, then bit her right in the crook of the neck. “Scream all you want. No one out here but us.”

A gush of wet warmth spread from her neck. Blood… She brought her head forward, then jerked it back.

Her intended head-butt missed, and he cackled in her ear. “That’s it, fight me, sweetheart. It’s better for me that way.”

She kept screaming.

He bit her again.

She kicked and flailed.

He laughed.

She clawed at him, connecting with flesh on his legs even with her arms still pinned.

He dragged her closer to the quarry.

The alarm on her phone went off in her pocket.

For an instant, the man’s hold loosened as he startled at the noise.

Shelby jerked away and ran. Thirty minutes. Stay alive for thirty minutes.

He tackled her from behind, abruptly silencing the alarm and sending her sprawling, face-first, onto the ground.

Scrambling to find purchase, she screamed louder, her fingers raking over the hard-packed dirt.

The man grabbed her ankle and bit into her exposed calf.

She howled in pain, kicking, and connecting with some part of him.

“Fucking bitch!” He jerked her shoe off her foot and pounded the backs of her thighs with it.

Rolling over, she aimed another kick at his face, but he caught her leg and twisted hard.

Something in her knee popped and a flash of white, hot agony shot through her. She laid her head back in the dirt, momentarily paralyzed by the pain.

Until he laughed. A dark, ugly laugh.

The sound of it refueled her will to live. She’d be damned if she was going to just lie here and let him kill her. She felt around for something, anything, to use against him, but there was nothing. Nothing but dirt and pebbles.

Desperate, she grabbed two fistfuls and waited.

A few seconds later, his face appeared above hers. Blood smeared across his cheeks and chin, and he seemed to be chewing on something.

He saw her looking at his mouth and laughed again. “You taste good—”

Her stomach lurched and her calf throbbed at his words. Oh, God— Screaming, she swung her arm up and crammed the dirt from her fist into his mouth and nose.

Coughing, he spewed the dry soil, pebbles, and a chunk of flesh.

She kicked as hard as she could, her sneakered foot catching him right in the chest.

Caught off guard, he toppled backwards.

Shelby pushed to her feet and looked wildly around. There! A security shack at the entrance to the quarry. Ignoring the throbbing in her knee and calf, she ran.

Within seconds, the man was behind her, shouting and whooping, seemingly delighted by the chase.

Please be open— She raced to the small shack, her momentum crashing her into the door. She took a step back and grabbed the doorknob. It turned—thank God—and she scurried inside, bolting the lock as the man reached the door.

Too late, she realized her mistake. There was nowhere to go. No other way out. She’d trapped herself in a shack barely large enough to turn around in. Her gaze combed over the tiny space, looking for something, anything, to help her.

The man stood outside, watching her through the window.

The window…

Fuck…

Smiling, he placed his filthy, bloody palms against the glass pane, leaned back, then smashed his head through the window.

Glass shattered, the shards raining down in the tiny room.

He reached an arm inside, feeling for the lock. Fresh blood ran down his face and he licked his lips, keeping his gaze trained on her as he turned the deadbolt. One quick turn of the doorknob, and the door creaked open.

He grinned.

She choked back a scream and took her one chance before she lost it. With the man’s head and upper torso still hanging inside the window, while the rest of him was on the other side of the door, she shoved past him through the narrow opening.

Straight ahead was a dump truck, and she made a run for it, thinking to lock herself inside. As she raced around to the driver’s side door, a gruesome sight had her skidding to a stop.

A woman’s bloody head and shoulders sticking out the top of a gravel pile. The rest of her was buried. A band of silver tape was wrapped around her mouth and lower part of her head. The woman’s eyes were wide open, her horrified, pleading gaze locked on Shelby.

A muffled scream came from behind the tape, and Shelby looked over her shoulder to find the man only a few yards away.

She scrambled to the truck, jerking on the door handle.

Locked.

Fuck!

Whipping around, she came face to face with her attacker.

Wooo-eee, this is fun!” The man stalked closer, pinning her with his unhinged gaze.

“Please,” she begged. “You don’t have to do this. Just let me go—let us go.” She nodded toward the mostly buried woman.

The man lurched forward and struck Shelby in the side of the head.

***

Shelby came to slowly. Her body felt weighted down, her limbs heavy. She cracked an eyelid, then squinted against the sun. Her head lolled back, and the earthy, but slightly metallic scent of rocks filled her nose. What the hell—

“There you are, thought I’d gone too far, and you’d left me before we even got started.”

Her eyes popped open. Standing a few feet away, and looking delighted, was the blood-covered man in shorts. She glanced around, bile rising in her throat as she realized why she couldn’t move. Now she was a half-buried woman.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she struggled in vain, her cries muffled by her own strip of tape. Her gaze came to rest on the other woman. Her matted red hair glistened in the sun, her pale cheeks streaked with dirt, blood, and dried tears. The woman’s eyes were half-closed, her head tipped to the side. She wasn’t moving.

“I’m afraid she’s left us,” the man said. “Pity, I’ve never done two at once.”

Shelby gagged, swallowing hard to keep the vomit down.

“Wait right there.” The man howled with laughter. “Course, it’s not like you have a choice. Still, I want you to see this.” He scrambled up the gravel pile to the other woman, then stroked her face with a filthy hand. The look in his eyes was almost tender as he kissed the top of her head. Flashing Shelby a cheeky grin, he bit the woman’s lip, tearing a chunk off.

Shelby’s stomach gave a mighty heave, and vomit filled her mouth and gushed from her nose. Panic swarmed her—what a way to die, choking on puke.

Her vision swam, darkness closing in around the edges as her body kept heaving. Her sinuses—her whole head, burned.

Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, the man’s screams echoed.

Shaking violently, a final thought passed through her mind—better than the alternative.

Blessed darkness blanketed her.

In the distance, she registered the faint ringing of her alarm.

Then nothing.

Picture of Jodi Jensen

Jodi Jensen

Jodi Jensen grew up moving from California, to Massachusetts, and a few other places in between, before finally settling in Utah at the ripe old age of nine. The nomadic life fed her sense of adventure as a child and the wanderlust continues to this day. With a passion for old cemeteries, historical buildings and sweeping sagas of days gone by, it was only natural she’d dream of time traveling to all the places that sparked her imagination.