Alex opened the doors and Brad, Kevin, and Stephanie clambered into the back seat. Alex, John, and I occupied the front.
“Let’s head up Main and make our way through town and to the hospital,” Alex said, still seeming to be dazed over what he just saw. I didn’t blame him, I was still amazed, and we had been dealing with the slithering nightmares all night long.
I looked out the window as we slowly started to drive along Main Street. Snow covered dark windows of closed stores and shops stared back at me, as if they were humungous eyes, watching us go. Did the worms get anybody else? The thought succeeded in shuddering me far worse than the storm had thus far.
We drove in silence for several moments. On more than one occasion, the car started to spin in one direction or the other, but the sheriff kept it under control. As we neared the end of Main Street, Alex slowly applied the brakes and stopped. “Now what is this? ” he exclaimed.
Directly in front of us, was an orange Volkswagen laying on its side. Alex put the car in park and stepped outside. Deputy Rogers and I joined him. “Stay here kids,” I said, sticking my head back into the vehicle before closing the door.
“This is Ted Felt’s car,” I said, as we made our way over to the wreck.
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“Quite sure,” I responded.
“He must have spun out of control,” John conjectured.
“We have a problem here,” I said, pointing to the ground. A large dark puddle spilled out across the pure white snow. “The crash must have punctured the gas tank.”
“It looks like oil as well,” Alex noted, spotting a separate slick.
“Great,” John said. “We gotta get him out of there in a hurry if he is still inside.”
“Agreed,” I said as I started toward the front of the car. I noticed that the whole driver’s side of the car was caved in, as if a wrecking ball had hit it. I took a quick look around to see what he could have struck.
We were in the middle of the street. On the far side of the street were several parked cars covered in two feet of snow. On our side of the street just beyond Ted’s car, was what I guessed to be a mini-van, also completely concealed.
I walked a little more to my left so I could get a peek inside through the windshield. Only, there wasn’t one. It had shattered to pieces, most likely upon impact. A few yards away there were several footprints where he had apparently exited the car through the broken windshield, followed by a rather large puddle of blood. But that was it; no sign of Ted.
I was about to open my mouth and suddenly stopped. I must have made some kind of groaning noise, because John Rogers appeared behind me and asked, “What’s the matter, Fred?”
It was as if a light had suddenly come on inside my head. I saw all the pieces to the puzzle suddenly drop into place. “Spike,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” John asked.
My mind suddenly went back to the other day when I was searching the woods and the small trees that had mysteriously toppled over, the feeling of dread that I had inexplicably felt. Timmy Stephen’s trophy snowman abruptly shot through my brain as well.
“Fred?”
When Spike was killed, we found our first piece of evidence…his head. The grotesque scene of Harry Meadows’ demise quickly came to mind as well. When Norm and little Alice were taken, there had been nothing left behind, nothing at all, save for the little girl’s glove with a small amount of blood. The worms from the diner weren’t even remotely close to being large enough to make Norm disappear without a trace like that. There would have been plenty of proof that they had been there; lots of blood, body parts or…something.
Lastly, I quickly considered why the other worm had come back into the diner. We didn’t make any noise to warrant it to come back and I doubt that it truly had any rational
“Let’s head up Main and make our way through town and to the hospital,” Alex said, still seeming to be dazed over what he just saw. I didn’t blame him, I was still amazed, and we had been dealing with the slithering nightmares all night long.
I looked out the window as we slowly started to drive along Main Street. Snow covered dark windows of closed stores and shops stared back at me, as if they were humungous eyes, watching us go. Did the worms get anybody else? The thought succeeded in shuddering me far worse than the storm had thus far.
We drove in silence for several moments. On more than one occasion, the car started to spin in one direction or the other, but the sheriff kept it under control. As we neared the end of Main Street, Alex slowly applied the brakes and stopped. “Now what is this? ” he exclaimed.
Directly in front of us, was an orange Volkswagen laying on its side. Alex put the car in park and stepped outside. Deputy Rogers and I joined him. “Stay here kids,” I said, sticking my head back into the vehicle before closing the door.
“This is Ted Felt’s car,” I said, as we made our way over to the wreck.
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“Quite sure,” I responded.
“He must have spun out of control,” John conjectured.
“We have a problem here,” I said, pointing to the ground. A large dark puddle spilled out across the pure white snow. “The crash must have punctured the gas tank.”
“It looks like oil as well,” Alex noted, spotting a separate slick.
“Great,” John said. “We gotta get him out of there in a hurry if he is still inside.”
“Agreed,” I said as I started toward the front of the car. I noticed that the whole driver’s side of the car was caved in, as if a wrecking ball had hit it. I took a quick look around to see what he could have struck.
We were in the middle of the street. On the far side of the street were several parked cars covered in two feet of snow. On our side of the street just beyond Ted’s car, was what I guessed to be a mini-van, also completely concealed.
I walked a little more to my left so I could get a peek inside through the windshield. Only, there wasn’t one. It had shattered to pieces, most likely upon impact. A few yards away there were several footprints where he had apparently exited the car through the broken windshield, followed by a rather large puddle of blood. But that was it; no sign of Ted.
I was about to open my mouth and suddenly stopped. I must have made some kind of groaning noise, because John Rogers appeared behind me and asked, “What’s the matter, Fred?”
It was as if a light had suddenly come on inside my head. I saw all the pieces to the puzzle suddenly drop into place. “Spike,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” John asked.
My mind suddenly went back to the other day when I was searching the woods and the small trees that had mysteriously toppled over, the feeling of dread that I had inexplicably felt. Timmy Stephen’s trophy snowman abruptly shot through my brain as well.
“Fred?”
When Spike was killed, we found our first piece of evidence…his head. The grotesque scene of Harry Meadows’ demise quickly came to mind as well. When Norm and little Alice were taken, there had been nothing left behind, nothing at all, save for the little girl’s glove with a small amount of blood. The worms from the diner weren’t even remotely close to being large enough to make Norm disappear without a trace like that. There would have been plenty of proof that they had been there; lots of blood, body parts or…something.
Lastly, I quickly considered why the other worm had come back into the diner. We didn’t make any noise to warrant it to come back and I doubt that it truly had any rational
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