From the moment she started the truck, fear she’d look up and see flashing lights in her mirror whitened her knuckles on the wheel and sucked all the moisture out of her mouth. She barely drove forty-five miles per hour and kept her gaze on the ground to the left, worried to death she’d miss the little dirt road back to Dad’s house. A horn blared, startling a shriek out of her. She kept screaming as she shied away from the headlights in her rearview mirror. Some guy in an unmarked white van crept right up on her back bumper, flicking his high beams so fast she thought him a cop for a few seconds. She froze, unsure what to do, letting her foot off the gas and clutching the wheel to stay in the lane. The van weaved side to side, beeping and flashing. He’s gonna hit me. She looked at the dashboard. The needle hovered at thirty-five now, sinking toward thirty. Indistinct warbles of a man’s shouting came from behind.
What do You think about The Summer The World Ended?
