Wrong Turn

By Sharon Hart Addy, Sharon L. Cook, Kelley Ernst and 19 more

It's dark...

You're tired. Not thinking straight. It's the worst time of all for you to make decisions, and maybe that's why you take a… WRONG  TURN.

In this new anthology offered by Blunder Woman Productions, you'll take a trip down twisty roads into forests, back alleys, and even across the border between life and death. Together these tales are funny, creepy, weird, contemplative, traditional, and speculative. This is a perfect collection for dark nights when the wind is howling and you're curled up in front of a crackling fire, or listening to while you're taking a long walk. The characters in these stories might take a wrong turn, but it's the right move for any fan of thrillers and mysteries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blunder Woman Productions
• Release date: Nov 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732733732

Book preview

Wrong Turn

Wrong Turn

Edited by

Tanya Eby

Blunder Woman Productions

Contents

Note From The Editor

Foreword

Detour

A Rum Turn

What Happened to Mathwig

Package Handed Directly to Resident

The Big Favor

Harpeth Hollow

The Love Nest

He Had a Bad Day

Cognitive Dissonance

Fairy Dusted

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

All That the Case Is

Beware The Sluagh

Traffic

Woodlands

Double Take

Report Card

On A Dark, Rainy Night

Hoodoos in the Twilight

Endings

Ghouls, Ghosts And Murderers

Hot Under The Collar

About The Authors

Also From Blunder Woman Productions

Note From The Editor

I take lots of walks. It’s good for me because I’m pretty much a nervous person all the time, and a walk gives me a chance to chill out. It also gives me a chance to brainstorm.

I’d been thinking about an anthology of mystery/thriller stories for a couple of years. It was something I kept circling back to because mysteries and thrillers are my favorite genre of literature, but I just couldn’t come up with a pitch that would be interesting enough for writers. Saying Send me a mystery/thriller story is fine, but it’s just not inspiring. What would be a cool theme that writers could have fun with? What’s a piece I’d want to listen to or read?

So on one of my many walks, it finally hit me. It was kind of foggy out, dark, moody. And I just thought, I’m glad I know my way around. It’d be easy to take a wrong turn and get lost. And that was it. I knew the theme.

Wrong Turn can be so many things. It can be literal: you get lost, you end up somewhere unexpected. But it can also be metaphorical: you can make really bad decisions. Wrong Turn can also be spiritual. It can be dark, mysterious, scary, and alluring. Most of all, a Wrong Turn can be interesting. It’s a certain path to adventure, traveling somewhere you never expected to.

You can read or listen to these stories all in a row, like bingeing in literary form. Or you can do what I like to do: I sparse the stories out. Read one here and there. I listen to a story in between other audiobooks. I read short stories when I have a novel hangover and need something to bridge the gap. And sometimes a story doesn’t work for me in a certain moment, so I skip to the next one. Then that same skipped story, at another moment, becomes just the right one.

I hope these stories will take you somewhere unexpected. Maybe the characters have taken a Wrong Turn in their lives, but it certainly puts the reader on the right track to be entertained.

Cheers,

Tanya Eby

Foreword

This anthology features twenty-two stories of people whose lives veered in an unexpected direction.

Twenty-two tales of those who accidentally stepped off the path and ventured into the dark woods of the unexpected. Where anything is possible.

Take comfort that these are not people like you. They weren’t fortunate enough to stare at the darkness from behind the safety of the curtain. They wandered into it unknowingly, and by then, it was already too late.

Each of the stories contained in this volume were hand selected by Tanya Eby, an editor and publisher of great taste and distinction. Allow me, then, to submit one more.

My story is about you.

You are a good person. Thoughtful. Generous. You live and practice the idea that if you are kind to others, they will be kind to you. No matter what, they always will be.

You have secrets. Of course you do. Private things you’d be terrified for anyone to find out. Things you dream of, or desire, but ultimately, that seem harmless. They’re just ideas, after all. Ephemeral playthings you keep locked away in a secret room inside your mind, where no one else can see. Best of all, no one will ever find out.

