Unholy Trinity: Truck Nuts by Patrick Winters

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.

Buck

“That sure is a fine one,” Travis said, admiring the kill in the back of Jed’s bed.

“Yup.” Jed spat and puffed out his chest, showing his toothy grin. “Gave me a run for my money. Winged ‘im pretty good early on, but I had to chase ‘im down and finish the job.”

“I’d believe it. He’s a big ‘un, alright.” Travis gave a giggle. “Gonna put ‘im on your wall?”

“You betcha.”

“Gonna stuff ‘im yourself?”

Jed’s grin grew. “A’course, idjit!”

The two friends smacked at each other and laughed playfully—right over the body of old Buck Cunningham.

Hitchin’

“Sure was nice of you to give me a lift,” Luke said again, giving the two men appreciative nods. “Mighty nice, indeed.”

The big, gap-toothed driver gave a nod back. The skinny one mumbled an acknowledgment.

Luke was positioned between them in the cramped cab. It made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Been on the road a week now. Could go for a good, warm meal.”

The driver chuckled. “Yep. We was thinking the same . . .”

Luke frowned, confused by the man’s tone. “I’m sorry?”

The only answer he got came from the skinny man’s knife, slicing across his neck.

Roadkill

Shelby’s bloody feet carried her off the gravel and onto the shoulder of the road. Heaving breaths, she darted into the tall grass before her, hoping they hadn’t seen her scurry off.

She went a short way in before falling to her knees, sending a prayer up to God.

The revving of a truck engine roared against her eardrums, the crazed whoops of her kidnappers rising over the racket.

The truck was off the road now, coming closer. 

Closer . . .

A grill appeared, and the truck came barreling into her.

As Shelby’s head met the headlights, her kidnappers hollered with glee.