The Flat Tire

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Mike had driven about ten miles into his road trip before he realized that something was wrong. He couldn't shake the feeling in the back of his head. Like someone was getting ready to smash a nail into his head with a hammer. Mike stopped his car, got out of the vehicle to think for a bit, and that was when he saw the flat tire. 

Mike cursed for a couple of minutes, and attempted to give the tire a light-hearted kick. He knew better than to lose his temper on this tire, he would only injure his damn foot. Mike leaned against his car, massaging his temple. He was stuck on a road in the middle of the woods. 

He wondered how long he had been driving on this flat tire, and he made the mistake of not bringing a spare one. The worst part of course, was that he did God knows what kind of damage by driving on a flat tire. He had gotten so annoyed with his brother's constant warnings about what could happen out on the road. 

It was Mike's first road trip, and his brother, John, deemed himself an expert. He was a truck driver, and he told him many adventures he had experienced on the road. The one thing John never went through, and prayed he would never go through, is running into a maniac. 

There was one conversation that Mike and his brother were having during a night out of drinking on Mike's porch. John had opened another beer, and he suddenly got a serious look in his eyes. 

"Hey…I have been meaning to tell you about this. I heard it from two of the ranch hands in that small town. You know the one with the farm where an entire family was murdered in the 70s?"

"I thought that was just a rumor."

John let out a loud burp. 

"Fuck no. That shit ain't a rumor. The cops apparently confirmed that case actually happened. I even spoke to the oldest cop over there, and he was so pissed off he was never able to figure out who killed them. And that case still haunts him."

"How did you even get to speak to him?"

"He was at the gas station where I was buying a couple of snacks for the road. I felt so bad for him. If I had gone through something like that, I would have lost my mind too."

John shook his head. "It's so sad what happened on that farm. A sick bastard sliced and diced that entire family. After hearing that story, I'm now terrified of running into someone like that. Who knows what sick fucks like that think?"

Mike didn't want to think about something so messed up, but in a situation like the one he is currently stuck with, it's hard not to think about. He was on this trip to go visit his ex - wife. Well, they weren't technically divorced yet, but he was hoping to somehow win her back. 

He was still in love with her, and he thinks she was too. He thought of that small moment they had last week, when they were about to kiss on his porch, but his idiot brother had interrupted them. She was laughing afterwards, and touched Mike's shoulder, her gaze lingering on him. That was enough for him to know there was a possible future for them. 

Mike heard a car driving down the road, heading in his direction. He lifted up a hand to alert the driver, and he felt instant relief when the car came to a stop. The driver got out. It was a young man, somewhere in his thirties. He was quite tall, a height difference that made Mike feel slightly insecure. He never liked feeling short, it always bothered him ever since he was in high school. 

"What happened here?," the man asked. 

Mike pointed at his flat tire. "That did. Do you have a spare?"

The man shook his head back and forth. "No. Sorry. I could give you a ride back to town. I live in that one where that farm is. You know…the Murder Farm?"

Mike tried his best not to groan. "I know which one you are talking about. I would really appreciate your help. I'm heading to my wife's house. I'm paying her a visit."

Mike did not realize that he had called her his wife, but he truly never stopped loving her. The man nodded. 

"I'll make some room in the truck. I have a messy vehicle, and my girlfriend is always telling me to make room in there, in case I ever have a passenger. I guess today is my lucky day!"

The man beamed, and ran over to his car. Mike thought his excitement was kind of weird, but he supposed it had to do with living in a small town. Mike took a peek at his tire, killing time to assess the damage he had done to his car. He grimaced, wondering how much it was all going to cost. He studied the tire, and flinched when he saw something strange. There was a large gash in the tire. It had been slashed. 

"What the fuck?"

Mike stood up, and felt something absolutely painful shoot through his side. He looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his side. He slowly turned around, and saw the young man standing behind him, holding a crossbow. 

Mike slowly fell down, his back hitting his car. He slid down the body of the vehicle, until he landed on his ass. 

"Why?," Mike croaked. 

The man threw the crossbow to the ground, and pulled out a knife. 

"I was the one who fucked up your tire. I was following you for quite a while. I didn't think it would take you that long to notice. But don't worry, you won't ever give a shit about something so trivial like that again."

The man took his time walking over to Mike, placed the blade against his neck, and slit his throat. Mike gurgled, feeling his life drain out of his body. The man was on his knees, watching him die. Mike thought of his wife's laugh before he died. It took a while, but the man was patient. He was taught to be patient whenever he killed. 

Satisfied with his handiwork, he stood up, retrieved his crossbow, and walked back to his car. He threw the weapon on the passenger seat. He wasn't kidding when he told his victim that his car was filled up. There was a bag of weapons on the passenger seat. Some of them were already bloodied up. The man smiled, thinking about his boss. 

He would be pleased with him. He always was. 

The man drove away, leaving behind his crime scene. Authorities would discover the body much later that day. The same cop that Mike's brother had mentioned would be the one to arrive at the scene. He wouldn't be surprised to see the state of the victim. He looked at his partner. 

The young man was pale, his eyes never leaving the corpse. 

"I can't believe this is the third one in two weeks," he murmured. 

The older cop bowed his head. 

"It never fucking ends."

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Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn