The whole car kept shuddering. If I can just get it to the garage, I can call Joe. Joe isn't the most agreeable man in the world but he does get the job done and he is the closest. Charlie thought to himself.

"C'mon, car. Just get around the corner." Charlie Wilson muttered aloud to the shaking, muttering car. I shouldn't have taken it out at all today, but we are almost to Joe's if she could just make it.

"You can do it. Yeah, that's it. Right there you almost got it! Okay here we go." The car was starting to pick up. "Yes! Alright, good girl," Charlie cooed to it as if it was a pet. "We got it. No! No, no, no… Damned car."

A wretched grinding, some smoke spurted out of the engine, puffing around the hood and the car was a goner. Charlie slammed the car door and shoved the hood up. But just as he did the smoke attacked his face as if they were leeches starving for some of his blood.

"Damn. Stupid piece of machinery! We were almost there!" He yelled at the car, as if reasoning with it would make it somehow come back to life. He glared at the car, and begrudgingly stomped away.

Charlie Wilson stomped over to Joe Camber's garage, frustrated and annoyed with that damned car he owns. The engine must have caught on fire, I probably forgot to get the oil changed or some stupid shit. His temper was steaming, just like his car was this morning, he chuckled ironically at the thought.

He needed Joe to fix it up, but the place looked basically deserted as he approached it. "Joe!" Charlie yelled in a rough voice, while searching outside. Normally, the Camber's dog…what was the name of that stupid mutt? Cujo? That was it. He's normally roaming around out here. Of all days for the stupid car to go out, it picked today. The day the Cambers were gone on the road trip or some sort of shit. Charlie had thought that Joe would be working out in his garage like he normally is, but I also thought that I would be in my car on my way to work right now and we see how that turned out. The screen door to enter the Camber's boring, gray house swung in the wind.

"Eerie…" Charlie muttered to himself. He called for Joe again. Charlie Wilson wasn't just about to go barging into another man's house, he started to huff away. But he needed that damned car fixed.

Charlie sighed deeply, spun around and leapt up the corroding steps. He needed that car fixed or Janet and the kids would have a fit. Charlie could hear it now.
"Charlie Wilson! You promised those children you would take them up to the beach and now you're backing out? Lord! What would my mother say if she could see me now, married to a liar?" Janet was loud and obsessed with keeping Charlie honest. He always thought to himself when she said such bullshit about her mother, "If my mother could see you screaming at me the way one screams at a child, she would probably pat you on the back then sock you a good one."

Janet's lucky, I'm pretty evenly tempered. If I was Joe Camber I would have probably smacked her a new one. Maybe I should stick him on her for a while. Again, he chuckled then sighed. Joe Camber's wife probably wouldn't have thought that was funny. Hell everybody in town knows he beats her every once in a while or at least thought about it. But he was a good mechanic and the closest one at that, even though his house was way out here in the boonies.

Charlie carefully pressed his hand up to the door of the house and half-heartedly stumbled inside.

The dank smell of a butcher's shop that sold only moldy meats flooded his nose, "Christ Almighty! It smells like something died in here! JOE! Joe you better be in here!" Christ. What if he killed the wife! What was her name? Charlotte? He couldn't remember. The smell of mildew was also making its way into his nose. Charlie followed the smell into the kitchen, silently praying he wouldn't find the wife's dead corpse on the ground.

What would I do if I found her? Call the police. That's not difficult, Charlie. Call the police. He could tell the smell was coming from the kitchen. Can't feel my toes. Can't feel my brain. Oh Lord, someone is dead in there I know it.

He pushed the hideously yellow, swinging door open. Everything was in slow motion.

The door swung into the kitchen.

It hit something.

What was it?

A foot.

Whose foot?

A dead foot.

Whose foot?!

Charity's?

No.

He saw it. He breathed it all in. It was Joe Camber, all 250 pounds of him, on the ground with his throat ripped to shreds. The flies were surrounding the corpse, the smell overwhelmed him. The blood has stopped flowing but it still isn't dry. Oh that smell.

Butchered.

An animal must have done this.

Charlie was numb. He was supposed to do something. What do you do when you find a dead body? Police. Right. Call the Police. He rigidly stepped around Joe's bloody limbs and managed to miss the puddle of blood, or at least he thought he missed it. His black shoe slipped into the red, rust puddle.

