"Hello?", Mike yelled through his broken windshield into the unknown. "Are you okay?"
Was she okay? He was unsure if he was okay. All parts seemed to be working except his head.
"Have I been drinking?" he thought to himself as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He fell against his door due to the 45 degree incline of his car. He crawled out through the passenger side. The girl was still crying. He stared off into a harvested wheat field. It was dark.
"Where are you? Do you need help?"
There was no reply.
Mike grabbed his emergency flashlight from his glove box and shined it towards the direction of the girl. He could not see her beyond the illuminated small shards of wheat emerging from the dirt like teeth. "I am coming towards you."
Mike walked about 100 yards before he stopped to get his bearings. The girl sounded like she was in the direction in which he walked, but she must be somewhere else. The crying was consistent. The voice made Mike unsure of the age. All he could tell was that she was young.
"Are you hurt? Why are you crying?"
The distant trees rustled in a gust of wind. Mike glanced around. "Maybe she is over there." he thought trying to convince himself. He sniffled mucus back towards his nose which he wiped onto his sleeve. Blood. He pinched his nose and started walking in a new direction.
He did not make it far when the crying stopped. "Fuck. Are you alright?" he yelled, hoping she was okay.
The wind rustled the trees. The sky was getting brighter. He could make out the landscape a little through the dim blue ambient light. For a moment he watched the stillness of the field.
"Mister, why are you bleeding?" came the voice of a little girl in front of him.
"Why were you crying? What are you doing here?" he replied.
"I asked first!" she retorted
"I crashed my car over there." Mike said pointing his flashlight towards the direction of his car. "Now what are you doing out here."
"Mike."
"Yes? Wait, how did you know my name?"
"Can you wiggle your toes?"
"Yes, I can wiggle my toes."
"Good. The let me see it."
"I would have to take off my shoes to show you."
"But your shoes are already off Mike."
Mike glanced at his feet. He was barefoot. "Well okay, here you go." Mike wiggled his toes.
"Good. No obvious spinal injuries. Mike I am Dr. Weizmann, you are at St. Mary's hospital."
The trees rustled in the wind.
"Mister? Are you okay?" asked the little girl.
"I don't know. Where is your family, I will take you there."
"I don't have a family but I have a house! You want to see?"
"Okay, take me there."
The house was not a far walk from the field. It was an old two story farmhouse. A crow cawed while stood on a straw scarecrow. Next to the scarecrow was a stone well. And behind that there was a barn.
"Are you coming in?" asked the girl standing in front of the entrance to the house.
"Yes. Is this a relative's house?"
"No, I don't have family. I stay with Stan."
"Oh, you stay with Stan. Is there a phone inside."
"Yep."
Mike walked into the house where inside the walls were wallpapered with a floral pattern. Down a long hall the kitchen had it's lights on.
"The phone is down there."
"Okay. Is Stan awake?"
"Stan is always awake."
"How is Stan always awake?"
"I don't know."
"Is Stan here?"
"He is upstairs." she said, gesturing towards the stairway near the entrance to the door. "Do you want to meet him?"
"Sure. I'd like to talk to him after I make a phone call. Do you want to tell him I am here?"
"No. That's okay, he already knows you are here."
"How's that?"
"He was looking through the window."
"But of course." Mike said a little irritated with the ambiguous language of the small child. He made his way to the kitchen which was surprisingly tidy. It looked much like a typical kitchen from the 1950s.
"They don't make them like this anymore.", Mike thought to himself while picking up the phone. He paused for a moment thinking of a number he wanted to dial. He did not want to dial 911, it was not an emergency. He dialed the operator instead.
"Operator." replied a tinny voice.
"Yes. Can you connect me to the police?"
"What listing?"
"I don't know, hold on." Mike looked down the hall where the little girl was playing with a doll.
"Hey."
The girl looked up.
"Where are we?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
Mike got back onto the phone. "Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know where I am. Could you just track my number or something?"
"Yes I can but that would be an extra fee. Do you consent?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I am connecting you with the police department right now."