The world around you is completely normal. Take comfort in that. Everything in your life is in its proper place, and all is well. You are fine. There’s nothing to worry about. You are perfectly, completely, safe.

Do you believe me?

I suspect not. I suspect that you have spent enough time peering past the curtain to know that the monster is always waiting, always hungry, and that it preys on fools who pretend it doesn’t exist.

People often ask me what I think is scary. They expect the usual responses. Clowns. Sharks. Heights. Snakes. That’s all child’s play.

True terror comes from the sudden intrusion of the unknown into your normal, everyday life.

You walk into to the bathroom to take a shower. As you lift off your shirt, you realize there is a lump in your armpit that wasn’t there the day before. You touch it, and it’s painful and sore. Throughout the day, you keep checking for it. It’s still there, and it is growing.

Or, while sitting on your couch at night, you hear something brush against the front door. The doorknob turns. The door is locked, but someone is twisting the knob back and forth. Hello? you call out to whoever is on the other side. They wrench the doorknob harder, shaking it back and forth, rattling the entire doorframe. They slam themselves against the door, trying to force their way in.

Or, you are doing the dishes and look up through your kitchen window to see a strange man staring back at you. He is standing by the children’s swing set in the back yard. You know you left the children playing together in the upstairs bedroom while you went downstairs to clean. As the man stares at you, he grins, and you realize you haven’t heard any sounds coming from upstairs for a while.

These things are truly terrifying, but you are far too sophisticated to be scared by any story.

You read books like this to take measure of what lies beyond. To draw a map of the dark places, so that if you ever find yourself in one, you will know your way around. So that if, by chance, your life ever takes a wrong turn, you will know exactly what to do.

It’s harmless and fun, isn’t it? A little thrill. A little chill. You’ll close this book, content that everything is in its proper place and all is well. You are fine. There’s nothing to worry about. You are perfectly, completely, safe.

Of course, if this were a story about you, I would warn you about journeying too deeply into the darkness. It can see you peeking, even from behind the curtain, and know your scent.

Beware it doesn’t follow you home.

– Bernard Schaffer

Author of the Santero and Rein Thriller series, available from Kensington Publishing.

Website | Kensington Books

Detour

Chris Martin

Dad, I think I’m lost.

I barely heard Laura’s voice over the road noise and stereo. We had been driving all day since our departure from my parent’s house in Alabama, earlier that morning. Our goal was to reach Arizona by noon the following day. Prior to my nap, we had already passed through Mississippi and Louisiana.

Where are we sweetie? I stirred from my nap and adjusted my seat. When I raised my eyes to the windshield, I saw only a dark, barren field.

Stop the car sweetie. Laura did as I asked and put the car in park. I opened the passenger door and stepped outside.

"Well, we were in El Paso. There’s major construction on the I-10. I was certain that I followed the correct detour signs… She slapped the steering wheel in frustration. Now we’re out here in the middle of nowhere." Laura’s voice strained from the unshed tears born out of fear that had crept into her mind.

I’ve turned around four times and have backtracked quite some distance…

Wait…What? It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, I could make out the shapes of the cacti and scrub bushes that typically dot the southwest Texas terrain.

Honey, how long ago did you leave city limits?

Dad, I honestly feel like I’m driving in circles. I drove for five miles before turning around to backtrack. I’ve put forty miles, or more, on our trip since the last time I saw a streetlamp.

The high beams shone out into the night sky, but don’t really illuminate anything of importance. I opened the passenger door and stepped outside. I am buffeted by a bone-chilling gust. However, aside from the wind, there is no background noise from the city, no noise of traffic rushing down the interstate.

Just wind.

Our family kept a survival pack in the back of our SUV. Just basic stuff, really. Road flares, a flashlight, and a full first-aid kit kept within a nice duffel bag. I reached in and pulled the flashlight out and switched it on. I passed the beam, slowly, across the horizon. A fog had begun to form.

The fog slowly thickened, eventually filling the horizon in all directions.

