They Paved Hell

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

A Karmic story of revenge on a desert highway in the American southwest.

Submitted: December 17, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 17, 2017



(Scene One)

(Desert floor. Early morning.)


A large black beetle makes its way across the hard pack desert sand following a crack that peters out in the shade of a large automobile. A black drop of liquid falls from it and lands close by. The little beetle raises its butt to the threat.


(Scene Two)




(Flashes of light)


A young girl’s tortured screams. A pink tennis shoed foot kicks near a jaundiced dome light. Pleading sounds from a large man with a red shop rag stuffed in his mouth. The short end of a .38 revolver pointed promising at his face. The big man squeezes his eyelids open and closed rapidly to clear the tears that blind him. The vehicle rocks on its suspension to the rhythm of a violator. His fellow conspirator turns up the country radio with his free hand.


(Scene Three)

(Shadow slowly moves as the mountain eclipsed sun bursts over the peak and floods the cold valley)

A shaft of light hits the little black bug just as the big block Chevy roars to life. The 454 revs. Its fan driven wind knocks him over and blows him into the new morning. The dark red Laguna SS continues to rev longer and louder each time. Near by birds take to the sky as the tension grows.


(Scene Four)



(Loud Country music plays from distorted dash speaker)


The back seat screams subsided, the two violators have taken turns and are worn out. The big man in the front seat says prayers for his little girl through the rag. His face blotchy and his eyes blind with rage takes a serious swipe at the gun as his captor was peering over the seat into the back. The man with the gun was too fast though and punched him in the ear. The big man winced with the sudden lightning bolt of pain. When he opened his eyes next, he saw the two men standing just outside the car straightening their clothes. He stared at them hard, comprehending who and what they were. The one in the stained cowboy hat smiled at his obvious understanding then shot the ruined girl in the back seat between the eyes. The large man lurched forward with animal like speed towards the murderers and caught a slug in his right cheek that sent the poor father’s body back into the car. The formerly white leather interior was now two-tone with a father’s love. The monsters walked unsteadily, but laughing, back to their cars.


That was a year ago.


(Scene Five)

(View from above desert car. The sunlight glares off it’s white roof)


The big block Chevy sounds like a demon. It’s hot exhaust noise bounces off sand stone walls on either side of the small sandy valley. The Muncie transmission drops into first and the car leaps forward a foot. The car strains against its front brakes as the the clutch slips and the RPMs rise again.


(View from above)


The red Laguna moves slowly, at first, making circles. The fat rear tires eat the the tan floor as the circles get bigger and bigger, sending a dust devil of its own into the morning sky.


(Scene Six)

(View from a bullet ridden yellow highway sign for Curvy Road Ahead)

(You hear the roaring car first then…)


The red Chevy slides sideways onto the road from the desert leaving a cloud of dirt behind. The wide street tires bite into the warming desert asphalt and the car righted itself. It hit third gear.


(Scene Seven)

(View through a dirty windshield of a parked car. A blinding glare. The outline of a cowboy hat sitting on the dashboard)

(A far off rumble in the distance coming from behind parked car. Rumble getting steadily louder)


The man in the car aims his gun outside his window towards the approaching roar. He’s sitting just behind a ruined Whiting Bro’s billboard. The roar reaches its peak as fifty grease balls on hogs pass, the ones in the rear giving him the bird. The man reciprocates and puts his radar gun back down on the cruiser’s bench seat. He takes his department issued Foster Grants off and wipes the sweat from his face with a smelly handkerchief. The Harlan county deputy draws up some sputum, spits it out the window and then key’s his mic.

“Unit Five Niner Niner - Central”

(a moment passes)

“Unit Five Niner Niner - Central”

(another moment passes)

“Damit, Laverne! Copy?”

“Keep your pants on, Earl Lee. I copy. What’s your 20?” the sheriff’s dispatcher said.

“I’m fifty miles north of Dewey on the Ninety Six. Copy?” he said.

“Are you sitting behind that old sign, Earl Lee? (she laughs) Copy?”

“Close enough. - Central” then “Proceeding to Dewey for a official meeting with the Sergeant. Copy?”

“Bullshit, Earl Lee.” she chuckles into the mic.

“For Christ’s sake, Laverne. Just put me off duty. Over and Out.”

“The Sarge says he’s on his way.- Over.” the dispatcher said.


