The unspeakable truth was written on everyone's faces: another body had been found. As I jogged through the park on that foggy mid-spring morning, I could feel the tension in the air. I encountered very few women along the way, and the ones I did encounter seemed to make a point of not letting their gazes linger too long. I would blink, and they'd be gone.

The men reacted differently. They tended to watch me with piercing stares as if trying to take a perfect picture of my face with their eyes. How would they describe me? I wondered. Probably the same generic way the news describes any suspect: a white male who appeared to be slightly above average height with dark brown hair, a short beard and large blue eyes.

I chuckled to myself. Congratulations, you've just described a good seventy per cent of the men in the city. Suddenly, the path in front of me was turned upside down. There was a numb pain in my chest, and I struggled to fill my empty lungs with air.

The spinning sky was cloaked in a ghostly, grey mist. I sat up and held my head, trying to keep it steady. My vision was distorted, but I could see someone rushing towards me.

I pushed my feet against the damp, paved path, attempting to put some distance between me and the approaching figure. The music from my headphones sounded warped. I held my breath as the shadow hovered over me. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay, man?"

I opened my eyes to see the face of a blue-eyed stranger staring down at me. Strands of his brown hair were poking out from his backwards cap. He was dressed in black, save for the white hat on his head. He gave me his hand and pulled me to my feet.

"I'm really sorry about that, man," he continued, "it's hard to see anything in this damn fog. I really didn't mean to crash into ya—I was looking down at my watch—are you okay?"

I nodded, taking a breath. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm really sorry," he repeated. "My truck's just back by the bridge. I'm pretty much done running, and wouldn't mind giving ya a lift—and oh, you dropped this," he added, handing me my wallet.

"Thanks," I replied and took it from him.

"I noticed you had a bus pass in the front—I'm not nosy or anything," he held up his hand. "My girlfriend takes the train, and I know it won't be here for another thirty minutes—I'm Nathan by the way," he held out his hand.

"Dominic," I replied as we shook his hands.

"I had a buddy back in college named Dominic, he was good people. So the offer for a ride is still on the table if you want."

I thought about it for a minute and said, "Sure."

"Awesome," Nathan beamed.

We jogged towards the bridge along the path flanked by trees that were still in want of leaves until we came to the parking lot. One vehicle was parked at the far end of the lot, a battered black truck. I assumed it was Nathan's. My suspicion was confirmed when he walked over to it and opened the passenger door.

"Have a seat," he said, "I'll be right back—nature calls," he added before disappearing into the fog.

I climbed into the raised truck and scanned the interior. It had clearly seen better days but was immaculately clean. There was no sign of dust or dirt anywhere. The Ford logo on the steering wheel looked as worn as the knob on the gearshift. Then my eyes drifted to the old bobblehead sitting on the dashboard; something was unsettling about its stare.

I jumped when my phone started vibrating. Why do I feel so anxious? I sighed at the creepy doll that seemed to be smirking. As I reached into my pocket, my wallet slipped out and fell between the seat and the door.

My hand couldn't fit in the narrow space, so I opened the door, causing the wallet to fall out of the truck. Frustrated, I hopped out to retrieve it. When I bent down, a silver glint under the seat caught my eye. I inched closer to see what it was.

I held my breath—a knife—a large knife with a black handle.

"Everything okay?" Nathan's sudden appearance surprised me.

"Yeah," I muttered, "just dropped my wallet."

"Oh, okay," Nathan said. "Well if you hop back in, we can get going." He had a calculating look on his face as he waited for my reply.

"Yeah," I smiled nervously and quickly glanced at my phone. I had a missed call from Miguel. "Hey, Nathan I just remembered I was meeting a friend, and I don't want you to make you drive all the way—"

"Don't sweat it, man. I've got a full tank," he interrupted before jumping into the driver's seat.

I slowly pulled myself back inside and closed the door as Nathan started the truck.

I just need to stay calm and figure a way out of this. Then I noticed that we hadn't moved and my heart began thumping in my chest. I could tell Nathan was staring at me. My hand was about to reach for the handle on the door when he said, "Seat belt, bro."

"Right," I said, reaching over my shoulder to grab the strap.

After the seat belt clicked in place, Nathan backed out and turned onto the gravel road that led through the woods.

"That headless body stuff's pretty fucked up, eh?" Nathan said, breaking the silence.

I tried to swallow, but there was a lump in my throat. "Yeah, it's pretty messed up."

He shook his head. "I just can't believe it's happening again."

"Were you here when the murders first started?"

"Yeah, man. I've been here most of my life, you?"

"I grew up here."

"Yeah? What part of the city?"

An icy cold crept into my hands. What was I thinking getting into this guy's truck?

"The South," I replied.

"No way," he smiled, "what community?"

Shit! What's in the South?

"Uh, Riverside."

Nathan stopped talking, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him turn towards me.

"Are you messing with me?" His tone was gruff.

I shook my head. "No."

His face brightened, "That's awesome, man. I'm from the South too, over in Devon."

"Small world," I tried to smile.

"Small world," he repeated.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. I glanced out the window and struggled to see the trees I knew were there. Instead, all I saw were shadows looming in the distance. It felt like we were driving through a cloud. Suddenly, the truck started drifting to the side of the road.

"Shit!" Nathan said.

"What?" I asked.

"We've got a flat."