Strangely, it didn’t encroach upon us, but kept a distance.

Dad, Laura had gotten out and joined me. Her voice was shaking, tears running down her cheeks, what are we gonna do?

Everything about this felt wrong, but I didn’t want Laura any more worked up than she already was. She was normally the calm one. I took her in my arms and hugged her close.

We’ll be ok. I want you to switch places with me for a while. Get some rest. You’ve been driving since what…Tyler?

She nodded, wiping at her cheeks. Definitely my turn to take the wheel back. I want you to get some sleep. I led her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She climbed in and began adjusting her seat as I shut her in.

The fog persisted to hold a place in my mind. I stared out in the distance, my flashlight aiming at the milky grey clouds. That shiver you get up your spine when something feels odd? I had that.

I climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. The flashlight was switched off and slid into the pocket behind the passenger seat. Laura retrieved a throw blanket from the back seat and made herself as comfortable as possible. The gauges on the instrument panel all showed normal and we had three quarters of a tank in gas. Putting our Chevy Tahoe in reverse, I perform a three-point-turn until I’m faced in the opposite direction.

The moon and stars were hidden behind the veil of fog. I couldn’t tell north from south or east from west. My only light was supplied solely by the high beams. After putting the Tahoe in drive, I pulled off in our new direction. I set us on our way at a slow pace at first.

We rode in silence for several minutes, until the lack of sound was overbearing. Laura was thumbing through her phone trying to find something to listen to with no luck. I switched on the radio and instantly heard static. I tried all of the preset stations. Static. Even the Mexican based stations were dead.

What gives? Anything on the cell phone, Laura?

Nope, my cell has no bars. Can I check yours?

Sure. She takes mine and it too had no signal.

"What’s going on Dad? Where are we? Shouldn’t there be some signal, even if it’s a weak one?" Laura’s frustration was boiling over.

I don’t know sweetie. I don’t know. I had no answers for her.

Left with no other options but driving, I focused on that. Our path was the same. There was no road, only a dirt path in the desert. No markers, no lights; just the same cacti and the typical scrub brush that dotted the landscape.

I gradually applied more pressure to the accelerator, increasing our speed.

Laura, why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll wake you when we get back to the city.

Are you okay to drive?

I’m fine. I slept through most of Texas. Besides, I’m too on edge to sleep. Get some rest. I gave her a loving squeeze on the knee.

She turned in her seat to reach for her pillow. We should stop at a hotel and get some actual rest after we find our way back to civilization.

Yeah, you’re right. I’ll wake you as soon as we get back into town.

Once Laura was settled, I accelerated until the speedometer read 55mph. I set the cruise control and coasted along.

The clock in the dash read ten o’clock PM. There had been no change in scenery for over an hour. Doubt was building over Laura’s declarations that she had only traveled five miles off course. I increased my speed to 65 mph and re-set the cruise control. The ride was surprisingly smooth considering we were traveling on an unmarked dirt path in the desert. I sat back, relaxed, and steered, while the engine did all the work.

Midnight.

I accelerated to 75 mph about an hour ago and we were still on the same dirt path. Why I was still concerning myself with traffic laws is beyond me. There hasn’t been a single speed limit, mile marker, or any other sign since I started driving.

It didn’t feel right at all. It felt like we should’ve returned to pavement long ago. We weren’t going in circles; the steering wheel hasn’t moved enough. That much I knew.

Are we there yet? Laura giggled as she changed her position.

I laughed in response but didn’t bother with a reply as she had already fallen back to sleep.

Two A.M. My patience worn thin, I switched the cruise control off and put the pedal to the floor. The speedometer climbed past 80, 90, 100 mph. I had expected to see a cloud of dust rising behind us as I glanced in the rearview mirror. Nothing. Black sky and the faint afterglow of the red taillights were all that was visible from that angle.

Looking ahead, nothing had changed. I pushed the engine harder, forcing the needle higher on the speedometer.

