“Today’s the day!” Tom yelled as he whizzed out of his 4rd grade class room.

“No running!” his teacher yelled after him. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday!”. Tom sprinted through the crowding halls, dodging and rolling around the growing flood of students. Finally, he busted out of the front doors, towards the red Ford waiting in the parking lane.

“Hey look it’s the birthday boy!” Tom’s mother shouted from behind the wheel.

“Where are we going? Where Where Where?” Tom said eagerly. Tom always enjoyed going out to dinner for his birthday it had been a tradition for as long as he could remember.

“Well I can’t just tell you,” his mother said back, “That would ruin it!”
Tom nodded his head in feigned agreement, and began imagining where they were heading. The old car snaked through the curvy roads of their small town. Glancing up through the spottily speckled sunroof, Tom saw clusters of rain clouds moving swiftly to block the sun. Before they knew it, little pearls of rain began dousing the red Ford.

“Oh my word,” Tom’s mother said under her breath, “This looks bad”. Small streams of water began flowing over the slanted black asphalt. The pavement shimmered with the cold, wet water. Tom heard the cars tires slip and squeal, struggling to get a grip on the increasingly wet road. The little streams grew in size, and in speed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” Tom mumbled feeling a lump in his throat. Without any warning, a flood of water rushed over the small forest road. Tom and his mother screamed as the wave of muddy slush lifted up the small helpless car, pushing it off the road and into the wilderness. Tom heard the tires unleash a cacophony of squeals, before blowing out simultaneously. He felt his fingernails dig into the brown leather of the car. His body was frozen, eyes stretched as wide as possible. All he heard was the short shrieks of his mother, along with the scraping and smashing of the metal car. The last thing Tom remembered seeing was the bright yellow diamond shape of a “Water over Road” sign that had flung itself into the glass windshield.

Finally, the car stopped. Tom didn’t know which way was up. His world seemed smaller. Mixed and jumbled along with his body. He stayed that way in silence for a long time. Finally, Tom forced his tight eyes open, millimeters at a time. With heavily strained corneas, Tom twisted his stiff neck, looking over at the driver’s seat next to him. Empty. Empty? Where was she? The driver’s door swung gently in the wind. Wide open.

“M-M-Mom?” Tom said quietly. No response. Tom pulled the small metal handle on his own door. Bam! Tom jumped in amazement as the entire door fell off of the small car. Carefully stepping over the dismantled door, Tom planted his Nikes into the muddy ground. He felt drips of mud from the top of the car plop on his head, along with the cool rain from above. Tom remembered getting these Nikes from his mother for his birthday last year. They were blue and orange, a bit flashy for his taste. But he remembered being the talk of his class for a few days.

“Mom?” He said louder this time. Had she fallen out? Had she left him there? Was she alive? The thoughts all jig-sawed through his dazed mind. He looked around into the shadows. Dimly lit by what was left of the cars headlights, the forest around him looked eternal. How long had the car fallen? He had no idea. It could have been days for all Tom knew. He calmed himself a bit and ventured back to the car.

“Mom always keeps a flashlight in the glove box…” he mumbled to himself, trying to lift his own spirits. He pulled the little handle and the glove box swung open with a mechanical thud that echoed through the forest. After some digging, Tom pulled out the tiny metal flashlight. The textured steel felt cool in his shivering hands. He clicked the little rubber button, sending a solid beam of light straight into the night.

Eventually, the flashlight revealed a small worn trail in the brush. With thoughts of his missing mother, Tom started down the dark trail. Twigs and leaves crunch under Tom’s Nikes as he made his way down the narrow trail.
“Where at?” a voice said in the distance. Tom froze. The flashlight fell from his stiff hand to the wet forest floor.
“Down by dat south road,” another voice commented.
“A little Ford”.

Tom’s eyes widened as he gasped under his breath. He glanced back down the trail, but his mother’s Ford was already far behind. He reached down and clicked off the flashlight, sliding it into his pocket. It was then when he saw the dim light coming from the end of the path. Shadows dance in front of the light, moving back and forth. Tom heard more quiet voices but he couldn’t discern their words. Only that they were moving, forward…closer.
“Uh…Hello?” Tom said in a shaky voice.
“Well hello there,” said a voice from behind Tom.
Tom swung around to see only darkness. Suddenly, a light illuminated the wood and Tom got his first glimpse of the mysterious voice. Behind Tom stood two tall, heavyset men. These two men wore old jeans and flannel shirts that seemed too dry for such a rainy night. The men each held dated flame lanterns that seemed to glow brighter than any flame should.

Tom swallowed loudly and held his breath.

“Don’t you be afraid son,” said another voice from the trail’s opposite end. Tom swung around once more, seeing a similar sight. A single man approached. Dressed in ragged overalls and a faded leather jacket, he wore a yellow rain hat and had a beard that reminded Tom of the Gordon’s Fisherman. Tom’s eyes remained glued to the tall man in front of him. In the man’s hand was the long, black, slender form of a shotgun.

“Saw your car back there,” One of the men behind Tom said as he walked past over to join the bearded man. “Damn nasty drop.”

“Yeah but he looks alright.” The armed man said, resting the shotgun over his shoulder. He adjusted the yellow rain hat to show his dark eyes.

