Terror, Part 2

“It would be so easy for someone to shut and wire the gate across our road leading to the highway. Then what would you do? Tell you what. If that ever happens, get on that horn and I'll run down there to help.” I agreed, thinking to myself how ridiculous the whole scenario was and as I left for work I noticed he again had that strange excitement and his eyes were still glowing with that strange light that I had come to dread.

A few weeks passed, and I had forgotten about his ‘prediction.’ Then, on my way to work that night, my headlights picked up something that made my blood run cold. The gate was closed and wired shut, completely blocking my passage!

Terror stricken, I slammed on the brakes and frantically blowing my horn, quickly put the car into reverse. I gunned the engine and as the car went backward, it became entangled in the barbed wire fence that ran along the roadside. Desperately trying to turn around, I tried to go forward to untangle but the wheels would only spin.

I was trapped! I could feel the fear in my throat, choking me so that I could barely breathe. Only a few seconds had passed but it seemed like an eternity. Peering out the window, I could see there was not a soul in sight. There was no man beating on the car window, trying to force his way in to rape me as had been suggested. As my panic subsided, I was able to think with some clarity, and I recognized the plot that my mad husband had woven around me …

Then I saw him! My husband! Dressed only in his skivvies, and running toward the car as if all the demons of hell were after him. He was shouting and waving his hands wildly. Then the headlights caught a gleam on something clutched in his right hand. It was a machete!

He appeared at the driver’s window, slashing wildly at it, and as he reached in and unlocked the door, I cowered back against the opposite door, desperately trying to reach the door handle behind me.

My husband, this madman, his eyes blazing with that eerie brightness, was looking at me, not in a steady gaze but in glances darting from side to side. As he raised the machete with both arms, I started screaming and he paused and looked straight into my eyes. In bewilderment, it seemed to me.

Then stepping back and making a wailing sound that still sends chills up my spine, he ran on down the road, and into the night. That was the last I ever saw of him.

As for the rest, you know as much as I. It's all there, in newspapers and police reports and magazines. They know what happened during the remainder of his life, that ended that night, better than I."