Hangman's Road

So, you want to learn the mystery of "Hangman's Road"? You want to know, exactly, why they call it Hangman's Road? Have you got a minute, my dear? Because it is rather a lot to relate. All true, by the way. I got it, first hand, from a friend of a friend, whose chiropractor's dentist got it from his dental assistant; she heard it straight from the mouth of the aunt of the policeman WHO WAS ACTUALLY THERE. So, as you can tell, it comes from an unimpeachable source.

Imagine, if you will, two kids. We'll call them Jimmie and Sue. They park out on Hangman's Road, under a weeping willow, the great tree that looks like gnarled fingers reaching up to the godless sickle moon, in the month of June. But I wax poetic.

It's a little cul-de-sac. A lovers' trysting place. And Jimmie says, "You look real beautiful tonight, Sue."

And she does. And she reeks of perfume. And she says, "Thanks, baby. You're not looking so bad yourself tonight." And it is an awkward moment. But, soon, things grow hot and heavy.

Lips locked in romantic bliss, Jimmie says, "Oh Sue, baby, baby. I love you. I'll always love you. You're the only girl in the world to me." His breathing becomes ragged, and she pushes him back a little, her hands on his chest, pressing.

Sue responds, "I love you too, baby. You mark me, mark my soul. BUT, now isn't the time. I don't believe in just...rushing into it. I have to have something first."

He stops, feeling his ardor burn inside him, as hot as an Alabama brush fire. "What?"

She suddenly snaps back, buttoning the top button of her sweater as she pulls it tighter around her shoulders.

"LIKE...marriage, you dunderhead! A real, committed relationship. Not something cheap and tawdry..."

Jimmie feels his lust flatten like a punctured tire. Deflated, he says, "Aw come on, Sue! Don't be so old-fashioned! Get with the times, babe! People do it all the time!"

And Sue looks at him, rather nonplussed.

He continues. "Yeah, some do it in the bushes, some do it in the street. Some do it like monkeys in the...midsummer heat!"

"You're a poet and didn't know it!" Sue bursts out laughing. It is an infectious fillip of mirth, and soon, Jimmie follows. Just then, over the car radio, they hear a crackle, and an urgent voice intones:

"We interrupt this program to bring you the following special bulletin. A dangerously crazed man, Morton Titticut, has escaped from the El Modesto Home for the Criminally Insane. Titticut, found guilty of the murder of a priest, two nuns, a Boy Scout leader, and a social worker, is suspected in dozens more. Judged insane, he has now escaped and is at large, currently, as we speak. He is believed to be in the immediate vicinity of Shelby County. Citizens are urged to stay indoors, and, BY ALL MEANS, avoid parking in lonely, desolate places, or 'lover's lanes', as they are popularly known, as Titticut is known to frequent such locales. Titticut is missing a hand, and is known to wear a hooked prosthesis, which he was allowed, despite the high risk it posed to inmates and staff alike. No further information is available at this time, but we will keep you posted as new details come to light..."

Sue exclaims, "My God, can you believe what we just heard?"

Jimmy considers. "Sure. Men bite dogs. Babies are born with extra limbs. Rock N' Roll hoodlums terrorize little old ladies just trying to push their senile husbands in front of oncoming traffic. It's a HELL of a nasty world." He then adds, "I don't think we should stay here, though. I think we should leave."

"Right on, baby!" says Sue. "Like, we should be gone yesterday!"

"Right."

Jimmie turns the key in the ignition.

Chuga-chugga-chugga-chugga....

"WHAT THE HELL?"

He tries it again. Again:

Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga...

"DAMN...DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!"

A third and fourth time, and the car STILL refuses to turn over. What, thinks Jimmie, did someone put sugar in their gas tank?

"Baby, I think someone put sugar in the gas tank!"

"How?" Sue begins, her mouth hanging open in slack wonder. Wouldn't they have heard someone rustling around in the bushes near the car? Wouldn't they have seen his shadow?

Jimmie tries it again and again, to no avail. Finally, he groans, says, "I'm going to have to walk to a gas station, get us help. You wait here. I'll be back soon!"

Sue gasps, exclaims, "NO! Jimmie! Don't you DARE leave me here alone--"

"Sue, It'll be alright!"

"No, it won't!"

Jimmie sighs again. She is wearing heels, and he damn well knows it will slow them down; plus, he thinks, with that maniac loose, she'll be safer locked up in the car.

