Killed the Hell Out of That Thing

I was driving along the highway the other day, on a moonless night. I passed one of those deer crossing signs and the BUH-HAM! Something pounds into the front of the car, rolls over the roof and caves the windshield in. I pull the car over to the side, panicking, bleeding, nearly crying.

I see, fifty feet behind me, a brown lump lying on the road. I felt amixutre of guilt and hatred. Fuckiong Bambi, fucking thing ruined my fucking car. I hate myself so much. So stupid!

Then, as I approached it, my chest seized up and my legs nearly left me. It wasn't a deer. It was the broken lump of a man, wearing a brown fur coat. I bent down, intending to take his pulse. But there was no need. It was clear the poor fellow was dead. He was leaking blood and organs all over the road and staring straight ahead at nothing, or maybe he was looking into heaven.

I ran back to the car for my cell phone, intending to call for help. Now I was crying. But damn, no service! Fucking Verizon! Where will In-Network get me now?

I spun around in circles, searching for some light, some sign of life. There was no traffic, only the pulse of my headlights throbbing against the thick night air. Then I heard a sound from the brush. Footsteps? The sound is followed by other steps.

"Hey there!" called out a voice. "You been in some kind of accident?"

"Yes!" I returned. "I'm afraid I struck and killed this poor man."

"Poor man, huh? He a big 'un?"

"Pardon me?"

"He a big 'yn or small? Idn't no kid or nuthin'?"

"No, he's quite large. Why don't all of you come into the light where I can see you?"

"Sure enough friend, sure enough."

Just then a large buck emerged in path of the headlights, flanked by two or three others. I turned back to the man I'd killed and saw a party of them gathering around the carcass.

"Am I crazy? Are you...alive? I mean...talking?"

"Listen here, don't you worry," said the buck. "What's your name?"

"Ryan."

"Mine's Walter. Now listen here, the important thing is, you don't panic. We saw the whole thing, and you handled your car real well there."

"Thank you, Walter. But I suppose we should get this man off the road."

"Well now, yes, we should, but before we touch that old boy, let's clear up a few things."

"Okay...like what?"

"Well, I was just wondering what you were planning to do with the body."

"Why? Do you want it?"

"I wouldn't give it to Walter!" cried another deer, a doe. "He'll just piece on it till it goes rot. I got a cousin that does processing. We'll see to it you get a right smart bit of man-sausage."

The other deer chimed in, each clammering for the salvage rights to the poor man lying dead on the highway. "Ludicrous! This poor man's family needs to be contacted. They'll want the body for burial."

"That ain't nothing but a sorry waste," said Walter, spatting on the ground. I didn't even know deer could spit.

"I didn't even know deer could spit."

As a show of skill, every deer in attendance spat on the ground. They were quiet then, waiting for my reply. My car's engine had long since died, and the only sound on that cold stretch of road was my tortured heart pounding in my chest.

"Okay then. Deer goes to whoever brings back a state patrolman first."

At that they darted off into the night, lkeaving me there with the pale dead man. Then I noticed one small fawn who remained behind. She curled up at my feet and I laid next to her, stroking the nape of her neck. I dropped off and slept until morning.

When I awoke, shivering, a sheriff's deputy was shaking me.

"Hey buddy. Hey buddy, get up there. You okay?"

I looked around for the fawn but saw no sign of her. "Where's the fawn? Where's all the deer?"

"We figure it had to have been a whopper that you hit, old buddy. Thing must have lived because it ran off without a trace. Hell of a lot of blodd though. Hell of a lot."

Then it was all a fever dream. A hallucination. In my frightened state, I went mad and imagined a palaver with a herd of deer.

"Why....why didn't somebody stop?"

"Well, you know how it looks...body on the highway, car smashed up. Most folks is just content to let sleeping dogs lie. Well...whatever. Plenty of folks called in though, said they saw you out here."

"Then...why didn't you get here until now? What time is it?"

"Well hell, we've been trying to get here all night. But every time we'd send out a squad car, four or five deer would run straight at the the damned thing. We had over forty deer collisions, just last night. Damndest thing I ever heard of. Say buddy, you okay? You don't look so good. You need to get off this road, get some hot chow in you."

I rose and approached the bloody smear where the offending deer must have landed. There was something stuck in the middle of the frozen pond of blood. A bit of matted fur, I thought. Maybe a piece of an antler. But no. It was a wallet. I bent down to pry it from the icy pool, and tucked it into my pocket.

"Found my wallet all the way back here," I told the police officer.

I let him lead me to the car and we drove away, sirens blaring me to the safety of a hospital, and home.