Tyler had the windows rolled down as they drove down the back roads outside Smartt. He howled along to a song blasting on the stereo, getting about every third word wrong, and banged his hands on the steering wheel like it was a drum pad. Hanson was used to tuning his friend out and watched the tall grass on the roadside pass by in a blur. Just behind his reflection in the side mirror, he caught sight of Billy’s oversized truck driving up too quickly with its high beams on. The truck slowed down just feet behind and flashed its headlights as it swerved from side to side. Billy’s truck kicked up a dust cloud as it veered off the road, balanced on the edge of the ditch, then corrected and edged back up on the main road.
“Why do we hang out with that guy?”
“Because he can buy us beer, which is more than I can say for you,” Tyler said. “Speaking of—ask Owen to get me one.”
Hanson opened the sliding rear window and peeked his head out the back. A pocket of wind turbulence whipped his hair across his face. In the far corner of the truck bed sat Owen, freckle-faced and pockmarked and the smallest of the group. His baseball cap was pulled down low around his ears to keep it from flying off, and he squinted his eyes against the wind.
“Hey, Owen. Hand me a couple, will ya?” Hanson shouted above the turbulence.
Owen nodded, pulled out two beers from the case, and was ready to hand them over when he froze. Out in the field of summer wheat, a black figure was running fast and keeping pace with the truck. There was something in its movements, unnatural and disjointed, that made him shudder. His mouth dropped open. He struggled to find words that could make sense of what he saw, but he gave up trying and just pointed out toward the field while still clutching a can of beer.
Hanson looked up, puzzled, then out in the direction of Owen’s frozen gaze. There on the far edge of the field was the creature. The target of endless nights of driving and hunting, false leads and close calls. It was real after all and moving unlike any animal he had ever seen. The creature bobbed up and down as it ran, its long arms and legs in full gallop. Its skin, black as night, was a sharp contrast against the honey-colored wheat.
Hanson turned quickly back into the cab, slamming his head against the roof.
“There. It’s there! It’s there!” Hanson shouted as he pointed frantically at the field.
Tyler looked out the side window. His heart skipped and the world slowed down. The bar was low, but he was the most cunning of his group. A natural hunter. His brain instantly tracked the creature’s direction and speed. A map of the roads flashed in his head and different options played out as he plotted the best place to cut the creature off.
He calmly reached over and turned off the stereo.
“Get Billy on the phone and tell his fat ass to keep up,” Tyler said coolly. “And grab the rifle.”
He slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The tachometer redlined as Owen lost his balance and rolled around the back of the truck like an empty beer can.
Less than a mile ahead, a rusty green truck was making its way down a straight stretch of road and going ten miles under the speed limit. Jack was taking his time. He was just returning from the Ivanhoe Diner with Mara and wanted nothing more than to extend the evening as long as he could. He glanced over. The windows were rolled down. Mara’s hair billowed out in waves like a living thing, but she didn’t seem to mind. The wind felt good to both of them and brought with it a faint hint of alfalfa and summer grass. The stereo played loud enough in the background for the two to catch the melody, but not so loud it prevented them from talking.
“What is this?” Mara asked.
“You mean the song? It’s Hank Williams. ‘On the Banks of the Old Pontchartrain,’” Jack said. “You like it?”
“I do. It sounds like a dream, but—” Mara’s voice cut short, then she recited a line from the song. “‘I left her alone without saying goodbye.’ That’s quite sad.”
“Yeah. I don’t think ol’ Hank was a very happy guy, but I sure like his music,” Jack said. “We can listen to something else if you want. I’ve got a bunch of different playlists. Soul from the seventies. Great stuff, like Bill Withers, Al Green. There’s a David Bowie playlist. You pick.”
“David Bowie. I’ve heard of him.” Mara smiled.
“Well, all right. Good choice.” Jack was ready to switch the playlist when he noticed two headlights rapidly approaching in the rearview mirror. “Huh?”
“What is it?” Mara asked.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” Jack answered, his expression puzzled.
Mara turned around and looked out the back of the truck. The approaching headlights lit up her face and dilated her pupils. A pickup truck was coming up fast and flying dead center down the middle of the road. She calculated the speed of the vehicle and the speed of Jack’s truck and had just enough time to shout.
“Move!”
Jack was already in motion when he heard Mara yell out. He slammed on the gas pedal and edged toward the side of the road, his tires spraying a bloom of gravel. He looked out the side window and had just enough time to catch the driver’s face as the truck flew by, missing him by inches.
Jack tried to steer the truck back toward the road, but the tires had hit the soft dirt on the side of the ditch. The truck tilted precariously. He looked over at Mara and for a moment thought she was floating, serene and calm, her hair unmoving. The second truck blew past just as Jack started to gain control. He could feel the backend fishtail and turned into the swerve; the back tires caught traction and his truck bounced back up onto the main road. Old bolts rattled, the glove box popped open, and Jack almost hit the top of his head on the roof, but he didn’t overcorrect and was able to get the truck under control. He slowed his truck and gradually rolled to a stop by the side of the road, his hands white-knuckled on the wheel. The engine ticked in the silence.
“You okay?” Jack asked as he looked over.
“Yes. What was that?”
“Just some stupid kids,” Jack answered. “Some very stupid kids who are going to be hearing from me.”
Mara was ready to respond when her iCom flashed blue.
<I’ve detected the creature. It’s approximately five kilometers from the farm and moving fast in Anna’s direction. I’ve provided you both coordinates and will continue tracking.>
“I’m on my way!” Anna’s voice came over the iCom.
“No,” Mara said out loud, startling herself and Jack.
“I’m sorry. What?” Jack asked.
<I see you’re with Jack. I’ll call you now for a diversion, Mara.>
The iCom phone buzzed in her back pocket.
“My phone,” Mara responded, glad for the reprieve. She read a text from SID—instructions for what to say next.
“Everything okay?” Jack asked.
“I’m sorry, but I need to get back to your place as fast as I can.” Mara looked up. “It’s family.”