The Halloween Project 2026 – Story 4: Wrapped

The Walmart was packed, checkout lines were long, and Simon, with the bags he hefted, headed to his car, if he could only remember where he’d parked it. “Why didn’t I get a cart? Why didn’t I pay attention when I parked the damn car?” he muttered. It was almost seven o’clock, and the sun had already set. The overcast sky made the world as gloomy as the October day it actually was. He maneuvered up and down a few rows of the slowly emptying lot, thinking he had minutes before the two paper bags, clearly overloaded, would give way. He finally noticed his Nissan when he blinked the lights with his key fob. Then he came to a stop.

The car next to his, except for an empty space between, looked strange. White, nondescript, but still strange. More than strange. The car had something on top. Something wrapped in a white sheet and tied with rope. He couldn’t be sure. Obviously, he couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it was a wrapped…there was no other word for it.

A body.

To Simon, it looked like a goddamn body, tied in a white sheet. Mounted on top of a white car. He just stood and stared.

“It’s not a body. Of course it’s not a body. That’s absolutely insane,” he murmured and turned back toward his own car. That’s when a man trundled by with his full shopping cart from the Walmart. He was a nondescript man, normal as normal can be, in his mid, maybe late 50s. Stocky, wearing a windbreaker, jeans, and work boots. It was what was in the cart that caught Simon’s attention. A large shovel, a smaller spade, plastic sheeting, and waterproof gloves. At least that’s what Simon could see. There were some other items piled in the cart as well, but he couldn’t make them out. That’s when his first paper bag gave way.

“Holy crap,” the man behind the cart said. “You need help there, partner?”

“No, thanks. I’m O.K. Stupid I didn’t get a cart. This is my car.” Simon spoke normally, but his voice betrayed him just a note, and he never looked up at the man.

“O.K., well, this is me,” the man announced.

As he reassembled bananas, bagged onions and garlic along with other items, his brain was screaming:

“Holy shit, Simon, you’ve been watching too many horror flicks! That’s what you get when you stream the SHUDDER channel all October!”

That’s what he was thinking, but his curiosity got the better of him. As the man moved past him, close enough to touch if he reached out, Simon said, “Hey, lot of equipment there.”

“Hey,” the man repeated. “Gardening. A lot of it. Perennials. They come up every year, but still some of them die.”

Simon picked up the brief conversation.

“Yeah, that’s true. But where are the plants? The perennials?”

Without hesitation, the man replied, “Didn’t pick them up yet. Preparing the ground first.”

“O.K. Well, good planting,” Simon said. There was a moment’s hesitation. Just a second, and Simon thought it odd when the man answered.

“Hah!”

That was all he said. “Hah!”

Simon opened his trunk, placed his torn bags inside and walked around to the driver’s side door. He settled in but didn’t turn the engine on. He sat for a minute, making believe he was looking down at his phone but glancing occasionally at the man unloading his tools and supplies.

When the car began to back out, Simon couldn’t resist. Curiosity killed the cat, Simon thought, and he started his car. He kept talking to himself, out loud, with the radio off.

“Who the hell do I think I am? What, am I starring in an episode of Law & Order?”

But he followed the white car, allowing distance and other cars to intervene. Quietly, steadily, he followed. The car made its way through town to the north side, then took a lane heading toward Roosevelt Forest, a 300-acre nature preserve off the beaten path. Simon followed, now leaving a good distance between his car and the white one with the sheet-wrapped something on top. When the car turned onto the packed dirt road to the forest, Simon hesitated. No other cars were coming or going. The dark had settled in for good. He sat for a minute.

He said, “You’ve lost your mind,” shut off his lights, and followed at a distance, slowly, just allowing himself the light of the rising moon and the red taillights 50 yards beyond. When the car ahead pulled off, moved another hundred feet into the forest and stopped, Simon did as well. He exited the car and moved slowly, treading as lightly as he could manage toward the darkened spot where he last saw the car. Moving as close as possible, he crouched down behind a large oak, watching and waiting.

Over the next hour and a half, he listened to the sounds of digging, scraping, some grunts, and silence. Then more shovel work. Simon moved closer. Then closer still.

A powerful flashlight beamed, coursed over him quickly, and returned to focus directly on his face. Its fierce light blinded him in the surrounding dark. Shielding his eyes, he could see the man well enough in the light it spread. Jeans and boots caked with dirt and mud. The man stood erect, solid, 20 feet away. In one hand, the flashlight; in the other, a long-handled axe.

“I followed you,” Simon said.

“No shit, Sherlock.” The man took two steps closer.

“How?” Simon began. “How the hell could you just tie up a body and leave it on the top of your car? Wouldn’t someone see it? Wouldn’t someone notice?”

“People see what they want to see. Most people don’t notice anything. Most people just go through their days seeing nothing. Do you see a crowd out here? Only you. You had to notice and just had to follow. You couldn’t just pick up your groceries and go home. You’re the only one.” He took two more steps. Simon didn’t move.

“And now,” the man said, taking two more steps.

“Wait, wait! Wait just a minute. I’ve got something I want to say,” Simon pleaded.

There was silence. No dark autumn forest sounds. No scurrying squirrels, no birds. The silence thickened, and the man neither spoke nor moved.

Simon began.

“I have a wife. I just can’t…” He hesitated. “I just can’t take her anymore. You know what I mean? She’s a nag, constantly. Berating me. She doesn’t care about anything. She complains and complains. Constantly. She doesn’t work. She sits around all day. Watches TV. Eats junk food. Never makes a meal. Nothing. She’s nothing. And I just can’t take it…her…anymore. I just can’t.”

The silence grew, enveloping them deeper than the dark. It lingered. Grew.

“I just can’t take it,” Simon said.

The man across from Simon bowed his head and looked at the ground. He stayed that way for the longest minute of Simon’s life. Then his face lifted as if he had heard a message from the stark trees aloft or could see the stars beyond the leafless trees. Finally, he gazed intensely at Simon.

And the man said, “I have an extra sheet in the car.”