The phone rang several times before it picked up. "Dispatch." replied a man on the other end.
"Yes. I was in a car wreck on…." he looked down the hall at the girl once again. Covering the receiver with his hand as he asked her what road was it. She shrugged her shoulders.
Returning to the phone he said "I don't know what road I am on."
"See any street signs Mike?"
"No I didn't. How do you know my name?"
"Mike? I am going to make a hole in your head."
"What? What for?"
"To relieve the intra-cranial pressure. Your brain is swelling, I need to drill a hole in order to relieve it."
"Then by all means doc drill away." Mike said.
"Mister?" asked the little girl tugging on his shirt. Mike was on a couch watching TV. On the screen was cop drama, with a man talking on a phone. Mike turned his attention away.
"What is it?"
"I have a name you know."
"Do you? What's your name?"
"Melissa."
"Nice to meet you Melissa. I am Mike. Is Stan okay with me staying here?"
"Stan is happy to have guests over."
"Tell Stan I will be out of here soon." Mike returned his attention to the the TV. He flipped through the channels. Stopping on a program which showed real operations. A group of surgeons were drilling into a man's skull. The camera cut away to a waiting room where the patient's family waited with worried looks on their faces.
"I can't believe these people let themselves be filmed in this situation." Mike thought to himself. "Why am I even watching this show?" Mike flipped the channel. There was a horror movie playing.
"What's the name of this film?"
Melissa shrugged her shoulders.
"I think I started this film before and never finished it."
On the screen, it was night and a man walked with his flashlight through a field that was shrouded in a low lying mist. Every little noise he heard, he flashed his light, which looked great in the mist, towards its direction.
"Hello?" blared the tiny television speakers. The man backed into a tall figure. He slowly turned around and was shocked as he pointed his light at a huge wrinkled man in overalls.
Run! Mike thought in the back of his head. Run you stupid idiot!
"Wh, who, who are you?" asked the protagonist in a stutter.
"I am Stan." said the old man in a grizzled voice.
"St, st., Stan? Wh Wh What are you doing here?"
"What are YOU doing here?"
"I was lo lo looking for my girl."
"She is not here. This is my property." said Stan. The unnamed protagonist glanced at Stan's hands which held a shotgun.
"If she is not here, then I guess… I guess I'll be on my way."
"What's the rush?" said Stan.
"It's just,", the protagonist gestured towards the shotgun.
"This? I have this because, you could never be too sure."
"Of course," said the protagonist looking around. "Even out here?"
Nodding his head, Stan replied, "Even out here. I got a phone back at my place, if you need the call the police, they could help you find your girl."
"That would be great."
This seems all too convenient? thought Mike with a knowing smile. He leaned back in his seat. Glancing out the window behind him for the police to arrive. He returned his attention back to the program where the protagonist had just hung up the phone.
"What's wrong?" asked Stan after seeing a perplexed look on the man's face.
"They're not answering."
"That's normal, this ain't New York city. Try again in an hour." said Stan reassuringly. "Care for something to eat?" Stan produced a steak.
The protagonist grabbed a piece and bit into it. "This is great! Is this farm grown?"
"No it's imported. You are making me hungry now." Stan opened the fridge. The protagonist watched Stan reach in and grab a plate. He could see all kinds of meat inside. When Stan turned around the protagonist adverted his attention back to his steak. With a plop, a ring landed next to his plate. The protagonist picked it up and stared at it intently.
"Where did you get this? This is Melissa's ring!" yelled the protagonist at Stan who just looked at him with a smug look on his face.
"Where is she? Where is Melissa?" screamed the protagonist, his desperation pulling his fragile composure apart.
"You are eating her!" replied Stan, with a matter of fact tone.
The protagonist looked at the plate. The camera cut to the plate. The camera cut to Stan. Cut to the protagonist's reaction.
The horror.
"The horror" said Mike aloud in frustration while turning off the television. "I wondered why I never finished that movie, now I know." He looked out the window.
"Where are they?"
He glanced at his watch. The hour hand was stuck on midnight.
