He leans forward, one hand braced on the dash. “Tell me that’s a cow.”
I follow his stare, and my stomach knots.
About thirty yards out, standing in the middle of the field like it owns the dark, is a bull. Black as pitch. Horns that look like they could forklift this truck for fun. Eyes that glint in the light and flash back at us, bright and wrong.
“What the hell is that?” Kai whispers, like volume might provoke it.
“That,” I say, deadpan, “is a beast with horns.”
Kai’s voice tightens. “That’s a demon wearing beef.”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious,” he says. “Look at the size of it. That thing pays taxes.”
I slow even more, because my brain is doing a fast audit of every bad decision I’ve made in the last ten minutes. “Why is it just standing there?”
Kai swallows. “Because it’s deciding if we’re worth the effort.”
“Don’t say that.”
Kai points. “It’s staring at us, Carter.”
“I know,” I blurt out.
Kai’s mouth twists into a nervous grin. “Maybe it’s June’s spirit animal.”
“Don’t bring June into this.”
“You’re right.” He nods solemnly. “This is what happens when you think too hard about a woman. The universe sends a monster bull to humble you.”
I stare at the animal. It stares back. Neither of us blinks. The truck idles like it’s holding its breath.
Kai whispers, “If it charges, I’m not getting out. I’m letting it take the truck. You can explain it to your insurance.”
“You think insurance covers demonic livestock?” I snort, then immediately regret it because the bull shifts its weight. Slow. Heavy. Like a threat that took its time.
“Okay,” I say, voice suddenly calm in a way that means I’m not calm at all. “We’re leaving.”
Kai nods fast. “Yep. Great plan. Love that plan.”
The bull takes a step toward us. Then another. Then it drops its head.
My stomach goes cold.
“It’s charging,” Kai says, and his voice goes weirdly calm, like his brain has accepted our deaths on principle. “Carter… it’s fucking charging.”
I slam the truck into reverse. Gravel spits. The tires scrabble like they’re trying to climb out of the earth.
The bull launches anyway.
It moves way too fast for something that must be Satan’s cattle. Hooves hammer the ground. The sound is a drumbeat that hits my spine.
“Go go go go,” Kai barks, suddenly all panic again. “Go, go, go!”
“I AM,” I snap, throwing the wheel to get us angled around, but the road is narrow and the truck is long, and the bull is closing in like it’s got a personal grudge.
Thirty yards.