The hours ticked by with no change. No change except the gas tank, which had slowly drained. My frustration gave way to anger. It was strange though, how Laura hadn’t so much as moved in the past few hours. I haven’t heard a word from her since she asked, ‘Are we there yet?’

Gently, I laid my hand on her shoulder to check if she was breathing. It felt morbid to be thinking that way, but I couldn’t help it. Everything felt off.

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Her shoulders moved with the rise and fall of her lungs working. She was breathing slowly, but deep. Satisfied I continued onward.

Time continued to pass. It was now seven o’clock in the morning. The sun had yet to appear. The sky was still as black as it had been. No change whatsoever.

The SUV decelerated. I looked at the gas gauge and saw the needle dropping to E. The engine sputtered as the speedometer needle dropped past 80, 70, 60, and lower. Finally, the engine coughed its last breath and died. Our forward momentum carried us several yards before we came to a halt.

Laura woke up right then. What’s wrong? Why have we stopped?

We’re out of gas and still lost. I don’t know where we are. It’s still pitch black. What in the HELL is going on?! I pounded on the steering wheel with closed fists.

Well let’s get something to eat and come up with a plan. Laura’s nap had returned her usually calming manner. She’d always been that way. Anytime I get riled up, she answered my anger with calmness and something to take my mind off the source.

Laura’s suggestion made sense. We climbed out of the vehicle, opened the back door, and pulled out our cooler full of sandwiches, snacks, and drinks. We retrieved what we wanted, sat on the open trunk, and enjoyed our break in silence.

It was during our break that we noticed the strange fog, again, out in the distance. As black as it is here, we shouldn’t have been able to see it, but there it was. Greyish-white, thicker than before, and looming on the edge of our field of vision.

I’m cold, Laura grabbed her throw-blanket from the front and wrapped herself in it.

I’ll try to build a fire. Our heater won’t work too well without the engine running. Besides, it’ll drain the battery quicker putting us in more of predicament than we already are.

‘What am I gonna use for the fire?’

First, I searched for a few stones to build a fire pit. Once constructed, I sought out any dried brush or other combustible items. My quest was short lived as there were plenty of small, dried, dead bushes dotting the landscape. I took all I could carry and returned. Grabbing any papers or magazines from the SUV, I twisted and tore them before placing them in the center of the stone ring. After stacking the broken limbs and brush on top, I dug out a flare from the emergency kit and lit it.

As Laura warmed herself by the fire, I closed the doors to the front of the vehicle and shut off the SUV, killing the lights. I pulled our luggage and cooler from the back and lay the rear seats down.

Laura honey, I’m going to push the truck closer to the fire. Can you spot me? Laura nodded and stood on the opposite side of the impromptu campsite.

I leaned in behind the driver seat and turned the key over without starting the engine. The dashboard lit up immediately. I placed the Tahoe in neutral and held the steering wheel steady as I pushed the vehicle closer to the fire. Satisfied with its new positioning, I put it in park, switched it off, and closed it back up.

Laura, why don’t you lie down in the back. Get some rest. You don’t look so well, darlin.

I don’t feel well, honestly. She climbed into the back and stretched out with her pillow and blanket.

I’m going for more fuel for the fire and maybe set off another flare before turning in myself. She waved in response as I walked away.

I walked away from our campsite, flashlight in hand. Periodically I would stumble upon a fallen Joshua tree and collect the branches. Soon I held an arm load and carried it back. After stoking the fire, I added the new pieces. It occurred to me to set off a couple more flares. After retrieving them from the Tahoe, I walked a few paces ahead of the vehicle then struck and dropped one of them. I repeated the process several yards ahead of the first one. I decided to do the same in the opposite direction. After a few minutes had passed there were four flares burning in either direction of our vehicle, plus the campfire. Someone had to see us.

I returned to the campfire and attempted to get comfortable. I was failing miserably. However, as I stared at the fire, my eyes did grow heavy. As my eyelids drooped, I caught movement off in the distance. I was too exhausted to investigate and was comforted by the fire’s ability to keep any would-be predators at bay.

