Dark Night, Black Rain

Charlie

Rolling down the windows hadn't helped, even with the misting rain. In fact, his eyelids had felt even heavier than they had just a few minutes earlier. But then the screaming started. THAT woke him up. 

He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding on the slick, loose gravel. Once stopped, Robb strained his ears, peering through the dark night all around him, trying to find the source of the terrible scream he'd heard.

"CHARLIE!"

Robb jumped, his heart pounding. Where was that coming from? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. If someone was really in trouble - and if they were out in this desolate stretch tonight they would be - and he didn't try to help, they could die and it would be his fault. But if they weren't in trouble, and it was all some attempt to lure him out of his car for some unthinkable reason, then he'd be a fool to even think about opening the door.

"CHARLIE!"

The little hairs all over his body stood straight on end, a cold clamminess stealing over him. There was such despair in the voice, such longing and fear that he felt his eyes tearing up. He sat in indecision, and the rain intensified. Large, heavy drops began pelting the car, shimmering like dark jewels in the twin beams of his headlights. He rolled up the windows, his breath fogging up the one on the driver's side door as he continued to search the darkness for signs of anyone needing help.

When the scream came again, it was wordless and far more chilling than any previous. This time, it ended in a drawn-out wailing. He had to do something. He couldn't just leave without knowing what was happening out there in the wilderness. Even though he knew it would be useless, he checked his cell phone for reception. As predicted, there was none. 

He wrapped his hand around the door handle, but hesitated. He was about twenty miles from the nearest town, in either direction, and there was nothing out here he knew of but woods and grassland with tangled brush and brambles. And wild animals. Cougars, bears, foxes, and coyotes all called these lonely tracts their home.

But what if this person, man or woman, he couldn't tell yet, was hurt? What if this Charlie person was, too, or even dead? Wouldn't Robb want someone to come to his aid if it were him out there?

"This is probably a very bad idea," he muttered, zipping up his coat before getting out of the car. He pulled on his gloves and went around to open the trunk. The cold, black rain pelted him, finding ways to sneak past his supposedly weatherproof coat to slide down his neck and chest.  He grabbed a flashlight and tire iron. It would be an awkward weapon, but it was metal and heavy enough to do some serious damage.

He considered leaving the car running, in case he needed to get out of there fast, but worried that it might get stolen if this was all some elaborate carjacking hoax. So he turned it off and slipped the keys into his jeans pocket. He shut the door and the trunk quietly, not wanting to call attention to himself, checked that the flashlight was working, then cautiously headed into the tall grass to the right of the road.

He shielded the end of the flashlight, making sure only a small sliver shone on the wet, tangled weeds under foot. Anyone looking for him would still have little trouble finding him, but he told himself the less obvious he made himself, the better.

"CHARLIE!"

This time the voice sounded so near that Robb almost dropped the flashlight with a startled yelp. "Geez," he said, teeth chattering as he spun in a circle, trying to find out who was doing all this screaming. There was nothing, not that he could see, anyway. He risked unshielding the flashlight, letting its yellow-white beam sweep across the meadow or field or whatever where he was standing was called.

"Hello?" His voice sounded weak and scared to his own ears. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello? Who's out here?" A little better that time, though the cold and rain was making him shiver so much his voice still quavered more than he'd like. "Do you need help?"