The Chevy Pickup
Updated: Jan 27
I never worry about much. I wake up, eat a quick breakfast, if you can call it that, and go to work. I always said when I was growing up that I would never work in a factory, because I knew if I did that I would go insane. Well it'll be three years next week and I think my insanity has finally set it. Working the midnight shift hasn't helped.
The meds my doctor prescribed to me didn’t seem to help at all. They always made me feel out of it. Not myself.
There is this truck. Old 70s Chevy pickup. It has been repainted a matte black and I was seeing it everywhere I went. Well maybe not everywhere, but it was starting to feel like it.
I went to Wal-Mart after work one day, it was about 5 am and the place was empty. There were Maybe 15 cars in the parking lot total.
I walked around for a while, enjoying the massive store that felt so abandon. I didn't need a whole lot, but I enjoyed the emptiness. I left the store after about twenty minutes with a few bags of Fritos, some cheese dip, a 12 pack of Mountain dew and a pack of condoms, just in case.
It stuck out like a sore thumb, even at night. The black matte paint should have hidden it in the dark, but for me it's like it had a giant red circle right around it. I made sure to get the license plate number.
Now if that had been the first time, or even the second, I wouldn't think much of it, but it seems like everywhere I've gone in the last week, I've seen it. Including across the street from my house, where it was sitting the night my life changed.
I kept getting up to check if it was still there. And every time I did, I had an odd bit of relief flush over my body, as I think I would be more terrified if it suddenly disappeared.
I wish it was one of my friends messing with me, but I know none of them have this much dedication; plus, they all swear they have nothing to do with it and keep telling me to just confront who ever is in it.
I talked to the cops, or whoever was taking my call, and they told me to not go anywhere and they will have an officer their soon. So, I had to wait. They got there quick. It was 6am in a normally quite city which probably helped.
As I watched out the window I couldn’t tell if the lights flashing into my eyes made me temporarily blind because I couldn't see the truck and it doesn't appear like the cop did either.
A knock at the door occurred only a few minutes later.
"Hello officer." I said.
"Are you the one who called about a black truck outside?"
I nodded, hoping he was going to add some useful information for me like, "We have searching high and low for this guy." But sadly, no.
"Okay, well it looks as if he took off, here take my card, and give me a call directly if you see him again."
I tried to just lay down and relax to keep myself from freaking out and I ended up falling asleep, waking up with a nice kink in my neck. When I woke up, I guess I wasn’t too surprised to see that son of a bitch in the truck was back right where he was.
I wish I had the courage enough to face whoever it was. Ask them what the hell they want. Instead I called the officer from a few hours before.
“Hi, that truck from before, its back.”
It took a bit to long for him to reply, I looked down at my phone to make sure I didn’t drop the call.
“My shift just ended, do you see anyone in it?”
I tried to peer through the darkness of the night and into the truck but couldn’t see inside.
“No, it’s too dark.”
I remembered that I took the plate number and gave it to him in a hurry.
“Ok that will be helpful, I’ll call it in.”
The conversation ended. I sat in my dark room waiting to here back from the officer.
As I started to drift off again, the phone rang.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t get much information.”
"Yeah, not what I was hoping for, but did you find out whose truck it is?"
"Well that's what I wanted to ask you about. Do you know a Caitlin Turner?"
"I'm not sure, it kind of sounds familiar but I’m not sure. Do you have any info on her?" I really hope it isn't some chick I hooked up with that went psycho on me.
"Not a lot, she’s 120 pounds, 23 years old, brown hair, blue eyes and 5’2 according to her driver’s license. I will check more into it, just wanted to see if you knew her, a lot of cases like this it’s someone you know.
“What do you mean by a lot of cases like this?”
“Stalking. It is more common than you would think, mostly harmless.”
I can’t think of why anyone would want to stalk me, all I do is go to work, and come home, occasionally the 5 am shopping trip.
“I’ll let you know when I find something out and if you can think of anything let me know."
"Yeah, thanks, have a good night." I hung up the phone.
After the officer’s words rang in my head, I tried to think back to the last time I hooked up with anyone.
Fuck it's been awhile.
I remember meeting a girl at the bar one night, she seemed nice, but I can't remember what, if anything happened. I had a lot to drink that night and it was over a month before all this started to happen.
After trying to piece it together for a bit, my head began to pound. I needed a drink. Maybe a drink would help me be able to remember or maybe better yet, forget all the crazy shit that was happening.
I chugged what was left of a fifth of Jack Daniels. It didn't help my headache at all, only made it pound harder.
I stumbled up to my room, searching through my drawers for those dumb meds the doctor gave me for my “issues”. As much as I hated how they made me feel, they always were successful at calming me the down.
I searched everywhere, ransacking through my own house but I couldn’t find them, and the headache only continued to worsen. I collapsed to the bathroom floor, the cool tile always helped when I got this way and there they were, between the sink cupboard and the trash can. I crawled over and took all that were left, I just wanted this to end.
As I felt the pills take effect, the storm in my head calmed and I could feel myself going back to normal. I finally sat up off the floor, I needed to confront whoever this girl was or something because I am not going to live my life looking over my shoulder. A shower always helps clear my mind, that’s how I’ll get my plan together. I got up and moved the shower curtain to start the water and there she was, staring at me, the girl from the bar.
I couldn't say anything, even though I was screaming inside. Her skin was rotted, and she smelled like death itself. And it made sense, as she wasn't alive, and hadn’t been for quite some time.
I couldn't move an inch, but my body somehow managed to vomit all over the body lying in front of me. The added smell of vomit made me throw up continuously.
I threw up until it was nothing but air.
I was being forced by my own body to stare and smell at the corpse in front of me. What did I do to deserve this, how did she get there? My mind started racing, flashing memories into my head like an old projector on a wall. Fuck, I killed her.
Why would I do that, it doesn't make sense, but after seeing her body, I can remember every bit of it.
The struggle, the stabbing, and even laying her in my tub, as her blood went down the drain.
How did I not see her before, why just then was this all coming back to me?
My head started pounding again, harder like a vice clamping down on my temples.
It had to be the pills. I stopped taking them because they made me feel like a different person and I hated it.
I must have done this while I was on them. I could never hurt anyone.
The truck started to make sense, I wasn’t being followed, my mind was trying to remind me of what I had done.
The only thing to do now, is figure out what to do with this body. I guess I better get cleaning.