The Fixers

The FixersbyWolfram DonatThe sun was beating down hard when Edward hit theinterstate and shoved the gas pedal to the floor, trying toput some miles behind him before the heat of the day gottoo intense. The response when he pressed the pedal wasgratifying, and before long the Jaguar was slipping throughthe air going eighty. The mirages on the highway in frontof him scattered as he tried to catch up with them beforethey melted into the air.He didn’t have time to think about mirage puddles,though – his Blackberry was ringing. He pressed the hands-free. “Edward.”It was Jack. “Jack! Glad you called. Wanna tell mewhere I’m headed again? Somewhere out in BFE, isn’t it?”“Yeah, it’s way out there, Ed, but I’m telling you –the deal’s worth it. It’s gold. You can’t lose with thisone.” Jack was selling, just like he always did. Thistime, though, Edward was buying. Four hundred acres ofprime real estate for a song – at least, that’s what Jackcalled it. Edward was more inclined to call it something

else, but on paper the deal looked good. He couldn’t denythat. He did want to see the land, though, before he putdown any money, and now he found himself in the middle ofPennsylvania on State Route 6, searching for the exit toMansfield, Pennsylvania, with a population of 3,500 souls.After telling him that he would meet him on the roadin front of the property in an hour or so, Jack gave himdirections and hung up. The exit he needed was easy tofind. Edward took the off-ramp and, following Jack’sinstructions, soon found himself on a smaller highway thatwas more of a back road than anything else. Other trafficbecame more and more sparse, and the road looped andtwisted like a river. The pavement became broken anduncared for, making for a perilous drive. It wasn’t longbefore he had slowed significantly in order to negotiatethe twists and turns of the blacktop. Trees overhung theroad, but they did little to diminish the oppressive heat.Edward wiped his brow and realized he was parched. Hereached behind him to find his bottle of water, and in theprocess knocked the bottle onto the floorboard.“Crap,” he muttered, and hunched down, trying to reachit. The bottle wouldn’t stay still, slipping out of hisgrasp every time he touched it. Still cursing under hisbreath, he turned to look to see where it had rolled.

No sooner had he turned than there was a horrifyingcrash and something hit the windshield. Edward caught aglimpse of something long and white that flew over the roofof the Jag and hit the blacktop behind him. “Shit!” hescreamed, and stomped on the brakes, sending the car into askid. The car flipped around end-for-end and came to astop in the opposite lane, pointing in the direction he hadcome. Nothing moved. There were no other cars in sight.A hundred yards back, a small white heap lay in the middleof the road, unmoving.As he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car,shaking with adrenaline, something struck him as odd. Atfirst he couldn’t figure out what it was, and then itdawned on him. There were no sounds. The Jag’s engine haddied, and there were no birds singing or traffic noises.The eerie stillness continued as he slowly walked towardthe white shape, uncertain what he would find and not eagerto find out.When he reached the shape, his first thought was thathe had hit a mannequin. The figure was vaguely human-shaped, but the similarity didn’t extend much further thanthat. The skin, if that was what it was, was a pale,creamy white. There was no hair to be seen. The eyes,staring sightlessly up at the sky, were abnormally large