“Aw don’t you mind this none son,” He said, tapping the gun softly. “Black bears”. Tom nodded and forced out a smile. He knew very well that there hadn’t been black bear sightings in these parts for decades. “Why don’t you come down to the cabin?” the third man asked, walking past Tom. He had been silent up till now. “It’s just at the end of this trail” the man said, picking at a scar across his chin. The moon shaped scar led up to a crusty, scabbed over lump where his left ear should have been. It looked like an old scar, but there was evidence of the wound having been reopened. The man itched feverishly at the horrid scar, but whenever his rabid hand would graze the ear lump, he would flinch, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. Tom watched the small flakes of skin fall from the man’s nauseating face.
“Alright” Tom said in his whispering voice. He glanced over at the shotgun. Did he have a choice?

The three men led Tom down the path towards the dim light Tom had seen earlier. They got to a small shady cabin surrounded by broken down brush and leaves.

“So-So you’re hunters?” Tom asked, working up his courage.

“Duck mostly,” said the man with the shotgun. “But we take whatever we can find” He added with a grin. “As you can see…” He swung open the cabins small door to reveal a frightening sight. The walls of the cabin were laced with matted animal furs, and bones hung from every wooden beam. Cracks in the old ceiling let in rays of the moon’s eerie light, casting a glow over the barbaric butchery of the small room. A flash of lighting lit up the wood causing Tom to jump, slipping on the wet floor. He lurched into the cabin, turning in circles. Bones rattled all over, some still coated with skin and blood. Tom took a step back and tripped over something soft. He rolled over and saw a large bulging burlap sack, soaked with blood. He jumped up, ignoring the wetness seeping into his jeans.

“I-I-I-I gotta get out of here. I really should be going now” Tom said making his way to the door.

“Oh but you just got here,” the armed man said, swinging down the shotgun. “No sense leaving before dinner”. Tom shuttered, looking back at the bloody sack. “That just ain’t good manners!” The man folded one edge of the yellow hat, and squatted on the ground. He reached down and grabbed something large and pale from the ground. “Pretty fresh.” The man said, holding up the pale object to the light.
Tom screamed as he saw the bleached human skull in the man’s rough hand. The man let out a loud cackle and he tossed the skull into the woods.

“No no no!” Tom said out loud. “I’m only 10!” Tom yelled at the three men, who were now surrounding him.
Suddenly, the skull came back flying out of the woods. It soared past Tom’s face and struck the armed man in the right temple. He jumped, then instantly fell to the ground, smashing his yellow hat and dropping the weapon onto a pile of rocks. The gun must have caught a loose twig, because it discharged a round seconds after hitting the stone bed. The deafening shot shook Tom’s mind and his ears pulsed, ringing euphoniously. The second man clutched his bulging stomach, and drops of blood began to dribble out where the bullets must have hit him. The third man with the scar fell to the ground in shock, holding his right ear and left lump, screaming loudly. Tom stood there stood still as a statue among the chaos. Before he could move, the shadowy silhouette of a woman leapt out of the brush and grabbed him. Tom Yelled at first, but then nestled himself into the familiar arms of his mother. She began to sprint back towards the woods where she came from.

“Mom, mom, mom did you see-” he was cut off by his mother’s high pitched voice.

“Shush now,” she mumbled to him. “It’s around here somewhere…”
Finally, they stopped at an old flatbed Chevy truck behind the cabin. Tom’s mother set him down and she reached into dirty holes in the cars’ aged jaded body, searching for a pair of keys. Finally, her hand emerged from a small rusty hole in the cars’ hood, holding a pair of old keys. “Get in!”

Tom ran around the truck and slid in through the broken window. He stopped for a split second, hearing a series of bone chilling screams from the cabin behind them.

“Come on…Come on!” Tom’s mother yelled, turning the keys repeatedly in the cars’ ignition. The engine was rumbling, turning over without a start. Tom could see the beads of sweat forming at his mother’s creased brow. Tasting his own salty perspiration, tom prayed that the old car had one spurt of life left in it. The screams were getting closer now; a few familiar flaming lights appeared behind the gurgling truck. Closing in on the two family members. With one final twist, the engine roared to life. Tom’s mother slammed the truck into drive and kicked her foot against the creaky gas pedal. The cracked tires spun for a second before catching on the soft ground. Tom turned around reluctantly to see the sinister figure of the third man leap onto the truck’s bed behind them.

“Mom!” Tom screamed at the top of his lungs. “Goooo!”
Tom could smell the stench of the rancid scar on the man’s revolting face. The man growled and reached his lanky arms towards Tom’s throat. With a leap, the man’s right hand caught hold of Tom’s soft cheek. The man dug his split, sharp nails into his skin before stumbling and falling out of the speeding vehicle. The screams dulled behind them and eventually silenced. Tom reached up and touched his scraped face, wincing at the sharp sting. They sped through the brush before finally breaking through to the solid highway that split the forest. Tom let out a breath and looked over at his mother. Her eyes were bloodshot but they were focused straight ahead.

“It’s over mom.” Tom said as he leaned over and clutched his mother’s arm.

“I know baby,” she said with a hesitant voice. She reached over and caressed his wounded face, giving him a kiss on each cheek. As any mother would. They drove quickly back to their small home in the city. Finally safe, Tom’s mother parked the old truck in their driveway and they ran to the door. Tom hurried to unlock it and they both ran inside. Tom knew his mother was eager to call the police but as soon as she stepped inside. She froze.

“Mom?” Tom asked, quietly. “What is it?”
His mother didn’t say a word; she simply raised her arm, pointing to the kitchen counter. Tom slowly glanced at the same area. At the same kitchen. At the same counter. He saw the same yellow. Wrinkled. Rain hat.