Hit-and-Run

Heavy thumping metronomic footsteps- getting closer, getting louder, taking over every thought… thud, thud, thud, thud, a rhythmic raggedy breath between the pounding… strained and gasping for air…

Mitch woke in a cold sweat reminiscent of the DTs he bore during those long sobering up months. Beth stirred lightly beside him, but a mask of peaceful sleep remained on her face. He rose from his cold puddle in the shape of his body and stumbled toward the hallway, down the staircase, and into the kitchen. He glanced around but knew the house held no remedy in the form of liquor. No, he gave that up months ago. But the sound of the shoes continued to haunt him…

The next morning, Beth sipped her coffee, holding their two-year-old daughter Kimberly in her left arm. They giggled about A, B, Cs and Beth pointed to pictures on the front page of the newspaper, creating false stories that made Kimberly laugh. Mitch was thankful the front page did not contain the unsolved hit-and-run of the twenty-year-old Mary Beth Carson who was hit by a car while running at night (what a silly thing to do) and left to suffer and die by herself on the side of the highway. According to police, there were no leads in sight.

He hadn’t meant to leave her there, broken and bloodied…her eyes searching his for help, her breath raspy. He could hear the air escaping through a collapsed lung. He answered her pleading eyes by standing up and backing quickly toward his truck, jumping in the driver’s seat and rolling away at a casual pace so as not to draw attention. Three miles away, he pulled over and checked his truck. Licking his thumb and wiping away a small splatter of blood, he was amazed at the lack of damage.

Mitch thumbed through the classifieds, his heart thumping to a beat he wished he never heard.

BANG

Mitch jumped, spilling hot coffee on his pressed pants and onto the classifieds. “Goddamnit!”

His cry brought a frown to Beth’s face and Kimberly’s lower lip started to tremble uncontrollably. He turned his eyes quickly away from old habits of yelling and drunken raging. That was all in the past now, he reassured himself.

A blackbird had flown into the window, leaving a smear of blood and a poof of feathers behind. Mitch stared for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the classifieds. Only one ad on the page was spared from the brown coffee stain- an ad for an old farmhouse across the river away from Mississippi and into the border of Arkansas. A bank was selling the property on behalf of a dead man, and “make us an offer!” caused Mitch to cock his head slightly. Maybe if they moved… the noises would stop…

“But…why? What about your job?” Kimberly was down for her nap, and Mitch pitched the farmhouse idea to Beth.

“I have a lot of flexibility, Beth. I can work remote, maybe drive in a couple of days a month… becoming a partner in the firm opens options for me. I just feel like we could use this to get out of the city. It’s set up already so I could even learn to farm.”

Beth giggled as Mitch stood up and pretended to hook his thumbs into invisible overalls and chew on an imaginary piece of long grass.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Mitch froze, the running was above his head, running to his daughter’s room, the ragged breath followed.

“Mitch? Are you ok?” Beth followed his eyes to the ceiling but did not hear whatever he heard.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, pulling his eyes back to Beth. “I just think this move would help us start over with my newly found sobriety too. It’s hard for me to be here stuck in my old stomping grounds.” And driving every damn day over the same damn bridge where residents created a shrine for Mary Beth.

Suddenly, Kimberly began to cry, and Beth rose. “Do whatever you think is best for this family, Mitch. I trust you.” She bustled out of the room toward where Mitch heard the running footsteps stop in his daughter’s room.

***

The old farmhouse finally came into view. It was largely obscured by towering corn stalks covering the 20 acres surrounding the house. The dirt driveway was lined with them but opened up to a large gravel parking pad that led to the house itself. It was traditional with its squared edges painted white with green shutters that seemed to sag a little. Mitch won the auction by outbidding everyone who inquired, going so far as to pay more than the house was worth. He rented his family’s old house to his sister and even threw in his white Chevy as a perk to help her get back on her feet after a bad divorce. He transferred the title into her name… out of the goodness of his heart and love for his sister... And just in case.

The family Subaru crunched to a halt in front of the porch steps, and Beth busied herself with Kimberly, grabbing her purse and diaper bag. Mitch stood still, listening… waiting… but heard only silence. His shoulders relaxed like they hadn’t in a month, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I agree babe, you did a great job. This is just what we needed,” Beth grinned and carried Kimberly carefully up the porch steps and through the front door.

The movers arrived shortly after them, and everything was in place. That night, as Beth breathed next to him, Mitch lay wide awake, listening. He only heard the tick-tock of their old Grandfather Clock that Beth insisted stay in the foyer. He eventually fell asleep, finding that it wasn’t just the noises that made him restless. When we closed his eyes, he saw hers- begging him, but unable to speak.

***

Day thirty: Nighttime. Mitch and Beth had just turned out the lights when Kimberly started crying.

