Wayne Kyle Spitzer

Death Grader

When a black road grader begins stalking the streets of Schenectady, NY, its residents soon find that the road to Hell is paved … in blood!

Detective Rowe: Let's go back now—to when you first saw it move. Is that all right?

Westbrook: Sure. Like I said, I'd just woken up from the dream when I heard it, just rumbling across the field where they'd been working on the road—

Detective Rowe: The I-890–North Schenectady Corridor.

Westbrook: Sure, I guess. So I went to my window—you know, to see what was going on, and saw it sputtering to a stop near the office trailers and other equipment—which were all covered in snow—just shutting down with a rattle, like it had been running for a long time. That's when I first noticed it, how clean it was—there was no snow on it at all. Like—

Detective Rowe: But it was there when you went to sleep, isn't that correct?

Westbrook: Yes, of course. Covered in snow. It hadn't moved since December, when they had that accident—you know, where the worker was killed.

Detective Rowe: Clarke. The foreman. I seem to recall they had several accidents; including when they rammed into that layer of concrete.

Westbrook: (inaudible)

Detective Rowe: What?

Westbrook: The Meyers. James and Mia. That's where the concrete was at. I used to talk with them sometimes, before the accid—

Detective Rowe: You knew them?

Westbrook: Before the traffic accident. The one with the semi. Last summer.

Detective Rowe: Yes, I seem to recall that too. Something about them accelerating out of control—

Westbrook: I think they did it.

Detective Rowe: I'm sorry?

Westbrook: The bugs.

Detective Rowe: The … bugs.

Westbrook: (inaudible): In the concrete. Where the Meyers buried them. At least, until the road grader came along.
37 printed pages
Original publication



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