The sun drops behind the tree line and the air begins to chill. The now fading sunset is a watercolor of purples, reds and pinks. The roads are barren as Maggie drives to Geneva’s Market and Deli, the only grocery store in Talky, Michigan. Maggie pulls down Main Street, past the court house and the tiny police station.
Two cars sit in the parking lot of Geneva’s. Maggie parks her car in the rows furthest from the two cars. Her little, old Jimmy is less than presentable, the navy blue paint faded from years of use and there are scratches along the side of the car from accidents. Her car is a hand-me-down from her uncle and has a multitude of problems. The cars seats are permanently stained a dusty brown and the windows no longer open. Driving in the hot summer days and cold winter nights is miserable because the air doesn’t work. Sometimes the driver’s side car door doesn’t work and the back hatch doesn’t lock.
Maggie fiddles with the door handle and is unsuccessful at opening. She decides to crawl out passenger side door. The parking lot is barely lit; the one light in the parking lot flickers and shuts off. Maggie walks quickly through the parking lot using a cheap flashlight on her keys for light until she arrives at the doors of the market. Maggie brushes her long, curly brunette hair away from her face as she pulls a shopping basket from the stack next to the door and walks into the produce section. The cold from the vegetable area sends chills up Maggie's thin tan arms, she rubs her hand along her arm trying to warm the newly formed goose bumps. The employee restocking the vegetables glances at her and gives a weak smile before retuning to her work. Maggie gathers some vegetables and fruits and then scans the market for the toiletries section. The store is miniature and has only one brand of every item so there isn’t much to choose from.
Even though Maggie had come to the market many times before, the store was still so unfamiliar to her. Moving from Chicago to Talky was a big change. Maggie finishes her shopping and goes to the checkout lanes. As the cashier rings her up Maggie scans the few magazines on the racks next to the counter. Gossip was one thing Maggie didn’t miss from the city. Once the cashier was done Maggie places enough money on the counter to cover the cost of her items then leaves the market and walks back through the now almost completely dark parking lot. She attempts to unlock the driver’s side car door and surprisingly it opens. Maggie slides in the car, placing her groceries on the passenger seat. She shimmies the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.
The rusty old car clunks out of the parking lot and pulls back onto Main Street. The street is empty besides a small black truck which is about 100 yards behind Maggie. Maggie starts her journey back to her house which sits on the very edge of town. Her house is tucked back away from the road surrounded by swamps and woodland. Miles of nature separate her house from neighboring houses. Being alone is one of the reasons Maggie moved to Talky, being alone plus the quiet atmosphere.
Maggie pulls off Main Street onto one of the many dirt roads leading away from town. The headlights of the black truck follow as she turns. She continues down the road, her car clunks through the pot holes and dust of the dirt road. A weight in her stomach makes her fidget in her seat as her eyes flicker between the rear view mirror and the road.
The black truck closely trails her car and flashes between its low and high beams. Maggie ignores the truck and continues driving but seconds later the truck beings to honk and trails Maggie's car even closer. Maggie speeds up and changes streets every chance she can, trying to loose the truck in the maze of back roads that Talky consists of. Despite her efforts, the truck stays right on her bumper. Maggie heads for home, if I can get in my driveway and run in my house I can get away. The tires of her car spit out gravel as she speeds down the dirt road. The high beam blinds her as she tries to navigate towards her house. As she approaches her driveway, she doesn’t slow down; she turns quickly in. Her driveway is about a mile and a half long, it twists and turns through the woods, causing the truck to slow.
Maggie's house sits at the top of a small hill. Its tiny blue frame is falling apart. She bought the house from a little old lady whose husband had passed away and she was moving to be closer to her kids in Seattle. Two ladders rest next to the back door from her attempt at fixing the light, one of her many to-do projects, which as usual was unsuccessful. Because the back light didn’t work, Maggie left some light on in the house that now shined out onto the driveway.
Gravel flies out from under the tires as Maggie steers close to the back door then slams on the breaks right before almost colliding with the garage. Maggie’s fingers shake as she frantically fiddles with the door handle trying to get out of the car and into the house before the black truck catches up with her. Her heart stops and sinks into the pit of her stomach, the door won’t budge. Maggie's flings herself into the passenger’s seat, tears falling from her eyes clouding her vision. She pays no attention to the groceries that are now scattered and smashed on the floor of her car. Maggie grabs the door handle and yanks. The car door flings open and Maggie falls onto the gravel driveway. The sharp edges stab into her soft, tan skin, just as the black truck rounds the corner of her house.
