“What’s that up in the street ahead?” I shouted worriedly.
“Don’t know...let’s get closer.” Our car got closer. It was a sleepingbag, squirming like Houdini in a straightjacket.
“Pull over.” I said.
“O.K.” We slowed and stopped. My husband got out of the car and called out. “Are you O.K.?” he asked whoever was in the bag.
“Get me out, please!” A hoarse man’s voice blurted.
He crouched to unzip the man’s sleepingbag, and a hand reached out for traction. He pulled the poor guy out--left arm, then head, then left leg, then right leg. When his right arm emerged, it came with a machete, which swooped across my husbands neck and lopped off his head.
I panicked and floored the car, stretching my foot across to the driver’s side.
Another motorist approached.
“What’s that up in the street, a head?!” the woman in this car shouted.