Charlie's stomach heaved with disgust. He yanked his foot out of the red poison. Don't look down, don't look down. You know it won't be good if you look down. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow his breathing. Those seconds would cost him. Charlie blindly grasped for the phone, but his hand grasped at open air. He knew that's where the phone was supposed to be. How many times have I been over here? Too many.

Charlie forced his eyes to open. This isn't fair, I'm a sales man. I shouldn't have to do this. He almost left, then scolded himself slightly. Charlie Wilson does not leave a dead man and he certainly doesn't act like a priss.

His eyes sluggishly followed the cord to find the phone in Joe Camber's rotting hand. He pulled the cord so the phone itself would pop out of Joe's hand and quickly started to dial. Shivers ran down his spine. The phone just reeked of decomposition. How long had he been here? Where is the thing that attacked him? Oh Lord. What if it was still here? If it was still here, he reasoned, it would have eaten Joe. Lord have mercy on me. I have to leave, it's going to get me. He placed the phone up to his ear as the calm, even tone replied, "911, state your emergency."

Charlie stammered, "There's a man…. Joe Camb… I'm in his kitchen and I found…him. I found him."

"Sir? You found him what? What was he doing?" But Charlie had stopped speaking because he felt it. His hair went up on his neck and chills went down his spine. The thing that had killed Joe was in the doorway. There was a throaty, rough growl behind him. Charlie didn't know what it was, he had no idea what to do but his legs knew he had to run. Charlie bolted past the Joe, past the blood, leaving the phone hanging by its cord and the calm, even voice saying, "Sir? Sir? Are you there?"

Charlie Wilson ran out the back door. He almost stopped when he realized his car was not with him. It's at least two miles out. But his feet kept going. Joe has neighbors. Maybe he could make it, but he heard the animal behind him. How could he lose it? There's a field. Where? Where is it?! Maybe I can lose it. The animal must have got caught behind the body in the blood or else it would have caught him by now. Charlie sprinted into the wheat field.

Cujo saw the Man leaning over his kill with the phone in his hand. The Man was scared. Good. He's next. He should be scared. Cujo just wants to kill, not eat or sip the water. But oh the water, I'm thirsty. But the water just tasted of tar and it hurts to drink. The Man did this. He has to pay. He wants to kill Cujo. They all do. Cujo heard the man's voice and a growl rose in his throat. The Man heard it and started to run. The 190 pound Saint Bernard had not expected this. But the chase was good. Cujo likes The Chase.

Cujo bound after the Man. Kill. His paws slipped in the blood that was beneath the body. Stupid Meat. Cujo picked himself up and bounded after the man.

The screen door was smashed to pieces in seconds as Cujo slammed through it. His head was making the red liquid like it did when the Meat had hit him right before he ripped the Meat's throat out. The Meat's blood was still on his teeth. But it was mostly dry now. He needed more. Where is the Man?

Cujo ran after Charlie just as he disappeared into the yellow field. Cujo could no longer see the Man. But he could hear him.

Charlie knew his time was limited. I have to call someone or make it to the neighbors. I have to get out of this field! Charlie started creeping toward the left side of the field, there was a house on the side of it, but it was still a ways away. One step at a time, Charlie.

Cujo couldn't see the Man. How was he to kill him? He listened intently waiting for the man to make a movement to lead Cujo to him.

There.

It was the Man. He was moving quietly but Cujo could smell the fear radiating off of him like the Meat's fear used to radiate. He slowly stepped towards him. Stalking him. The Man was the prey and he was the Predator.

Charlie knew he was almost there. He could hear the cows and that little boy playing his banjo. He must not be that far. He thought about Janet and how she would scream at the news if he died and how his girls would no longer have a father. Oh what morbid thoughts.

Charlie knew he wasn't going to make it. But he had to try. He was only a tiny bit away. He started sprinting with every muscle he had. Just to make it to the edge of the wheat field.

Cujo leaped, knowing the Man would never make it. The dog pounced on Charlie's thigh and drove its teeth into…

The Meat! Cujo felt the blood and heard the Man's scream but all he felt was the blood. He lunged for the throat. But Charlie blocked him shoving with all his might. But it wasn't enough. He knew that. He knew that.

His arm gave way.

The dog took the gateway and ripped out Charlie's throat.

That damned car. Charlie thought.

Charlie was gone. Dead in a field with no one to find him.

"Sir! Sir! What has happened!? Are you there? Officer Marlin! I need you to trace this call. Whose name is Joe that lives around here?" The female receptionist asked.