Earl Lee put his hat on, popped a few olives from a sun warmed jar into his mouth and put the Dodge Polara patrol car in drive.


(Scene Eight)

(Sheriff’s office, view from ceiling)


Laverne Grimes, the sheriff’s dispatcher, pushes the mic back and turns to face her co-workers as they head out for the center of town for the Founders Day parade.


“Alright then.” Sergeant Chester Brookes said as he turned for the door.

“I’m off to an important meeting.” he continued with a chuckle, “On my way to Dewey, Central.

“What about the parade?” Laverne chided.

He raises his middle finger to her as he walks away.

“Hey, bring me back one of those cinnamon rolls from EATS, Chet.” Laverne said to the tall cop’s back.

A young red headed ticket maid walks into Central. Both women stair at the cop’s butt as he walks from the office to his cruiser. When he’s out of site the red head looks at the dispatcher and they both shake their heads and smile.

“Ya sure you don’t want me to stay, Laverne?” Officer Shelli Beets asked.

“Nah, go on. I got this. Besides, I could use the peace for a couple of hours.” Laverne said and then pulled a fat joint out of her big hair and showed it to her cool younger co-worker. They both laughed quietly.

“Alright then, Central. I’m out of here. Try not to fall asleep.” Shelli said, and winked as she walked out the tented glass door of the station house.

Laverne felt the already hot desert air waft in as the door opened and then closed behind Shelli. She then made a quick tour of the small building before she sat at her desk and lit the doobie she found in her son’s sock drawer the night before. She drew in the sick sweet smoke long and slow, held it a moment, blew it out and coughed. Laverne propped her right leg over the corner of her desk. Looking at the smoking blunt in her hand, she wondered where her son got this “cheap shit” before taking another hit.


(Scene Nine)

(View from high above the red Chevrolet Laguna as it makes it way across the desert on an open road just a few miles behind Earl Lee’s Dodge cruiser and the long winding canyon they’re going to enter)


Earl Lee pulls his visor down a bit and turns up his radio. He fingers a Pall Mall from a soft pack in his breast pocket and pushes the car lighter in. He puts the glowing orange coil to his filtered cigarette and draws in the acrid smoke. His cruiser doesn’t have a.c. but it does have a big 440 police interceptor motor and a decent radio. He pulls long and hard on the cigarette, trying to finish it before he enters the canyon. He needs both hands to maneuver the heavy and powerful car through the course fast enough to beat his last time of ten minutes and twenty two seconds. Earl Lee pulls a stop-watch from his other breast pocket and lays it on the seat. He takes one last drag on his cigarette, tosses it out the window, starts the watch and then punches the accelerator. A moment later, a wide street tire runs over the still smoking butt.


(Scene Ten)

(View from above. 1967 white Mustang traveling north on open desert highway. Pop music plays from car’s am radio.)

(View from outside passenger window of Mustang. Female driver in her late 20s wearing big round sunglasses. Her hair is in curlers, covered with a gauzy chiffon yellow kerchief. She sings along with the radio. She is only ten miles from the Dewey city limits)


“.....sweet-talking girl comes along, singing her song

Don't mess around, you've just got to be strong, just stop

'Cause… Oh shit!” the young woman says in fear when she notices the big black Plymouth in her rear view mirror. She panics and puts the accelerator to the floor. The little 289 V-8 comes to life as she makes for the city limits as fast as she can get there. She needs people. She needs the protection the viewing eyes of the public can give her. The Mustang struggles to hit one hundred miles an hour. Her heart pounds and she starts to sweat. The black car inches closer and closer, then backs off again. She is terrified.


(View from hood looking through the windshield at the mustachioed driver in mirrored Foster Grant aviator sunglasses. The man starts to smile broadly)


He follows the mustang closely, accelerating at a slow and steady pace. He toys with her by getting closer and then backing off. He’s showing her that he can take her anytime he wants. Her car is no match for his Plymouth Gran Fury or him, for that matter. He’s also aware that he’s getting dangerously close to the city limits. He realizes that this little bit of fun has to end.


(Personal Point of View. She looks in the mirror and sees that he put the lights on)


It was futile trying to get away from him, she knew. He had showed her that he could overtake her anytime he wanted, with his little games. She pulled over and waited for the worst.