“I got her…” Beth crawled from the bed, feeling her way down the hallway toward the child’s room.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Mitch’s eyes shot open, straining against the darkness. It was a new moon tonight. The blood pounded in his ears as he listened. He could no longer hear Beth or Kimberly. But he heard someone running downstairs.

“Enough of this shit!” Mitch grabbed his shotgun from under the bed and marched through the darkness, feeling the hard wood floor beneath his bare feet. The banister guided him down the stairs to the foyer with the Godfather Clock. He froze and listened, waiting.

Tick-tock, tick- tock... THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD.

Heart racing, Mitch shouldered his shotgun and followed the noise to the basement door.

Thud, thud, ragged breath, thud, thud, ragged breath.

He ripped open the door and headed down the stairs toward the single bulb with the pull string that would light up his nightmare once and for all. Reaching the cord, he pulled it briskly and shouldered his shotgun again. But there was nothing there. He circled in place, glaring into the shadowed places…

Then, there was a wooden crate in the far northwest corner that hadn’t been there before. The top was askew. Walking closer, Mitch discovered a hidden cache of old corn whiskey.

Just a little bit to calm me down…surely that’s just what I need.

***

Beth sat and rocked Kimberly back to sleep and fell asleep herself, upright in the rocking chair. Suddenly, she jolted awake, not sure how long she had been asleep. She carefully tucked Kimberly back into bed, snugging the blanket up to her chin to ward off the chill in the old farmhouse. She stood tall, stretched, and wrapped her arms around her nightgown as she walked toward the bedroom door.

In the hallway, she picked up her pace back toward the master bedroom but froze near the foyer stairs. She heard running steps intertwining with hers. Were they coming from the basement?

Her cold feet padded down the stairs where she paused to listen again.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Remarkably in time, like someone who ran regularly.

It was then that Beth noticed that the basement door was open, and a soft light illuminated the floor at the top of the staircase. Basements had always creeped her out…

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

A quick, faint shadow passed through the visible light on the wood floor.

Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, Beth pressed up against the wall and slid slowly toward the basement. The running noise crescendoed, then quieted, then crescendoed, then quieted again.

At the top of the stairs, she cautiously peeked her head around the door frame…

POP.

The single bulb from down below went out.

Plunged into sudden darkness, Beth’s breath hurried, but she forced herself to remain quiet. Blood pounded in her ears as she strained to hear any noise to give her comfort.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

The metronomic running started again.

Beth reversed course and tip-toed into the kitchen, rummaging around in the junk drawer until she found the emergency flashlight. But she was suddenly unsure if turning it on would make things better or worse.

Where was Mitch?

She was surprised that this was the first time she thought of him and where he might be.

Because you already know he’s down there.

A cold bead of sweat trickled down her spine, and she dragged herself unwillingly back toward the door to the basement.

“Mitch? Are you down there, honey?”

The footsteps stopped.

The whole world held its breath as she waited for a response. Beth peered into the darkness from the hallway but could only see pitch black- the kind of deep black that is disorienting and will cause tiny stars to form before your eyes as they search for any small light to take hold of.

A raggedy breath. Distant but audible and full of fluid.

Beth stopped breathing entirely.

CLICK.

Beth jumped in the air, the hair on the back of her neck standing straight out. The T.V in the living room clicked on, spreading a deep staticky blue hue across the living room and spilling out into the hallway. The night newscaster discussed the latest headlines.

“And the most remarkable thing about the whole case is that whatever sick person ran this lady over, they took the time to take off her shoes and steal them.”

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Beth rounded on the basement doorway, flashlight in hand.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

She reached her finger forward toward the ON switch of the flashlight, stepping forward toward the staircase.

And she misstepped.

Beth tumbled down the stairs, down into the darkness, landing with a crack on the concrete floor. Searing pain screamed through her fractured skull as she lay helpless at the bottom of the staircase.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

It ran right by her, constant yet unsteady.

POP.

The overhead light bulb snapped on, flooding the basement with such immense light that it temporarily blinded Beth.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Unable to turn her head, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the light above her, straining her eyeballs to the right to see what ran by her.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

From the corner of her eye she saw Mitch, crouched over, arms down by his sides, running from one dark corner of the basement to the other, bouncing with an unsteady gate. His hair fell over his face, obscuring all except his mouth which was slightly open and emitting a raggedy breath as he ran.

Then she noticed them. The feminine running shoes covered in blood jammed as far as they could go onto Mitch’s feet. His heels pressed down the back of the shoe, hanging off ever so slightly.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Mitch continued to run back and forth past her as the tunnel of unconsciousness enveloped her…

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Until Beth’s eyes glazed over and everything went black.

And still Mitch continued to run.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.