Maggie's body freezes and she tries to shimmy under the car, out of reach from the man but is unsuccessful. The truck pulls behind her car and continues honking. Maggie’s stares blankly into the cab of the truck and locks eyes with a young man. He wears a navy blue shirt and leans towards the windshield of his truck hysterically pointing at the back of her car. Maggie glances up the back of her car and meets eye to eye with a bearded man. She stumbles back in disbelief, still staring into his dark, lethal eyes. His face is worn with wrinkles and shaggy untamed hair. Maggie turns on her heal and sprints towards the only safety she can see, the black truck. The guy opens the door and tries to explain as Maggie sits numb in the passenger seat. The man continues to honk at the back of Maggie's car.
Suddenly, Maggie bails out of the truck and sprints to the back door of her house, I have to call the police. The door opens with ease because the lock is broken. She flies inside then sprints to the kitchen chairs. Her shaky hand grasps one of the old chairs and returns to the door, shoving the back of the chair under the door handle. The house phone sits next to the door. As she runs in she snatches the phone and quickly locks the door behind her. The phone barely stays in her hand as she rushes to call 911.
“911. What is your emergency?” Maggie pulls the phone away from her ear and watches in amazement as the unknown man emerges from the back of her car. She could see a hand gun dangling from his hand. Maggie's stomach twists and her mind is flooded with shock. How long was he there? What was he going to do? Has he been following me? I could have died. The man runs towards the woods behind her house. The black truck follows the man out of her yard honking over and over. Right before he reaches the woods, he turns back to the truck and fires three rounds then disappears into the thick of wood and leaves. The truck slows to a stop, without using its breaks. He’s dead, I know he is dead.
“911. What is your emergency?” The lady on the phone repeats. “Hello? Is anyone hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
Maggie stares out into her yard in astonishment then brings the phone to her ear. “Come to 9045 Elm Wood Dr. on the edge of Talky. I'm okay but there was a man in the back of my car with a gun, and I think he killed someone.”
“The police are on their way. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until they get to your house?”
“No.” Maggie says with a shaky voice then sets the phone on the table. She stares out onto the drive way. The man from the truck still hadn’t emerged from the vehicle. As tears pour from Maggie’s eyes, she walks towards the door. Maggie pauses for a second, and then slowly removes the chair from under the door handle.
The ice cold air caresses her bare arms as she walks toward the truck. Her stomach sinks to her feet and her heart beats at a lethal rate. The truck sits motionless in the middle of her back yard. Nobody stirs inside the truck as she approaches the driver’s side door. Maggie eyes close, preparing her for what she is about to see. As she opens her eyes she sees the windshield of the truck, cracked with a perfect bullet hole. In the corner of her eye she sees the man’s navy blue shirt stained with crimson red blood. Maggie slowly slides her hand down the side of the door until her cold shaky hand reached the door handle. She pulls lightly and the door pops open. His body sits, still warm to the touch with two bullet holes, one in his chest, one in his head. How is this possible? Why me? Why him? “Don’t cry, you’ll see him soon.” The deep, wicked voice comes from behind her. Maggie slowly turns her head until the silhouette of the bearded man comes into her peripheral vision.
“What do you want from me?” Maggie’s voice shakes as she tries to keep down the tears.
“I want you to feel how I felt when you rejected me, hopeless and alone.” He says as he cocks his gun, loading the next bullet. My bullet.
Maggie turns around to face the man. She stares at her fate in the eyes, eyes that looks so familiar now. He was the reason she left Chicago. How could I have not known? His hair used to be trimmed and clean, his smile used to illuminate the room. He was a great guy, just not the right guy.
“Chris, don’t. Please don’t do this.” The tears sting her eyes and the streams of tears chill on her face in the cold air.
“It’s so nice that I'm not the one begging this time.” He raises his hand, pointing the barrel right at Maggie’s head. Maggie turns on her heel and sprints down the side of the truck trying to get away.
Pop! The shot echoes through the woods and pierces a perfect hole thorough her back. Her back burns like a wild fire as she stumbles to the ground. She lies in pain as Chris walks up to her and stands above her.
“I love you Maggs.” He raises the gun to her forehead and pulls the trigger.