(View from across the highway. The tall officer steps from his car. He slowly puts his Stetson on, slides his baton into his Sam Browne and walks towards the Mustang)


The officer steps up to the driver’s side door. The driver only looks strait forward out the windshield. She flinches to the sound of the slow click- click- click of the man’s academy ring as it taps her window. She rolls it down but won’t look at the man.


“Good morning, Marie.” the officer says in a over-the-top cheery voice.

“Where ya going in such a hurry, sweetheart?” he asked.

Marie was visibly scared and didn’t answer.

“I said Where are you going so fast.” he spoke with a sharp tone this time.

Marie turned her head slightly toward the man but still did not look at him.

“Nowhere, Chet.” she said.

“Well…” he said while straightening up again and stretching his back.

“You’re gonna get there fast.” he chuckled.

“Can I go now?” she asked in a quiet pleading voice.

“Get a babysitter tonight. I got plans for us, Sis.” he said to his dead brother’s wife.

Marie looked up into her brother in law’s face with fear and defiance.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she asked.

Quick as lightning, his left hand was around her throat. Her head was forced back and the knuckles of his thumb and forefinger pressed into the underside of her jaw.

“Now, sis. That wasn’t very nice. After all I’ve done to take care of you and the boy?”

She let out a little sound. He relaxed his grip.

“I’m sorry, Chet.” she said, barely audible.

“I know you are are, Honey.” he said in a sweet voice, as his hand slid slowly from her neck down into her blouse. He gently cupped her right breast. Marie shivered.

A car was now approaching from the direction of town. Chester noticed it, but before pulling his hand out of her shirt he gave her nipple a savage pinch that made her cry out loud.

“Babysitter, Marie.” he said casually, walking away.

“I’ll be by around nine. Wear that low cut blue number I bought you.” he yelled from his car before getting in.


(View from rear driver’s side of police cruiser looking at the approaching truck)


A sun faded green International Harvester pickup with a camper on it approached, slowing down to gawk at the goings-on. The officer gave a friendly wave and a smile to the old couple in the cab of the truck.


(view from outside the pickup’s windshield looking in)


“Was that young lady crying?” the old man asked his wife.

“Must’ve gotten a ticket.” he continued, nodding back to the cop.

The old woman beside him didn’t smile back at the cop and kept her thoughts on the subject to herself. They drove on.


(Scene Eleven)

(View from outside the red Chevy’s driver side door. The car makes its way through the canyon slowly catching up with the police cruiser not far ahead)


(View from backseat of police cruiser. The officer grips the steering wheel with both hands as he screeches around the corners. The officer’s eyes are seen looking into the rear view mirror. He has a look of mild irritation and then amusement on his face.)


“ Unit Five Niner Niner - Central”

“Copy, Five Niner Niner. What’s your Twenty?” Laverne asks.

“I’m southbound in Red Canyon, Central.”

“Copy, Earl Lee. What’s up?”

“Request a 10-28 on a red Chevrolet Laguna. License romeo delta romeo sierra sierra 74 - Over”

Laverne repeated the license plate back to Earl Lee. He confirmed and she told him to stand by. Meanwhile he slowed his pace and kept an eye on the car.

Four minutes later…

“Central- Five Niner Niner?”

“Copy- Central. What do you have, Laverne?”

“Well that car is registered to a Reverend Alvin P. Wright of Flagstaff. Deceased.”- Over.”

“No fucking way.” Earl Lee said out loud to himself, looking into the rearview mirror just as the the red Chevy slammed into the back of his cruiser.

“Central- Unit Five Niner Niner. Copy?” Laverne asked.

“Unit Five Niner Niner - Unit Six Niner Niner! Copy? Earl Lee called over his radio frantic after being slammed into a second time.

Earl Lee put his siren and gumballs on and sped up in a futile attempt to ward off his pursuer.

“What’s going on, Earl Lee?- Over” Sergeant Chester Brookes asks.

“Chet, we may have a problem!- Over”

“Central- Unit Five Niner Niner. I’ve got no backup. Everybody’s at the damn parade.-Copy?”


(View from Chet’s hood looking in through the windshield)


“Unit Six Niner Niner- Central? I’m 10-76. Copy?” Chet said, as he put on his lights and stood on the accelerator, passing EATS on the north end of town.


(View from above both cars speeding through the canyon)

(View from the hood of the red Chevy. The car downshifts. The motor screams as it lurches forward, bumping the cruiser and making it fishtail a bit.)

(View from passenger seat facing Earl Lee. Sweat runs down the side of his face as he tries to keep control of the big Dodge.)