I relented and fell asleep.

I was awakened by the lack of warmth and noticed the fire had gone dim. Lazily, I reached over to toss a few more pieces of wood, on. I stoked the fire with another limb and sat up. Insured I had breathed renewed life into the flames, I rose to check on Laura. She wasn’t in the SUV.

Laura? I called out to her. No answer. LAURA?! Louder this time, but still no answer.

I grabbed the flashlight from the Tahoe, clicked it on, and shone the beam across the field around me. I slowly stepped to the front, gradually passing it over everything. Circling back around to the rear of the vehicle, I spotted her in the distance. She was out near the fog, staring at it. Her head tilted to the side as if in a trance. In a panic I rushed out to her.

LAURA!! I called out to her as I ran. Her head jerked upright as I drew closer.

They’re talking to me Daddy. They’re calling to me. Her voice was distant as if she weren’t actually standing there.

Who is? Who’s calling to you, baby? I approached her with caution, afraid of what was happening.

Mama, RJ, and there are nurses and doctors, too. Laura is sounding like her younger self. Sweetie, your mom and RJ are in Flagstaff for the weekend. We’re supposed to meet them in Sedona, remember? None of this made any sense. I thought, perhaps, she was just ill.

I know, Daddy, but they’re all right there. Calling me to go with them. They sound upset.

The fog had spread along the ground at our feet. Ahead of where Laura was gazing, it had grown thicker. Almost tangible. It spread out towards Laura as if trying to envelope her.

Laura, come away from there, please. I was getting frantic. My heart raced with panic. Come back to the fire with me baby. I tried pulling her away, but it was improbably difficult. I took her by the hand and pulled. It was like trying to move a mountain.

She raised her hands up as though she were reaching for someone. It reminded me of when she was a little girl. She would reach for me when she was tired, cranky, and wanting to be held. It would have been sweet had it not been for the feeling of dread accompanied by the fog.

Large misty hands formed from the fog and reached out for my daughter. Not knowing what else to do, I wrapped my arms around her waist and tried to lift her. ‘I’ll just carry her back if I have to.’ Except she didn’t budge. I considered myself a strong man but trying to lift my 5’9", 130-pound daughter, just then seemed impossible.

The ghostly hands had arms. They took hold of Laura’s hands and pulled. I dug my feet into the ground, refusing to let her go. I was powerless. The hands drug us both across the ground, my feet leaving rows in the dirt.

NO! LAURA, DON’T GO! I could no longer hold back the tears. My daughter was being taken and I was powerless to fight against it. Whatever IT was.

Daddy, I need to go with them. They say we need help. She sounded so certain of it all.

Who says that, Laura? Stay with me, I’ll keep you safe. I promise. My feet still drug the ground. I let go and reached for rocks to throw, limbs to batter with…everything passed through with no affect.

Laura, please stay. I cried at her waist, still struggling to hold onto her. Come back to the truck with me! The fire will keep us warm and safe and when the sun rises we’ll find our way home. I promise. Just stay!

Her feet suddenly left the ground and I lost my grip on her. Daddy, go with them, it will be ok.

LAURA!! I screamed my voice raw. Tears continued falling as I sat in the dirt looking about for an answer to what just happened. Nothing stood out.

Rick? Rick honey, wake up. The fog circled around me now.

Rick, please.

Deb? My wife’s voice called out to me. There were other voices in the background. Voices I didn’t recognize.

Prep the OR. The girl needs immediate surgery.

Where did you take my daughter?!

Dad? Dad, can you hear me? We need you Dad.

RJ? None of this made any sense. My family was nowhere near here. My wife and son were in Flagstaff or on their way to Sedona. Why…How was I hearing them?

The same arms that took Laura were now back for me. I ran for the Tahoe. All around me the fog grew and thickened. More arms came to collect me.

After reaching the SUV, I searched for a weapon. I found a hatchet and a tire iron, but I wasn’t sure what good those would be. After all, stones and limbs passed right through them. Nothing physical seemed to be of any use against…fog…But they made me feel better.

