Warp Asylum

[The following is fiction.]

"Are you okay?"

I was vaguely aware that somebody was speaking, but in my confusion I assumed I had imagined it.  Without opening my eyes, I shook my head, trying to clear some of the cobwebs. 

"Sir? Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes and immediately regretted doing so.  I clamped them shut against the bright light that was suddenly shining into them.  I tried to speak, but only managed a raspy groan before a fit of coughing overtook me.

"Sir," the voice came again, "Do you know where you are?  Are you aware you were in an accident?"

That’s right… I was driving.  I remembered looking down at the controls of my stereo, then nothing until hearing this person’s voice.  I opened my eyes again, cautiously, but the light was gone, replaced by the unshaven face of a middle-aged man framed by a background of night.  His several-day old growth had a lot of gray in it, as did his shaggy hair.  He smiled weakly when I looked at him.

"Good," he said, "I think you’re going to be okay.  I saw the whole thing– the car that hit you is over there."  I looked where he pointed and saw a late-model sports-car, the hood and fenders twisted in an angle that would have made Picasso proud. 

"I already checked the other driver," said the man, "but I don’t think he’s going to make it.  I don’t have a phone or anything, do you have one?"  I shook my head to indicate that I did not and tried to stand.  The passenger side of my old sedan was caved in, the door opposite mine nearly touching my seat.  There was glass everywhere, and I was afraid to look at the right side of my body.  I was surprised to find that I was mostly unharmed; a small cut on my right shoulder and a tingling sensation in the entire arm was all I could find.  My shirt, however, was ruined by blood and glass, so I removed it and stood in the road in my white undershirt. 

"Sir, if you want," the other man was saying, "you can get in my truck and we’ll drive somewhere with a phone so we can call the–"  His words were cut short by the sound of wrenching metal and the tinkle of broken glass hitting the pavement.  The man lifted the flashlight he must have been shining into my face moments before and pointed it at the sports-car.  The driver’s door had been opened, and the driver himself staggered shakily from the wreckage.  As the light raised to illuminate his face, what I saw turned my stomach.  A large shard of glass protruded sickeningly from his neck, and his nose was smashed unnaturally against his left cheekbone. 

"Oh my lord…" the older man said as he moved toward the driver of the wrecked coupe.  "Sir, I don’t think you should try to stand, why don’t you have a seat on the grass over there, I’m sure help will be here soon."  The wounded man paid no attention, only kept walking toward the man with the flashlight.  Then, suddenly, he lunged, grabbing the man about the shoulders, knocking him to the road.  The flashlight skittered toward my feet as the man lost his grip, and came to rest with the beam pointed toward the two.  I saw a splash of blood and heard a terrible scream as the man from the wrecked car tore at the other man’s throat with his teeth.  I backed away in horror and disgust, then turned and ran.  It was "fight or flight" solidly at work.  I didn’t stop to wonder what was happening, nor did I try to help.  I had seen what happened to the last person who did either of those things, and by the time I stopped to breathe I couldn’t even see the beams of my car’s headlights anymore. 

I thought back to the final minutes of my drive.  I hadn’t seen anything but road and fields for miles.  Just as I began to wonder exactly what I should do, I heard a low moan in the darkness, not like any animal I’d ever heard, but not quite human either.  What the hell was I going to do….

I hope everyone enjoyed my little cliffhanger.  Have a pleasant evening.