Summer 1978: Mom was asleep on the couch, a not uncommon sight especially on Saturday nights when my stepfather was tending bar. Returning from work I was sprawled out on the living floor, watching Elvira host an evening of campy horror movies.
My attention wavered as my eyes grew heavy I was just about to head for bed when my stepfather walked in. It took all my resolve to swallow the scream I felt building to a crescendo. The entire front of his shirt was covered in blood, which at first glance appeared to be flowing from his mouth and/or chin. My primary concern was that there had been some type of altercation at the reception he was working. Despite the “joy” of these events fights were known to occur even a stabbing or two had occurred in alcohol fueled jealous rages. Mom always worried when he worked weddings. As I recovered from my initial shock I thought to myself mom had been right.
I woke up my mother, which is a task unto itself. She was and still is a heavy sleeper. When she became aware of something having happened to Jay (my step dad) she abandoned dream world in a flash.
In a Superwoman like moment she leapt from the couch and flew to his side. She took him in her arms searching his torso for a knife wound or something worse. Failing to find any obvious trauma gave him a questioning look.
“The wedding,” he explained, “was one of the most peaceful in recent memory.”
The problem it turned out was the drive home he fell asleep behind the wheel missing the final curve running into a hundred year old oak. He had walked the short distance home to call the police and have mom take him to the hospital. His lower lip was bitten clean through the copious amount of blood was a side effect of the coumadin, a blood thinner he was taking for his bad heart.
Taking charge mom hustled him to the car asking me to come along. She wanted to head straight to the hospital and my job was to wait with the car for the police to arrive.
Driving down our street we came across a patrol car, searchlight on checking bushes and the gutter. Obviously they were in the process of searching for the person or persons who had been involved in the accident. Pulling along aside mom explained the situation and requested that someone meet them at the hospital for the details and that I was going to wait with the car.
Jay’s car had been a brand new white Cadillac with red leather upholstery. No longer, the car had run into the tree front end first. Even my untrained eye could see that it was totaled. The oak tree though made it through the accident with nothing more than a small scar.
From the appearance of the car Jay was lucky to walk away under his own power. The police officers arrived and took down what little details I could provide. A tow truck was requested and we were informed that it would be a half hour or so before it arrived. Assuring them that I would be just fine they moved on to the hospital in order to complete their report.
Which left me sitting on the hood of the car waiting for the tow truck. The night was chilly not expecting to go back out I was only wearing a t-shirt. In order to create some body heat I began pacing the area around the car.
Being alone on a moonless night I found myself jumping at every creaking branch creak or hooting owl. My imagination began creating untold dangers hidden in the brush biding its time before devouring my soul.
As fate would have it I was facing more danger than even I could imagine.
Ten minutes after the police pulled away a rather plain sedan pulled up with a single man behind the wheel. I was never a big believer in the paranormal but my sixth sense began buzzing the moment I laid eyes on him. My mind was screaming trouble but my eyes saw normal, average everyday.
He was dressed in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and tennis shoes. His was clean-shaven. His eyes though appeared to be black holes, a bottomless abyss where even Stephen King’s imagination feared to tread. Before a word was exchanged I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that going anywhere with him would be my final trip.
Upon his approach I moved doing my utmost best to keep the Cadillac between us.
Eyeing me he expressed some sort of trumped up concern asking if I need assistance.
I explained that my stepfather was the driver that he was with my mother at the hospital. The police and a tow truck would arrive momentarily.
He commented on my appearing cold inviting me to wait with him in his car. Thinking fast I told him that I wasn't cold just worried about my step dads condition.
Yet again he offered the warmth of his car and once again I turned him down. By now I was wondering where in the hell was the tow truck, and hoping to God that he was not on a coffee break.
I tried kept on keeping the distance between us, which was becoming difficult as he made a slow approach without being obvious.
Abruptly changing tactic he mentioned that he was hungry asking me to join him for breakfast once the details were taken care of. Of course I told him the last thing on my mind was food worry about my step dad and his condition was all that was on my mind. Apparently no was not part of his vocabulary, he just would not take it for an answer. He persisted in attempting to convince me to join him, while I kept walking away and praying for someone, anyone to drive by.
The longer he hung around the more my senses buzzed warning me that my very existence was in danger. Time was running short it would not be much longer before he made a move. I needed to formulate a plan that involved more than walking around the car.
Just as panic began to ensue I was granted a miracle. The tow truck arrived driven by someone who appeared to spend all of his free time lifting weights. Even his muscles had muscles.
My stalker took one look at him and knew whatever small chance there may have been had just gone up in smoke. He made one final halfhearted effort to lure me away with him seeing my newfound resolve he climbed into his car and drove away.
Not knowing if he was gone or lurking around some dark and sinister corner I chatted up the driver asking him if he could provide me with a ride home. It was not a long walk but I was not about to make it alone.
My request proved unnecessary though just as he finished hooking up the car my parents returned from the ER.
I was never more thankful to see anyone in my life.
To this day I have wondered about that guy. In the 70's no one really talked about serial killers and child molesters. Knowing what I know now I am convinced that I was lucky to get away with my life.
Original Post April 2004
5 years ago