Earl Lee is pushed back into his seat and then thrown forward into his steering wheel as the Chevy hits him again.


“STOP!” the scared cop screamed.


The car hits him again. Earl Lee turns white when he hears the red Chevy’s horn. It was like an eerie laugh as it cut through his brain.


“It wasn’t my idea!” he screams again.

This time the Laguna rides his bumper coming out of a corner.


(View from behind the Chevy at ground level. Dirt and rocks spray up from the police car as it rubs the canyon wall.)


(View from the hood of police car looking through the windshield. Earle Lee’s face is pale and his knuckles are white with his grip on the steering wheel.)


(Scene Twelve)

(View from passenger side dashboard looking at Officer Brookes. The desert landscape flies by the drivers side window. The man’s face is set in stone. His body gives no clue to the disbelief and paralyzing fear that currently grips inside.)


Loud static suddenly blairs from his police radio and then

“Where the FUCK are you, Chet?!” a scared Earl Lee screams.

“Central- Unit Five Niner Niner. What’s going on?!” Laverne asks, shaken by the sound of fear in Earl Lee’s voice.


(View from above Central Dispatch. Laverne presses a button to record the transmissions)


“Calm down, Earl Lee. I’ll meet you just south of the canyon when you come out. -Copy?” Chet said as confidently and authoritatively as he could muster.

“Central- Units Six Niner Niner and Five Niner Niner, What’s going on, Chet? Earl Lee?” Laverne asks but gets no reply.

“YOU calm the fuck down, Chet!” Earl Lee yells back into his mic.


The red Laguna SS slams into him again, it’s demonic horn seemingly laughs again.


“This is all your fault!” the cop says, now crying.

“I didn’t want to do it! Honestly!” he said into the mic but looking at his antagonist in the rear view mirror.

“What’s he talking about, Chet?” Laverne asks.

“Get ahold of yourself, Man! You’re talking nonsense.” Chet replied, ignoring Central.

(View from above the two cars racing through the canyon. They are about to exit out into the open desert)

“We killed them, Sarge….” Earl Lee said, barely audible over the sound of the laughing horn.

“Shut up, Earl Lee! We didn’t kill anybody.” Chet yelled back over the radio.


(View from the back seat of Earl Lee’s cruiser looking out the windshield. The mouth of the canyon opens up before them and expels the two cars out into the harsh light of the wide desert)


At first, Earl Lee felt relieved. Hope crept into his mind and then scurried away again as the cop looked into his mirror. Together, his bowels and bladder betrayed him. Officer Earl Lee saw the preacher and his daughter looking back at him from his own back seat.


“I see you, Earl Lee! I’m almost there! Chet yelled into the mic.


(View from back seat of Chet’s cruiser looking out through the windshield. Two cars approaching fast. The two cars only visible when cresting the rolling hills)


“We killed them….Chet” Earl Lee said again, as in a trance.


(View from rear view mirror. The father and daughter looking back at the mirror. They look severely beaten, each one with a single bullet hole in their head.)


“You’re crazy, Earl Lee! We didn’t do anything!” Chet said, now sounding frantic. He could clearly see the preacher's car chasing Earl Lee now and he pissed himself.


“We did. We raped... and murdered them and then we went back when we were sober and burned the car.” Earl Lee said, calmly. There was no life left in his voice.


(View from grill of red Chevy. The car speeds up and steers left of the patrol car as if to pass, but the car only gets as far as the cruiser’s left rear tire when it abruptly turned in toward the big Dodge, effecting a pit maneuver.)


(Driver’s point of view. Earl Lee was staring at the bloody tableau in his mirror as his world went sideways and upside down.)


“I’m so sorry.” Earl Lee said into his mic, just before his neck was broke.


(View from right rear seat in Chet’s cruiser looking through the windshield. A 1973 Dodge Polara rolls sideways, straight for him, taking up both lanes)


Chet hears the Laguna’s laughing horn and sees his own death coming straight at him.

“Dear God!” he screams just before impact.


(View from east side of the road looking west. The two cruisers meet with a terrible impact at the crest of a hill. The volume of the collision was only matched and then surpassed by the sound of the demonic horn and then explosion of the combination as the dark red 1974 Chevrolet Laguna SS slammed into the wreckage.)

(View from high above wreckage. Black smoke rises. Country music plays.

Fade to black)


The End

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