Meanwhile, in the Cab of A Random Pickup Truck
—Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest—
“You hear something, Bob?”
Two middle-aged men sit in the cab of their truck, heading east. Why they are heading east, no one knows. Perhaps not even them. Or perhaps that’s not true at all. Perhaps they are brothers, visiting their cousin for her wedding, driving late into the night to get there.
Perhaps they are innocently minding their own business, and a strangethunkjust rocked the bed of their truck.
Almost as if a certain magical someone had just launched himself into the bed of said truck and is now reclining peacefully in it, watching the stars go by overhead, wondering how much longer he can stay awake before the heaviness pulls him down.
How much longer can he last?
And he hopes this truck will take him closer, close enough to get a little of his strength back.
Because there in the distance is the quiet plea for help, the plea of his human so far away.
Just hold on, he begs her.Hold on, Anzelika.
And though he won’t admit it, not even to himself, he can’t stand the thought of losing her.
Meanwhile, the man in the passenger seat of the truck cab groans, rubbing one hand across his bleary eyes.
“Nah, Fred. I was sleeping. I didn’t hear nothin’. You’re imagining things again.”
“You’re probably right, Bob,” says the driver, blinking at the dark road stretching out like a ribbon in front of them, illuminated only by the dull, orange glow of the headlights.
Funny the way the mind plays tricks in the dark of the night.
Funny, indeed. It was almost as if a full-grown man had landed in the bed of the truck. Almost as if the man named Fred had seen the blur passing as Ziros landed in said bed.
Almost.
The man named Fred shakes his head, ridding himself of those silly thoughts.
Because he knows what he thought he saw must have been a trick of passing headlights.
That’s all.
But maybe the night road inspires the mind to think on uneasy things, to settle into the sinister kinds of things found after dark. Because he finds himself asking his brother, “Say, you hear about that crazy cult out east?”
“Yeah, I heard of them. Why you bringing them up in a spooky place like this? You think they’re up to something again?”
“Naw, they’ve been real quiet-like for a while now.”
“Don’t go saying that, Fred. You’ll jinx it. That’s just asking for trouble.”
“You don’t still believe in all that nonsense and magic, do you, Bob?”
“Believe what you want, Fred, but I’m not taking my chances.”
And somewhere in the back of the truck, a magical, mysterious hot guy lies still and silent, barely alive.
Hoping this truck will take him in the right direction.
Hoping he’ll still be alive when he wakes up.
And that he’ll be close enough, strong enough, to find his human.
