Gas Mask

It was a rainy evening. Dark clouds covered the sky, blocking out any hope for sunlight. The sky water poured down by the buckets, loudly punching the windshield as if it needed to break the glass and drown us. My husband and I were driving home after a nice dinner. It had been a while since we've had one as a family. My thirteen-year-old son, Nico, sat in the back seat behind his father. He was playing his Nintendo DS, seeming oblivious to the rain beating down on the pickup truck. "Lee, slow down. That man is walking in the storm..." I frowned and pointed to a man walking along the street, soaked as could be. I felt sorry for him. Nobody deserved to be walking in conditions like this, especially on a highway with no roof in sight. "Stop up there. We should take him home, or at least to some place where he wont be rained on." My husband, Lee, glanced at me quick before returning his view to the road. "Jessica, you know I don't like hitchhikers. There's no good that can come from them." "There's a gas station maybe five miles along. We'll drop him off there so he can call someone to pick him up." He sighed, flipping on the blinker to pull over. I unbuckled and reached for my coat and pulled it on, pulling the hood up over my head. When the truck stopped, I took the umbrella from the glove box and opened it up as I stepped down and into the rushing water. Now I really felt sorry for him; the rain was ice cold. "Sir? Sir!" I quickly walked towards him. He wore a dark brown trench coat, the rain painting it darker. His brown hair had dropped over his face. His backpack had a steady stream of water falling from it; everything in it must be soaked. "Do you need a ride to some shelter? Home?" The man hesitated before spilling his answer. "Yes, ma'am. That would be wonderful. I thank you with my full heart." I guided him to the truck and opened the back door. He climbed in, sitting beside my dear Nico. He wouldn't mind. I wouldn't be surprised if Nico never noticed this man. I hauled myself back into my seat, taking off my jacket and closing the umbrella. It was a relief to be back in here. "So, what's your name?" Lee was unamused, and obviously untrusting. "My name is Joey. Joey Vicson. I thank you for your help. I've been walking out there for about two hours. My car broke down way back, and I don't have my phone on me. I was hoping to get to a pay phone or a mechanic." He set his bag on the floor. "Hello Joey," I began, "I am Jessica, my husband is Lee, and that's our son Nico beside you." It felt nice to help somebody. Several minutes passed in lack of conversation, the radio playing the only noise other than the still stern precipitation. The sound of him unzipping his backpack soon reached my eardrums. "What is that? What are you doing?" Nico's voice seemed concerned, so I looked back. Joey had put on a gas mask and he pulled out a can, spraying something at Nico...    "Joey, what are you doing-?!" He unbuckled and reached forward, spraying me and Lee with the gas. I held my breath, but Lee and Nico didn't. Nico was asleep- I hope it was only asleep- and Lee passed out on the steering wheel. The truck swerved as Lee's body tried to fall off the wheel. The hitchhiker unbuckled Lee and pushed him on top of me. I laid still, hoping not to alarm him. Joey had sat in the driver's seat, slammed on the gas pedal, and drove. I pulled my shirt over my nose and took silent, shallow breaths, my vision blurring and hearing becoming distant. Everything went black. Every part of me was in pain. I opened my eyes to find myself sprawled in the bed of the truck. It was dark and it had stopped raining. The vehicle was parked somewhere, and the only light I saw came from inside the truck. Senses came to me, and I felt myself lying in a warm and thick liquid. Taking a sniff, I smelled the strong scent of blood. My family, what was happening to my family? I tried my best to sit up, arms shaking, body heavy. I looked through the window. I saw Lee lying in the back seats and Nico on the dashboard, near falling off. Joey pushed Nico back on. What I saw made me vomit in the pool of blood I sat in. Joey was cutting off Nico's left hand, and sewing Lee's left hand onto my son's wrist. I saw this had gone for several body parts, with my husband, too...    I looked down at myself. This leg was not mine. This finger was not mine. This arm was not mine. My head felt light, and I was still so very tired. I lie back down. A truck door slammed shut. A gas mask looked over me, and he said something. Something I deciphered as "You're perfect now." He left, and I fell asleep for a long, long time.