This is a short story I wrote a while ago and submitted to a 1,000-word-limit contest in 2022. It won 2nd place.
Whoever invented plastic grocery bags should be arrested for willful disfigurement. I wasn’t going to finish this walk with my arms intact. And yes, it’s my fault I bought too much, shut up.
A car slowed next to me.
“That’s quite a load,” said the driver, a young black man in a suit.
I shrugged. “Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”
He chuckled. “Need a lift?”
In our friendly town, such occurrences were common. My arms and legs decided for me. “Yes please.”
I sank with relief into the passenger seat. The car was nice, if bland— except for the large copper medallion on the rearview mirror.
“Which way?”
“Six blocks, the brick apartments,” I said, pointing.
He introduced himself as Chris and we made small talk, me about my engineering classes, he about when he studied law. About two blocks from my apartment I noticed him checking the rearview mirror a lot.
“Well great. How did they find me?” he muttered in an abrupt tone change. “Um. I might need to make a quick detour.”
“I’m just there, though.” I pointed as the turn to my apartment came up.
And passed.
“Wha— Hey!”
“Sorry, it’s just… not a good time for me to stop. It’s… probably nothing.”
Sure, nothing, that’s why he was steadily accelerating. And checking the mirror constantly, like a hyperactive bobblehead.
“Didn’t they move?” he muttered, ignoring me again. “I mean, they— but it wasn’t even my fault. Freaking witches.”
I looked back. Despite the low traffic, a tan sedan was hugging our bumper. Really close.
“Friends of yours?” I asked.
Chris glanced at me. “I’m going to drive out of town real fast, hope you don’t mind.”
“What? Yes I mind! What’s going on?”
“Just some old clients. Bit of a grudge. Don’t worry, they won’t follow us far.”
Don’t worry. Right. I contemplated pulling an action-movie roll out of the car, but my entire grocery budget was hostage in the back seat.
Chris was mumbling again. “It’s fine, no problem. Once we hit the town limits, they can’t do anything.”
Anything like…
A loud pop came from outside, deafening me, and I expected us to go careening off the road with a flat tire.
“Ha, they missed!”
Missed? Did they have a gun? What did Chris do to them? I looked again. A lady leaned out the passenger window, black hair whipping around her face. She seemed… upset.
Understatement of the year.
“Spurned lover or something?”
Chris barked a laugh. He replaced his copper ornament with a gold one as he spoke. “Hardly. I was their sister’s defense lawyer way back. She didn’t get off, they blame me, it’s not my fault she left wads of evidence. They’re not… subtle.”
The woman pulled her hand back like she was going to pitch a baseball at us. Fire bloomed in her palm. My jaw dropped. As the ball of fire sped toward us, I remembered what Chris had said.
Witches.
Suddenly, Chris’s acceleration seemed like a very good plan.
The fireball disappeared as Chris’s medallion sparkled blue. He grinned fiercely. “That’ll hold off a few more shots. By then we’ll be out of town.”
Three more fireballs came at us before the city “Welcome” sign appeared ahead. I watched as the woman gathered another. We sped past the sign, she loosed the blast, and it vanished into blue smoke at the city limits.
Chris sped on for several miles before parking beside the road.
“So,” I said, trying to get my breath under control. “Witches?”
“That’s who I work for,” he grimaced. “Witches, fae, sidhe… had a selkie once. Sorry about this. I wouldn’t have offered the ride if I knew they were nearby. Hand me the case out of the glove compartment?”
I found a CD case beside some odd rocks. Chris opened it, revealing not CDs but more medallions. He chose a blank bronze one and hung it up. “This’ll get you home undetected.”
That’s when we heard the howl. Chris swore, slammed the car into drive, and chucked the case at me. “Forget that. Get the silver one, looks like a tree. Now!”
I fumbled the case, dropping it. “What’s wrong?”
A glance at the mirror told that story.
“Those can’t be.”
“Werewolves,” Chris said grimly.
I dove to recover the case and flipped through frantically. Jade, copper, hematite… no silver. “Are they after us?”
“They could be with the witches, or they might be out here by chance. Shifted with no full moon.” He winced. “Probably best they don’t catch up.”
I tried a joke to ease my panic. “Well I hope this is over soon. I have two things of Ben and Jerry’s melting in the back.”
The car swerved.
“Really?” Chris stared at me. “I will give you twenty bucks for them.”
“What?”
“Each.”
“Is this the time?” I glanced at the two bear-sized wolves gaining on us.
“It’s the perfect time. Deal?”
“Sure?” Was he crazy?
“Great. I’ll pay you later. Now chuck them out the window.”
I didn’t argue. I was still hoping I’d passed out on the sidewalk and this was a bad dream. Either way, best to follow along. I scrabbled through groceries until I felt the cool cartons, grabbed them, and tossed. Goodbye, Chunky Monkey. Goodbye, Americone Dream. The cartons detonated behind us.
The two werewolves almost cartwheeled over the ice cream roadkill. As we sped away, I saw them lapping happily.
Chris laughed. “Ice cream. It’s like werewolf crack.”
An hour later, I was home, still stunned, two twenties in my pocket, when my doorbell rang.
My girlfriend Jessica came in, ponytail bobbing. “Sorry I’m late, something came up.”
“No problem,” I said. “Want to go somewhere? I’ve… got too much on my mind, I want to unwind. Plus, I’ve got forty bucks to burn. Whatever you want, my treat.”
“How about… ooh, let’s go get ice cream! I never say no to a good scoop,” said Jessica with a wide grin.
Intellectual Property of Elizabeth Doman
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