All characters and most locations mentioned in this story are purely fictional. The author does not know anyone that resembles these character, either alive or dead. Some of the locations are real, but are only used as geographical waypoints. The towns of White Hill and Cranston do not exist anywhere near Raystowne Lake.
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It was 2 o'clock in the morning when Jared's life got turned on its head.
Jared and his brother David were heading up to visit family in rural Pennsylvania, driving down the quiet back roads and through picturesque towns with only one 4-stop intersection. Each one looking like it belonged on the back of a postcard of quaint historic locations. As they drove they talked, their conversation ranging from music to politics to relationships and work. The fog was rolling in and they hadn't seen another car for over half an hour when David commented on how quiet the night was.
"Feels like we're driving through ghost towns out here. Like one of those sci-fi/horror movies where there's a crowd of people then suddenly all but one of them is gone in a swirling fog and you just know something bad is coming after the one person left standing."
"Thank you for that happy thought, David!" Jared snorted but smiled to himself. He fought down a laugh as he remembered how many times the brothers had told scary stories during their many sleep-overs, trying to frighten their friends witless. He looked over as he heard David start to chuckle and realized he was remembering the same thing.
"Do you remember that camp out at Brian's grandad's farm? The one where you made up the story about the zombie chickens?" David was outright laughing now. "You... you... I remember you sitting there at the campfire and looking around for inspiration. When you saw the chicken house, the look on your face..." David was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.
Jared started to laugh as well as fond memories returned, "You remember how scared Dillon got? He was afraid to eat dinner for weeks! I thought Brian's grandad was going to kill me when Brian told him why no one would eat any fried chicken for lunch the next day." Jared laughed so hard his eyes started to water. He pulled the truck to the side of the road next to a bridge abutment to wipe his eyes and settle himself. As his eyes cleared they settled on the pile of refuse caught in the beam of his headlights. Still smiling, he started to turn to David when he thought he saw something move.
The smile fell from his face as he grabbed David's arm.
"Dave?" He pointed, "Did that trash pile just move?"
David was still wiping his eyes and chuckling as he looked at Jared and said, "Great! the zombie chickens finally got to you!" He took in the stunned look on Jared's face and turned to look where Jared was pointing.
David stopped breathing as he, too, saw movement. "It's probably just a breeze, right?" He whispered, trying to re-assure them both.
Suddenly, a sharp movement showed a bloodied hand as a thin white arm flailed out of the pile. A small section of the pile moved away from the rest, sliding along the pavement, then slowly returned as the arm lay still.
Jared and David glanced at each other, twin looks of horror etched on their faces.
Jared gulped, "What... Whoever that is, they're alive. Maybe we should check?"
David nodded silently.
As they got out the car and closed the doors, the smaller section moved away again, this time further into the shadows under the bridge. David thought he saw eyes, but wasn't sure he really wanted to check it that closely. It came to an abrupt stop, just in the shadow and they heard a small whimper.
"I think it's a dog," David whispered.
"No, I'm pretty sure it's a human," Jared replied.
David looked over to where his brother was crouched next to the pile and realized that it wasn't a trash pile at all, but a young woman, crumpled to the pavement, her red hair soaking in a pool of blood. As he walked over to her, he noticed a thin blue leash looped around her hand and running to the shadows, apparently attached to the dog's collar.