One night, a young guy and his girl are out in his car. They're stopped by the side of the road right out in the countryside, necking. They've got the radio on low, to give a bit of atmosphere. It's dark outside, but they're pretty cosy inside the car. Everything's looking good.
But then the song on the radio cuts out. It's a special announcement. The girl sits up to listen.
"Oh," says the guy, "give me a break."
But she frowns at him. "Listen." And so, rolling his eyes, he listens.
There's been a prison breakout, says the announcer. "A serial killer has escaped and is now being hunted by police in the local area." Back before he was put away, says the announcer, this man killed twenty people with a butcher's hook. "If you see him, contact police immediately."
Announcement over. The music comes back on, but suddenly the girl's no longer in the mood. She's nervous now. Wide-eyed she stares at the guy. "Listen," she says sharply, "what was that?"
"What was what?"
"I thought I heard something. A scratching noise."
"You're imagining things," he says, "Now come on."
But the girl's freaked out now. She pushes the guy away. "Listen," she says, "maybe we should get going." And whatever protests he throws up the guy cannot calm her down. She insists. She's terrified. She just wants to get home. Frustrated, the guy throws the car into gear and screeches off.
It's only when they get back to her house that they see. It only then that they understand what was making that scratching noise: caught on the handle of the driver's side door is a rusty and bloodstained butcher's hook.
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