Fog had rolled in, causing Jared to have to turn the wipers to swipe the windshield. Cassie barked a laugh. “Well, this is rather b- movie-ish. Wonder when the radio will ominously start to play. It is 11:45. Almost midnight on a lonely highway in the middle of nowhere.”

Jared, already nervous, because he had the most popular girl (sarcastic and annoying as she was) in his old Ford Maverick, snapped, “Would you just give it a rest?” The quicker he could get her home the better.

He gripped the wheel tighter, telling himself it was to keep from throttling Cassie, but he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. His mother, a Cajun from the deep Louisiana Delta, had told him many times not to ignore those “feelings.” She had warned him that, “to ignore de feelin’, is to, make the misere.”

Jared caught a flicker of something just as Cassie let loose a blood curdling scream. All Jared knew was that he’d hit something and that the Ford was now inoperable sitting in the middle of the crossroads.