e world outside had faded to black, and our headlights cut a lonely, narrow tunnel through the oppressive darkness of the desert night. My mind felt

the way it moved... no human could do that. The memory of its loping, u

rough and foreign. It was the first thi

dim glow of the dashboard lights, I could see he

anning the dark horizon. "Some

n. It looked like an oasis of light in an ocean of black. Relief washed over m

ttached. A single eighteen-wheeler was parked off to the side, its engine humming quietly. As I filled the tank, the mund

ard and a faded trucker hat sat at a small table, nursing a cup of coffee. He nodded at us as we walked in. We

ostcards, her eyes wide and vaca

ne, the one who always had an answer, but I was completely lost. "It must h

ed, her voice trembling. "You saw

t the table looked up from his coffe

ut on Route 68?" he aske

int of caring, just nodded. "Yeah," she said faintly. "Somethin

his coffee before speaking again. "And you went towa

't a qu

heart starting to pound a

c creaking under his weight. "You're lucky to be alive. Not many

ir, foreign and menaci

h a legend. Thing's been out here as long as anyone ca

terrifying than any panicked scream. It made the creature real, a known qu

e's plate-glass window. "Waves at you, tries to look helpless. It's smart. It knows how to lure

onditioning ever could. Everything he said matched our experience perfectl

" Emily asked, her v

e on this land. Others say it's something else entirely, something not from around here. All I know is,

real, real lucky. Whatever you do, don't stop aga

e they were coming from a million miles away. The trucker's words echoed in my head, confirming our worst fears

ifying, but at least we weren't just fleeing from a nameless, formless terror. We were fleeing from something known, something we now knew to avoid. Shaken, but feeling l