"Look, Sue, there's a 24-hour gas station about a mile down the road. I'll go get help and be right back. You can't make it there and back wearing those stupid high-heeled shoes. Besides, you'll be safer locked up in here!"

"Jimmie," Sue starts to whine, before suddenly realizing it is futile. "I-I'm so scared!"

He puffs air out between his cheeks, and, looking downcast by the dashboard lights, says, "I know, baby. But, I'll be back soon. Look, just lie down in the seat, with that old blanket in the back over you, and no one will even know you're in here. Got it?"

After a brief pause, Sue manages to choke out a little, pathetic: "Got it."

Jimmie replies, "Okay."

And with that, he opens the car door. But, before he goes, he leans over and kisses her on the lips. Then it is out the driver's side door. He slams it shut, making sure it is locked first, and departs without another word.

Sue sits with rising fear hammering her heart. Every little noise, every rustle of the bushes brought on by the wind, the creaks and drips of the environment, sounds like a threatening, unearthly din, a voice of alien, predatory darkness speaking to her in a language she can scarcely comprehend. She thinks of turning on the radio, but Jimmie has taken the keys, leaving her alone, cold, in the darkness; her sense of fear mounting steadily, like icy tendrils of creepiness gripping and clawing at her heart. The woods gleam evilly in the summer moonlight, and shifting shadows become lurking phantoms and stalking maniacs in the deep wells of black. She reaches in the back seat, retrieves the blanket, pulls it around her shivering shoulders. She finds herself crouching down in the seat, sliding into the footwell. Outside, she fancies she can see a shifting silhouette in the light of the moon.

Keep a grip Sue, you're letting your mind play tricks on you! she thinks. She begins to visualize all manner of spooks and goblins, remembers books she has read on legendary creatures of alien origin: Bigfoot, Moth Man, swamp creatures; UFOs and alien abductors.

Oh, Jimmie, hurry up and make it back before I lose it! she says to herself, feeling on the verge of full-on panic. She closes her eyes against the night, trying to calm herself, trying to relax.

What was that?

She hears a noise. A thudding chomp that seems to be banging the roof of the car.

It's probably just a tree branch, she tries to tell herself. Calm down, you hysterical idiot!

Ka-thonk. Kathonk. Kathonk.

There it is again! What is that? It is as if someone is beating a rhythm against the roof of the car!

Sue sits up in the seat, her eyes scanning the darkness outside the windows. She can see nothing. Her heart is hammering inside her chest like a drum.

Ka-thonk. Ka-thonk. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump...

Sue feels the fingers of cold fright clutch at her bosom. She chokes back a sob, a scream; her chest is heaving, and cold trickles of sweat run down her forehead.

Outside, she thinks she can see a black shade flit past the drivers' side window; it is the form of a man.

She begins to yell, her head darting about in the dark; she shrinks into the seat well, crouching low, as if she expects long arms to tear back the roof of the car and claim her.

***

She eventually passes out, just before dawn; cold and thirsty, she has screamed herself hoarse. She comes to wakefulness with a shout, too; someone is tapping on the windshield.

The beam of a flashlight is shining into the car. She starts, wild-eyed with panic, but then, slowly, realizes she is staring into the flashlight beam of a policeman.

The cop taps again. Sue pulls her aching bones back into the seat, opens the door. The cop stands quickly out of the way. Before she can do anything else, however, the cop, who is a female officer, throws a blanket around Sue's shoulders and says, "It's okay miss, it'll be okay. Just come with me and my partner. Come on now. Just, DON'T LOOK BACK."

In the east, the sun is just beginning to peep over the horizon. The lady cop walks Sue slowly to the back door of the squad car; the "cage," as it is popularly known among criminals. Her partner is sitting in the front seat, on the CB, speaking rapidly.

She opens the door for Sue, starts to slowly help her in. Sue asks, groggily, "Wha-wha about Jimmie?" But the cop never answers her. Why, wonders Sue, still in a hazy, half-dreaming fog, had she told her NOT To look back as she walked her from the car?

It is just then that Sue catches a glimpse of what she is NOT suppose to see, as the sun comes up and the world grows brighter and clearer.

She feels a scream caught in her throat. Then, instantly, it erupts from her mouth, piercing the early morning stillness, sending animals rustling in the bush.

For, she now knows what was making the "ka-thud" sound on the roof of the car. It is a pair of heavy leather boots, size ten with eight eyelets. They are attached to a body, one that is bouncing up and down like a puppet on a string. It is hanging from a noose, tied to a heavy branch, hanging right over the roof of the car.

It is Jimmie.