The voices rose in volume and intensity as the fog drew closer. I heard my wife and son calling out to me with the same panic I had for Laura. The other voices were louder, too. Those were the voices that really bothered me. I recognized none of them.

We’re losing him.

Rick?! Don’t leave us! My wife cried.

Dad!! RJ called out to me.

The fog closed in on me, forcing me to retreat into the Tahoe. I closed the doors as I entered. Frantic, I scurried around the interior like a wild animal, trapped in a cage.

"What happens now? I asked out loud, not realizing I had done so.

My answer came quickly as the fog worked its way inside the cabin. My hair stood on end. I felt an electric charge to the air.

CLEAR! I heard one of the unfamiliar voices shout over them all. Blue arcs of electricity surged around me, and my vision went dark.

When I woke up, my eyes opened to a hospital room. I was in a bed with a tube down my throat. Both of my legs in casts and my ribs ached. My wife and son were there, and they rushed to my side.

My wife was a perfect example of relieved hysterics. You and Laura were involved in a bad wreck in El Paso. Laura’s in surgery. We almost… She choked on the last of her words as she broke down in tears and sobbed uncontrollably on my shoulder. Nurses and a pair of doctors entered the room to remove my tubes. RJ squeezed the hand that was free of IV ports and pulled his mother back while the nurses did their jobs. The older looking doctor viewed what appeared to be my chart while her assistant gave aid with the tube extraction.

Your daughter’s going to make it Mr. McMaerten. But, you’ll both require a great deal of physical therapy.

As the doctor continued with her report, the nurses removed my tubes. My mind flashed back to our accident. Laura wasn’t even driving at the time. I had been.

We had indeed gotten lost passing through El Paso. But that isn’t where our accident took place. I had taken over driving when Laura became lost. I drove for another hour without incident. We found our way out of El Paso and had even crossed over into New Mexico. I fell asleep between El Paso and Las Cruces.

The tubes being pulled from my throat left my chest sore and my throat worse. While I lay there remembering the accident, a vague image passed through my mind. I had swerved to miss hitting something. I did indeed fall asleep. However, when I jerked myself awake, something had darted across the highway in front of us. I swerved to miss it, instead plowing head-on into an oncoming pickup.

Black eyes that reflected my headlights back at me. Black skin stretched across a gaunt figure that loped on grotesquely long legs. A strange tail that thrashed back and forth in agitation. A triple hinged jaw opened to reveal several rows of sharp, black teeth. Why was I remembering this creature?

My wife and son were outside the room now, speaking to what appeared to be a police officer or state trooper. There was another man in a black suit standing with them, taking notes.

Was… I coughed uncontrollably for a moment. Was anyone else hurt? The coughing fit returned.

There was another motorist involved. The physician’s assistant handed me a napkin and a small cup of cool water. They were hurt pretty badly as well. He and his wife are still in a coma.

I was saddened and regretful to hear that, certainly. But the image of that creature persists.

I reached out to catch the PA before he turned to leave. Do you know if there was anything strange mentioned about the accident?

I’m afraid that’s for the police to share, sir. I don’t really know any of that. I released his hand for him to leave.

My wife and son stepped in the room followed by the trooper and the suit. Mr. McMaerten, we have some questions we’d like to ask you concerning your accident if you don’t mind.

The trooper was polite and middle aged. His counterpart was stoic and young looking. His badge suggested that he was with the Department of Homeland Security.

We promise not to keep you, sir. The suit’s voice was flat, cold, and gave the impression that he didn’t play games.

My voice was raspy and rattled when I responded. I have a few questions of my own, but I’ll try to help as much as possible.

---

THE END

A Rum Turn

Michele Reed

Cecelia was shrieking, Adele was singing, I was praying. My knuckles were white as I gripped the Saab’s steering wheel, squinting through the tiny patch of clear windshield the defroster had struggled to clear. It was a typical lake effect storm.

I shushed the baby, ignored the radio